Difference between revisions of "Logs:Short Notice"

>---< Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr(#1549RJ) >------------------------------<

  With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this 
  tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with           
  comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a     
  hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in   
  the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of       
  insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.    

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  Farideh      F   19  5'5  Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes                0s 
  Rafevan      M   23  6'1  average, Blond hair, Blue eyes                4s
 ----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
                                 Inner Caverns

It's late. Half the Weyr's getting ready for bed, and even the rest are winding down. Even Rafe, who sits alone at the nighthearth, a slowly congealing bowl of stew at his side while he writes tiny script onto the margins of a hide.

"Ow, ow, ow--" is the chant that precedes the laundress into the bubble cavern. Trying to juggle a bowl filled with hot, steaming, soup and a quilt, is turning out to be quite the task for Farideh. Her fingers keep slipping on the earthenware, until she has no choice but to set it down on the nearest table or risk it falling to the floor. She frowns and presses her reddened fingertips together, giving the offending bowl a glare for good measure. "Shoot," she mutters, irritated eyes flicking up to survey the cavern; they find Rafevan and his hide. "Oh, hey."

A couple more small notations, and Rafevan looks up, already having recognized he voice. "Good evening, Farideh," he greets her in return, setting aside his writing for a moment in favor of stirring his soup. It doesn't quite look to his taste now, though, and he just frowns at it before putting it down too. "How are you? Well, I hope--after the other evening."

The slim girl looks curiously towards his hide, with those minute notations, but says nothing about it as she picks up her bowl again and seats herself at a chair near his. "That," with a roll of her eyes, "was ridiculous. I told Drex he should apologize to Itsy. He did insult her a few times." Farideh cants her head at Rafevan, then. "We didn't even get to finish playing, after everything. Sorry."

"They'll sort themselves out," Rafe says, unworried on that front. "And, to be fair, I think it worked about as well as I expected it to, knowing the difficulties the two of them were experiencing." His mouth pulls into an amused smirk there, just for a moment, as he sits forward to regard her. "And there's no need to apologize to me. I already know how to play; the evening shouldn't have really been for me."

"Difficulties? That they're experiencing?" Farideh looks up from blowing the steam off the scoop of soup on her spoon, eyebrows lifted in question. "I'm not at all sure I know what you mean."

In return, Rafevan gives Farideh a curious look. "Were... you not at the same evening of entertainment that I was?" he teases.

"I don't think I would call that experiencing difficulties. I prefer to refer to it as being pointlessly moody," Farideh returns brightly, waving her spoon in the air. "It's not like they're not fully aware that they're acting ridiculous. They should just apologize and make up, and be friends again. That's not so hard, right?"

"I feel like that would require a level of emotional maturity to which our mutual friends can only aspire," is Rafe's drawled response. He's just amused at the idea, though, regarding her. "They'll work out their differences, or not, I expect. Either way, I doubt it changes much for us, no?"

"That would be the ideal." A perfect world doesn't exist, however. "It might be like this for as long as they're mad with each other. We could be enjoying drinks and they fight, and the night is ruined. We could be at a gather, enjoying ourselves, and they fight, and we all have to go home." Farideh lifts her eyes silently to the ceiling. "I didn't realize you and Drex were friends, though." And now she does.

"I didn't realize you and Itsy were friends," comes the counter to that statement; Rafevan ignores the former in favor of the latter. He adds a beat later, with a careful arch of one brow, "Or that you and Drex were more than such."

"I'm helping Itsy branch out of boyish." Air quotes accompany the words, and a saucy smile tops it off. "More than what?" Farideh asks, completely innocently, busily maneuvering a carrot around in her soup with the tip of her spoon.

"But maybe that was just a drunken boy blowing hot air," concedes Rafe, with an inclination of his head: an out provided, maybe.

"It depends what he said," Farideh says, leaning forward eagerly with her forearms on her thighs. Do tell.

Only now Rafevan is looking uncomfortable, reaching up to tug at his collar sheepishly. "I'm sorry," he says then. "I suspect I've said more than I should already; it's really none of my business, and it was said in confidence anyway."

A disappointed sigh escapes Farideh's lips and she's pulling back, leaning into the cushions that pad the back of her seat. "How predictable, Rafe. I should commend you on being loyal at least." She watches him thoughtfully while she twirls her spoon between her fingers. "So, we are. Sleeping together. Is that that surprising?"

Rafevan, seriously, tells her, "Surprising--it depends on what sense. I didn't realize you were acquaintances, for one, so it's surprising to find that two random people I've met in my year here should know each other so intimitately." His shoulders lift. Then, "But if you mean surprising in the sense of what could you possibly see in each other, then I'm hardly qualified to judge that. The ways of the heart of mysterious, aren't they?" he notes, with a sideways smirk for her.

"I don't know about that. We all live here, in this snow debacle, and there's only so many places to go, so many people to see, unless you regularly meet the transport dragons." His smirk is met with one uplifted brow, a similarly amused smile curving her mouth winsomely. "They are," Farideh agrees, "quite a mystery. To some more than others." She points her spoon at him then and squints one eye, revolving the utensil in a circle that's probably, from her viewpoint, circumventing his face. "Tell me. Does your heart beat faster for someone? Her? Him? Them?"

'Snow debacle,' Rafevan mouths along, but leaves it at that. Instead, he smiles his coy smile. "Now that would be telling," he notes dryly. "And I'm afraid I'm not nearly so drunk as our friend Drex was the other night."

"What? You don't trust me with your secrets?" Farideh's eyes and smile are mocking, just before she leans forward to drop her spoon in her now-lukewarm soup. "We can always buy you a drink." We and not her, whatever that means.

"You and..." Rafe prompts, glancing around the otherwise empty nighthearth with that lifted brow.

"It depends what drunk I can find at the bar to buy you one," is sweetly spoken. "I can't say without looking, unless you want to try to scavenge off the tables again." Farideh tilts her head towards Rafevan, with a pointed stare.

"Oh, no," is Rafevan's answer there. A beat; and he casts a quick, teasing smile her way. "Not if we're going to make a real date of it."

"There should be at least one easy mark, given all of this snow and how everyone feels about the Igen goldrider. They like to drink their feelings down to the last drop." Farideh props her chin onto one balled up fist, and jerks her head towards his hide. "You don't have to study? I assume that's what apprentices do."

Rafevan's eyes go down to his papers himself, frowning at them. "Tonight?" he wonders. "Such short notice. I happen to have a practical exam in the morning, so I'm not sure that's such a good idea for me...?" But it trails off like he's waiting for her to talk him into it instead.

"Tonight," Farideh confirms. "Do you think that you'll learn anything new now? This late? You've given it your best, that's all you can do for now, and you should treat yourself. I'm positive you'll come out with flying colors." She watches and waits, her smile stretching wider.

"Less a matter of studying," answers Rafe with a lift of his shoulders. "And more a matter of, how hungover does one not need to be to play with molten iron?"

One hand flaps at him in a dismissive manner. "Molten iron? That's nothing. You'll be perfectly fine by then." Farideh pushes up out of her chair and grabs her blanket, giving her soup a displeased wrinkle of her nose. "Come on, come on, up, up, up. We have to get you good and drunk before the sun comes up, so you can have time to sober up," she says, rolling her eyes.

Up, up, up goes Rafe, just smirking at that as he lets Farideh manhandle him. "Drunk it is, then," he agrees, letting her drag him along. He's nothing if not pliable in this.