Difference between revisions of "Logs:Affirmation"

Lunch hour offers plenty of opportunities for company and socializing, which is perhaps why at it's peak Faryn is here, even though she has no pressing work in front of her. No food, either. She's just propped her head in her hand and is doodling on what is ostensibly to be a letter of some sort, if the salutation at the top - sans name - is any indication. Hopefully, dear whomever really likes crudely outlined stick figures, engaged in a variety of tasks. Not all of them are wholly appropriate.

Though her days as Jeroman's assistant are long behind her, Edyis still slips into the records room from time to time. When the dark eyes rest on Faryn however, the mischievous inner workings of the former scribe cannot be quelled. Silent on her feet, she works to sneak up behind the former herder with a grin. Her intent to give her a greeting creepily right next to Faryn's face. "So. This is where you've been hiding from everyone."

There are jumpier people than Faryn, but she flinches nevertheless, less from the voice and more from the proximity. If Edyis takes an elbow to to her stomach or other soft middling bit, it serves her right. And will, regardless of contact, be followed by, "Shit. Shit, sorry," because she is. But Faryn's mouth is pulled into a half-smile, half-grimace, both sides with lots of teeth. She is, otherwise, indulgent. "Yes, this is it. I am the worst artist on Pern. It's the shame I carry."

Perhaps fortunately, Edyis seems quite used to taking stray blows. Still, there's a sharp puff of breath out at the impact where elbow meets muscle. "I'm good." She exhales firmly. Stepping away from the dangerous jumpy person. Rubbing her middle as she moves to take a seat at the same table. "I wouldn't say that, I'm pretty sure they don't teach that one in health class." Pointing at one of the lewdest stick figures. "Could be worse, I suppose. You haven't been around lately."

"Sorry," comes again anyways, despite any reassurances. Battery is just one of those things you don't mess around with. If Faryn's remotely ashamed about her stick figures, it's only reflected in the drop of her pen to cover most of the characters, and their weird issues, as she follows Edyis' movements to a seat. "Two queens. Two clutches. It all means I get to go outside a lot." Clearly, she's pleased by this.

"Farideh was forgiving then, I take it." She notes, "Hopefully they both don't continue to rise so close." She grins a touch, "Means you'll have twice the opportunities to stand I suppose." The former scribe notes, propping her chin in hand studying Faryn from across the table.

"Let's hope I only need one," Faryn says, allowing the order of the conversation to reverse. Her eyes fall on her hide. When she picks up her pen, it's to scribble out the people she's drawn with measured curls that wrap around them before they're blacked out - more or less. "Farideh's done a lot of growing up. Drex told her."

"Those two, are weird." She seems to decide of Farideh and Drex with a puff of breath to send a stray curl fluttering away from her face. "She has, hasn't she, everybody has. Maybe." Her gaze shifting them to the rows of books on those cherry wood shelves. "And T'mic?" Dark eyes shifting back with the question, concern tinting her expression.

"So fucking weird," Faryn puffs as an agreeable laugh, but she's quick to amend, "Good for each other, though. They'll grow into it." Her curlicues start moving up the edge of her page with clear intent: she'll blacken the whole page, given time. "Busy, I suppose. I think he thought he had more time to be ready for becoming a weyrlingmaster. Niahvth will touch the sands soon enough."

"You really think so?" Edyis wonders of the odd couple. She watches those whorls on the page. The look Faryn gets when she mentions the bluerider is an expected one, and yet she doesn't press. "Mm," It sounds almost distracted. "So where have you been sleeping?" An echo of an earlier unanswered question perhaps.

Measures out her pause very carefully, regarding Edyis without her hand stopping. It's such a mindless task, her curls don't even drift. "Yeah, I do. She's...mellower, happier, when he's here. And he's..." her head tips thoughtfully through a pause, "a good guy, I'd say. A little crude, but, well." She holds her hands palms up. "Look at the rest of us." Her room situation lacks mystery, as it were. "The dorms, mostly. Naps in Farideh's weyr."

"Always thought he looked like trouble waiting to happen, but I am not really a good judge of character these days." Edyis retorts blithely. "Was my sleep talking really so awful?" The joke settling in the air between them, before she's exhaling again, and more sternly, "I've been kind of worried. Ever since I had to ferry a drunken T'mic to Benden." There's a pause, "Whatever goes on or doesn't go on between you two. You know that you are my friend right?"

"You should see him --" Faryn has, at least, the good sense to stop before she gets too far into that particular thought, and her scribbling becomes visibly firmer, indenting the hide. "He told Farideh. I didn't. I couldn't, when it came down to it." The ex-herder shrugs; if that doesn't say enough about him, she can't do much more. If Faryn's eyes sharpen at mention of Benden, it could easily be for a gap between her fastidious rows that she must navigate back to fill, all without lifting the pen. "It was mostly your naked boyfriend," she jibes back, quiet. "Thank you, for not telling anyone," Faryn has in lieu of legitimate answer. "I just realized I can't hide from him with you, and I can't hide behind you or anyone else when I fuck up. I moved back where I belong, because it's the lot I chose. If I don't like it, I can make the choice to change that too, and kick rocks."

Edyis arches a brow at the point where Faryn edits herself. "Just means he's either really sharding stupid or maybe brave." Edyis points out cheerily. "Wasn't mine to tell." She replies, before the rest has her exhaling sharply. The rest simply has her staring at Faryn, brows furrowed.

"Love makes you brave." There's absolute certainty in the statement, and a working of Faryn's throat as she swallows visibly. "If he's trouble, I'd rather him than...say, H'vier." Otherwise, "It doesn't matter, though. You could have. Plenty of people would. I know you're my friend, and I appreciate it."

The first, gives Edyis pause, Fingers flexing to tap against the table. "Maybe, for some it does." She bites her lip, shaking her head then. "Don't tell other people's secrets," She answers again, "Providing of course I know it's a secret." Important stipulation, that. "Don't punish yourself forever ok? And if you need a spot to catch your breath, you are always welcome. Fuck everyone else invades whenever the whim strikes them." She grins wryly.

"For some, yes." Soft, that, and like a cue. Faryn's filled half the page in a waste of ink and hide, and she lifts the pen to find her progress has left black smudges on the blade of her hand and wrist. She doesn't even sigh, just starts rubbing it against the side of her breeches. "I'm not punishing myself at all. Really. I'm just keeping busy, biding my time until I can ask to Stand again."

The page is studied, with one of those infamously judgmental frowns. "Promise me you'll scrape that properly for the love of all the harpers." She's getting to her feet then. "You sure about that?" Edyis wonders of self-punishment. "Sorta sounds like it from here, but hey, what do I know right?" The scribe smiles a little.

Faryn blinks innocently up at Edyis, very deliberately putting that particular hide at the bottom of the small stack. "First Keysi, now you. You haven't changed that much," she says, tart but not mean. And for the rest? Faryn stops scrubbing to flick that hand at her. "I don't need to punish myself. When it rains, it's a shitstorm."

"Who said I had changed at all?" Those dark eyes of Edyis's glittering with amusement. "Wait, now I'm getting lumped in with Keys? What did she say to you, and what have I done?" And there's a look for the shitstorm comment. "The offer still stands."

"You have. Just not all the way around. Some things, like your weird love for this place and its hides, don't change." Faryn pulls her hand back again, frowning at the dark blotch of ink that hasn't faded much despite being rubbed into the soft leather of her pants in a stain she'll never get out. "Just like, Keysi has this way of being stern even when she's trying to be cool." But she's waving again. "I know it does. Maybe I'll come up for a drink soon." But she's taking up her pen again, and has carefully scripted the word Dear again in her flowing, sharp longhand.

"Give her a few more turns with Savannah, if anyone can mellow her out, it's that bunch." Edyis laughs, and there's a look to the shelves. "You are right about the records, though I suppose. I'll give you that. I'll catch you later Faryn. Clear Skies." And she's gone.