Difference between revisions of "Logs:Relationships Aren't Easy"

Five days after the welcome back fiasco in the bowl, and two after the tragedy of Fort's hatching, there is an invitation issued to Drex on behalf of Farideh to meet her in the post-dinner hours at the junior queen ledges; it's highly possible that she chose this time for the anonymity darkness provides. By the prearranged time, she's standing, huddled, under the overhang of one of the weyrs, bundled in her winter outerwear, watching snowflakes fall from the leaden sky above, as she waits for her guest to arrive.

Drex has spent the last few days settling in, revisiting (and reclaiming?) old haunts about the Weyr. He's even managed to see a bath at least once, though that might've been a couple of days ago now. He's wearing his black coat, covered in snow by the time he finds the ledges, completely unfamiliar with this area, it would seem. He nearly slips once on the ledge, cursing dragons and their mothers with abandon -- so much for subtlety -- before he finally makes his way up the ledge to where he catches sight of Farideh. There's uncertainty visible in his demeanor as he slows, staring at her.

The goldrider has been rubbing her hands together to keep warm, as the gloves she's wearing don't seem to afford much protection from the onslaught of winter. There's no mistaking the trill of laughter for the sailor's ascent up the stairs to the ledge, but by the time he's close, her expression has smoothed into neutrality. "I should have picked someplace else. It's not the-- most romantic location, but it's private and-- I thought maybe you'd want to look around, with me?" Farideh looks vaguely tentative this time around, shrugging her shoulders with ill-feigned nonchalance.

There's a frown, first, from Drex, before he steps closer, reaching for Farideh's hands to fold his over them, rubbing them briefly with a quirked smile. The sailor's a little bemused by all this, it's clear, where this is look around, although Drex's never been not game to investigate places, whether he's wanted there or not. "This is where you're gonna live?" he asks, with a glance over his shoulder. He doesn't seem too impressed, though he hasn't seen the inside yet, admittedly.

Farideh flashes Drex a radiant smile, using the convenient excuse of keeping warm -- hand rubbing, wind shielding, all of that ilk -- to step closer. "One of these," she says, nodding her head towards the different sets of stairs and the openings to darkened weyrs; all except Irianke's weyr, which look well-used in the ephemeral sense. "I'm not supposed to look ahead of time, but I might as well? And you can help me pick the best one."

"You mean, you're actually breaking the fucking rules? Oh, Fari," Drex looks inordinately pleased with her. Sliding an arm around her shoulders, he seeks to guide them into the nearest weyr, nevermind it's probably dark and cold. He aint scared.

"What can it hurt? We're only a month away from getting them anyway, and the Weyrleader was the one who suggested it. Even if he told me not to do it afterwards," Farideh explains, her own arm curving around his waist in turn. She's obviously eager to look, though once they have crossed the threshold of the first darkened weyr her excitement is replaced by disappointment; most of the furniture is covered by sheets and extremely unremarkable besides. "This is-- it," she sighs.

The fact that Farideh explains why she's breaking the rules kind of ruins the whole novelty of it, to judge by Drex's expression. The sailor regards the space, dropping his arm from around Farideh to move towards a glow, unshuttering it, staring thoughtfully at the space. He gives Farideh a surprised look at her disappointment, however. "What were you expecting? Gold draperies?" He pauses, squinting his gaze a moment. "You weren't expecting that, right?"

Not until Drex unshutters the glowbasket does Farideh move from her spot in the middle of the floor, and that to stare glumly around at her surroundings. "Gold draperies? No," isn't very convincing, and is somewhat sullen. "I don't need curtains when there aren't even any windows, but there could have at least been--" She frowns and pokes at the leg of the couch with the toe of her boot. "A rug? Updated upholstery? Tapestries?" Her disgruntled look is slanted to him, next. "Do you like it?"

Drex, for his part, isn't interested in rugs or upholstery (if he even knows what that means, the confused look suggests not), or tapestries; he goes straight for the bedroom, bouncing onto the sheet-covered bed, stretching arms under his head. "Aint so bad," he allows, with a sudden grin, pushing up to give Farideh a look. You know. "Ought to test it out properly to be sure."

"Should we?" Farideh trails behind the sailor, glancing left and right at the myriad furniture pieces, until she gets to the bedroom, where she pauses, sweeping the room with a wall-to-wall stare. "I already told you I can't," she says, her arms crossing over her chest. "Not all of the way, yet. Not until we get our weyrs, but if you want to walk around frustrated and bothered--" Her slants him an innocent look, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "Besides, shouldn't we talk, first?" And on that note, she moves to the bed, to get comfortable on the edge.

"And here, a second ago, you were more than willing to break the rules," Drex says, with an obvious hint of frustration, as he sits up. He grabs something from under his coat -- a package of some sort, and tosses it onto the bed, before he sprawls onto his back again. "Fine, let's... talk." Apparently he means for her to go first.

"Looking at weyrs is not the same thing as having sex. It's possible -- they say -- that it can upset Roszadyth. You've not been here this whole time so I don't know," Farideh says, a touch irritably. "It's going to happen-- soon." Still, she manages two spots of rosy color in her cheeks, before she reaches to grab the package he tosses out. "What's this?" she asks, quizzically, turning it over and around. "You've been gone for half a turn. You don't think it's important to get a few things-- out in the open?"

"No touching," Drex warns her, though it's hard to tell whether he means in general or the package specifically; probably the latter. He's frowning at her explaination about why they can't have sex, clearly disbelieving. "Riders have sex all the time," he scoffs for a moment, eyeing her glumly. "You wanted to talk, let's talk." It's clear he doesn't really know what she wants to talk about.

The rebuke gets a pout, but she obediently sets the parcel back down on the bed. "Not this young," Farideh replies. "They're-- worried, since they aren't fully matured, that it may have a negative impact. I heard once that some weyrlings had sex when their dragons were even younger, and now-- now, their dragons aren't quite the same." It's all cryptic business, as she turns, to sit cross-legged on the corner of the bed, where she can look at Drex. "Fine, fine. I don't want you to think-- what Itsy said-- I never didn't want you to not come back. I didn't want you to leave, at all. I wanted you to stay. I still do, but it's-- I know it's selfish, when I chose to Impress. You love that stupid ship and sailing on it, but--" But, "You've been gone a long time."

"Sounds like a load of cock to me, made up by old men afraid their virgins will be stolen away from them." Still, despite the look in Drex's gaze, he, too, keeps his hands to himself, albeit with some fidgeting. "But," he echoes, voice suddenly harder. "But, what?" He tugs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Been gone not even five months. You done me with already?" A beat. "Aint fucked anyone else. Wanted to, once Couldn't." Hard to say whether that will help or hurts his cause, but he's blandly honest about it anyway.

Despite the serious nature of their conversation, Farideh laughs. "Quinlys is not an old man and I'm not a virgin," a fact which they both know, her stare pointed. Then, it's back to srs business, with a more intent expression. "I never said that. Stop jumping to conclusions already (because that's her job). I merely meant that--" His admission makes her stop, to consider him across the length of the bed. "You didn't have to tell me that," she says, waspishly, her cheeks flushing again, but this time with frustration; it's clearly going in a great direction already. "I meant that you said you loved me and then you-- you left. Things have changed. We should-- it makes sense to-- try and decide where to go from here. Is it still just having fun, now? Are you going to leave again without another goodbye?"

Let's face it, Drex isn't exactly an expert when it comes to things; closer to a dunce, perhaps. "Meant it," is what he does say, unhindered by her waspish response to his honesty. He lifts and drops his shoulder in an unfinished shrug. "Couldn't say goodbye, and anyway, I think we managed a nice enough one," the grin that spreads on his face is fairly suggestive, sneaking a hand out to touch her knee. "You'll be able to come visit us next winter, in Ista. Got it all worked out. We can lie on a beach together." That's his version of future-planning. A beach.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment? 'Hey Farideh, I saw a girl with huge knockers, and I wanted to screw her sideways, but I didn't. Aren't you proud?'" Farideh's expression makes it clear this is purely rhetorical, and she's not legitimately asking for his opinion. Her arms cross over her chest again, and she actually pulls her knee away when he touches it. "That's not what I meant. It's only going to get harder from here, when you leave. Will you be gone for another six months? A turn? Forever? How do I even know?"

Drex actually opens his mouth, but he's not that stupid, thankfully, shutting it as he takes in Farideh's expression, though there's no apology in his. He makes a noise when she pulls away from him, frustration clear in his expression. "Aint gonna promise you what I don't know. I'll try to let you know where I am when I can -- Itsy'll write. But," he gives another of those minute shrugs. "Fari, we belong on the sea." We being Itsy and him. "You know that. Aint gonna apologize for it. Don't mean it can't work though. Some of the others... they have wives."

"Itsy," Farideh says, her ire rising, "can't remember when to write." Her mouth tightens, thins, and she glances away. "Isn't it a little too late to be your wife, now? We have weyrmates here and we can't exactly be when you're not even here. I'll be like K'del, always pining for you and having to adjust our schedules to suit." She only barely looks back at Drex. "How, exactly, do you think we'll manage? And how can you just--" Deep breath.

The blank look from Drex suggests that he knows nothing of what Itsy shared in her letter, nor why Farideh's upset about it. That the look continues suggests he knows nothing of the Weyrleader's situation, nor does he seem to care. "Aint saying it'd be easy. You've got a dragon, I've got a ship. We've both got baggage," it makes him grin, abruptly. "But I'll always find my way back to port. Especially if you're there."

"You think it's that simple?" Farideh is staring at Drex, with an unfathomable expression, but she's definitely holding herself aloof all the same.

"Just said it won't be, didn't I? Don't mean we shouldn't try." Drex is looking at her, but since he can't read much in her expression, he reaches past her for the parcel and pushes it into her hands, now. "Open it," he suggests. The package itself is soft, hinting perhaps at the contents.

Something crosses her face, something still unreadable, and swiftly replaced by confusion when he tells her, now, to open the package. It's reverently when she picks up the bundle, running her fingers over the top. Farideh lifts her eyes to Drex, tentatively, and then starts unraveling the package to get to the gift within.

The first layer fairly gleams in the available light, shining in a burnished gold color. The material's quite soft, and there's enough of it for an outfit. "Figured you could make a dress, or something. Didn't get much of a good look at your dragon, I tried to sit right down the front so you'd see me, but they made me sit all the way at the back." Drex still sounds disgruntled about that fact. The second layer is a pale blue scarf, suitable for the cold weather. Within its folds, another item falls out, a bracelet made of tightly woven reeds, with tiny green-and-blue beads strung through it here and there. "That," he sounds the proudest of that, "Is a bracelet they say honors the sea. Picked it out myself. Thought it'd kind of make you think of me, when I'm out there."

Farideh is still wearing that apprehensive look when she unwraps the layers of fabric. "Drex," she murmurs, her fingers smoothing over the gold material, her features set in astonishment. "This is--" There's another gift to unwrap, and a third, all of which she takes her time to assess and appreciate. She stacks them in reverse order, gold fabric first followed by blue scarf and the bracelet, on the bed and then scoots over to Drex, to where, if not stopped, she'll throw her arms around him and embrace him tightly; wordlessly, for now.

And if she is astonished at the present, Drex is likewise taken aback at the reaction, though not unfavorably, judging by the way his arms wrap around Farideh. He seems ok with the silence, happy just to be near her for now.

It stretches, that comfortable silence. "Okay," is all Farideh says when she breaks it, her cheek pressed into Drex's shoulder; she doesn't seem determined on separating from him just yet, instead she appears to be content as is.

"Okay?" Drex echoes her, with a questioning lilt. He tries to pull back just enough to see her expression, if she'll let him. If not, well, he won't protest too hard.

"We can--" Farideh's breath catches and by the time she looks up, at his face, her own face is scrunching up in comical exasperation. "Try." Drex stares at her for a moment, and then grins, abruptly. He's kissing her, then, on the forehead, on the cheek, on the neck, tiny little kisses that are timed with twitches of his fingers into her sides. "Promise?" he half-growls.

Between the kisses and his fingers, Farideh is wiggling back and forth, biting on her lip to keep from laughing too loud. "Promise," she affirms. "It's not going to be easy, and-- we'll have to work on it. You're on a boat on the water and I'm stuck in a mountain." She leans forward and kisses him sweetly on the lips, then leans back again. "But we can try."

"We can try," Drex agrees, sealing it with a returned, gentle kiss to her lips, and a brush of his thumbs across her cheeks. With a sigh, "How long until you can do stuff again?" Sliding towards the edge of the bed, he makes to stand up. "I suppose we can go look at the other weyrs, since we can't... you know. Try them yet."

"Forever," Farideh answers cheekily, bouncing her way off the bed too, but she moves to the side, where she's left her presents, to scoop them up. "By the end of the month, we should be in weyrs, if they have them ready and have room." She unconsciously runs her fingers over the tiny beads on the bracelet, though her eyes are focused on Drex. "Not too much longer. You've waited five months. What's one more?" She sticks her tongue out then and makes a run for the door, then to the outer weyr-- catch her if you can!

"Careful," Drex mock-growls, "Keep talking like that and I'm sure as shit going to steal you away into my ship just to have my way with you." The way he's looking at her suggests he's considering doing that right now, in fact, but instead he exhales a sharp breath, and reaches for that bracelet atop her pile of presents, reaching out to tie it in place around her wrist. Fingers running along the length of it for a moment, his, "That is forever," to her mention of another whole month, and then he's swiftly racing after her, right on her heels, stomping loudly and making noises as if to urge her faster.

Since there isn't much to dodge by way of furniture, and most of that out of the way, Farideh has an easy way of it, sprinting from Drex's purposefully noisy pursuit. She even manages to glance back a couple times without tripping! But her wayward run comes to a halt outside, on the ledge, where snow has already piled up on short drifts. "I'm glad you're back," Farideh says, when she turns to survey the sailor's progress; and just like that, she's spiriting off to the next vacant weyr.

Drex opens his mouth to respond -- or is about to -- when she disappears off again. He makes a frustrated noise, but this time it's more playful than anything, pursuing her through the snow, though it muffles the sound of his stomping boots, snow that he'll track into the next weyr in her wake.