Difference between revisions of "Logs:Opening Doors"

Snowasis is alive with weyrfolk tonight. Riders are playing cards and darts, a group of kitchen staff are getting rowdy in the booths at the back, and Farideh is happily ensconced on the couch, with its winter-themed pillows; pillows that cushion her back, keeping her propped up instead of sinking into the seat. She has a book open in her lap, but seems much more content to watch the going-ons in Snowasis. Drink of choice: hot chocolate in a blue-and-gold ceramic mug.

Edyis emerges with a tangle of Snowdrift riders from the bowl, rowdy laughter joining in the noise that already fills the Snowasis. The brownrider making a direct bee line for the bar, shaking the snow off as she goes. It's only after she's got a drink in hand that she surveys the bar's occupants.

There is a contingent of Frostbite wingriders in Snowasis, staking their claim to their own booth. It is from this group that C'ris is pushed, cajoled, and shouted down whenever he manages a protest. What is he protesting? Apparently-- approaching Farideh. Since that is where he gets propelled towards by one insistent, laughing, pretty blonde greenrider. He stumbles a bit and then catches himself, shoving hands into the pockets of his dark riding jacket in a very poorly chosen attempt to regain his dignity. When he's close enough, he offers a quick, light smile and a, "Hey, there. Glad to be off the sands?"

The antics of the Frostbite wingriders are hard to miss, and so is the bluerider's stumbling. Mug in her hands, Farideh surveys her former-sort-of-assistant-weyrlingmaster with upraised eyebrows and a querulous smile. "I'm infinitely glad to be off the sands. You cannot understand the frustration of nothing being able to fly-- with your dragon. How're you, C'ris?" And then she takes a sip, eagerly awaiting what comes out of his mouth next.

Edyis catches C'ris's approach of the goldrider, and with a smirk makes her way out with Drink in hand.

"You know, good. Just helping out with the clutches, again. I think Quinlys might have only let me because there's two of them, but--." The sentence ends with the exhale of a self-deprecating laugh, C'ris lifting a hand to ruffle at his fluffy hair as his eyes fall without thinking about it to Farideh's belly. But he catches himself quickly to look back up and smile again. Still, he ventures, "You still, uh, can't fly for a while, right? Or is it ok for you to Between now?"

"What a coincidence!" The mug hovers nearby Farideh's mouth as she gives him a beatific smile. "I'll also be helping out with the weyrlings this time. More about the politics and etiquette and leadership training, how we would like them trained, but close enough." She, of course, notices the glance, but with her features school into a pleasant expression, it's hard to tell what she thinks of that. "I can. It's only the first and the third trimesters that we can't. I'll keep going between until the healers tell me I can't-- which is in about another month. I'm enjoying it while I can."

"You should. Enjoy it. I mean, you're creating life inside you. Life," replies C'ris, all quiet awe in his words that contains his own reaction to that baby bump. He stops himself from further embarrassing himself, at least, with another flashed smile. He offers in addition, "If you need any help or advice--. Well, you know. I'm happy to help."

The smile dies on Farideh's lips. "You're--" She glances around him, back to the table of Frostbite riders. "Are you one of those guys who-- you know-- likes pregnant women?" Now, she giving him a careful up-and-down stare, with a worried expression causing her brows to knit.

"What?" C'ris flushes, and scrubs at his hair again before he continues defensively, "No. I'm not-- I don't-- I mean, pregnancy is amazing but I'm not some kind of... I don't." The table of Frostbite riders roars in laughter, one brownrider falling over a bronzerider's shoulder as he gasps for breath. The bluerider in front of Farideh also loses his smile.

"Oh." Farideh relaxes, then. "Why are they laughing?" She's back to staring at the table of raucous riders, particularly that brownrider and his friend, the bronzerider. "Did they set you out in a bet?"

"No. I don't take bets about other people," C'ris is quick to establish, firm in that belief, even as he slides a look back to his wingmates. "But, they, uh, wanted me to come talk to you. Since you were alone and I helped with your weyrling class, you know. I guess they just--." Think it's funny that C'ris is getting embarrassed by yet another woman? Probably that. But the bluerider only falls silent and shrugs a shoulder upwards.

While C'ris explains, Farideh's gaze revolves between him and his fellows. She only pats the couch next to her when he shrugs, and offers, "Come sit next to me. Give them something to actually talk about. Would they have wanted you to talk to Irianke?" Her lips purse, briefly, before she shakes her head and takes another, longer, sip from her mug.

C'ris hesitates, because of course he does when offered to sit next to the goldrider. It's only an eye's blink, however, and then he takes the seat, conscious of the space he's taking up beside her rather than careless of it. "No, probably not. But Irianke is-- Irianke, you know? I don't think it's the same," he answers honestly. "And I didn't help with her as a weyrling."

"It's not the same? How is it not the same? Am I scary?" Farideh seems genuinely perplexed by this, with a sideways look and a frown at the bluerider. "Does it change anything? When you helped our class?" Clearly, she doesn't get it, but, then, she's not a horny bronzerider, so she probably wouldn't.

"No. I mean, she's the Weyrwoman. I think that--." C'ris cuts himself off at that line of thought, though, shrugging a shoulder upwards instead. He answers in a simple, plain murmur, "I thought it did. Gave us-- not a bond, but something. Not that you need a bond or friends, but there you have it." There's nothing self-deprecating or self-pitying about the way he says this this time, before he glances back to meet Farideh's frown with a reserved study of his own.

"You want to be friends?" The goldrider's tone suggests surprise. "I didn't know that's how you felt C'ris. You could have said. You could have-- before now? It's not as though anyone is knocking down my door, trying to," Farideh says, considering the bluerider quietly. "I haven't seen you around much. Not since we graduated, anyway. It's been busy, I suppose."

"Less busy for me, without the weyrlings to help. I get to spend more of my time out, exploring Pern. It keeps Mivength happy," answers C'ris with a half-smile returning to his lips even as he is considered. "Though, with the two classes now, most of my free time will be spent helping, fetching. That stuff again." A pause, and there's a moment his thumbs fiddle together that suggest the bluerider might really appreciate a drink in hand at the moment before he continues, "Well, most people probably think your door is locked, you know? Maybe abandoned. Doesn't matter how much banging--. But I would like to be your friend, yeah."

"Another turn before anyone really gets a breath of free air, now. Unless they rise early again. I hope they don't rise early again." This last thought brings with it a frown, but it's easily flipped into a smile for his understanding. "It's harder," Farideh says, setting her mug on the table, "when you're the person look to for answers, to have friends who won't get hurt when you tell them no. It's easier to be closed off. Better, probably. Less pain, in the end." Her smile edges wider. "Friends. Do you want to tell me something about yourself that a friend should know? And I can tell you something of mine." It's kind of a start?

"I don't really-- need anything. Or have questions. You don't have to worry about telling me no or talking about the Weyr or whatever makes you uncomfortable," C'ris promises easily, sincerely, as he shifts on the couch to angle himself towards the goldrider. It makes it easier to consider what he's going to tell her, as he studies her, his smile disappearing as he rakes through the options of what a friend should know. "It's not like I am broken-hearted, or hung up or anything but. A few turns ago I had a girlfriend, a greenrider, who ended up weyrmating someone else. Haven't really dated since." A pause, before he tells her, "I don't really have many secrets. I am an open book." But then he pauses, waiting for her.

"That's comforting." Farideh's fingers link together and her hands fold demurely in her lap, in front of her burgeoning bump. "Your-- she--just like that? Without an explanation? Without an I'm sorry? What a horrible woman-- is she here?" She looks angry on his behalf, because that's what friends do, right? "I'm sorry that happened to you. It sounds-- it shouldn't have. You're too nice, C'ris."

"She fell in love with someone else. It's hard to hold someone accountable for their feelings, and if she wasn't in love with me anymore-- Well, I am glad she's happy now," C'ris answers, somewhat self-conscious about that answer in the face of Farideh's accusation but apparently not self-conscious enough not to offer it. His tell is in the way he lifts his hand to fluffy, soft hair and ruffles at it, trying to adjust it. "She rides in Hailstorm. Transferred out of Frostbite after it all happened and I stayed." He shrugs, then offers a slow smile to Farideh before he adds, "Your turn."

"I don't think I could be that selfless. She should have told you she didn't want to be with you anymore, before jumping into another situation. That's a hard blow to take, regardless. I think." Farideh still looks annoyed, but his calm about the whole thing assuages some of her own agitated. "Terrible, terrible girl." She sighs and slants him a look, which has one corner of her mouth lifting. "Mine. I have so many things I could tell you. We can start with: I don't especially have motherly feelings. You know, for," her shoulders lift, "the baby. I don't even know if I want to be a mother." Too late.

Gently, C'ris replies, "You may feel differently, after. Not that you have to. You don't need to feel motherly, and you have options-- There's fostering and, you know. Other options." There's a reassuring smile that he adds to that, as if it will all be alright. He hesitates, before gesturing to her baby bump briefly. "Can I--? Would you mind?"

"I know," Farideh says, her smile every bit self-deprecating. "I've given it plenty of thought. What else do you do the whole time? Do you get a nanny and raise them in-weyr, or do you let them be raised with the other weyrbrats? Do you foster them? Here or out? I don't know. It's all very overwhelming, and time is just-- it's running out." She pauses, and then looks surprised by his question. "I-- suppose. It's fine. She's not-- very active now. At night, mostly," she explains.

C'ris waits another moment, then two, as if waiting to make sure that Farideh is not changing her mind before he gently lays his hand across the curve of Farideh's belly. He watches his hand, even knowing that nothing may happen. He is genuine when he states, "All you have to do is love them, I think. The rest will work itself out." And when he looks up from her belly to the goldrider, he flashes another bright smile. "How do you know it's a girl? Roszadyth?"

"What if you don't? Love them, that is," Farideh asks, serious. "They may as well nominate me for worst mother of the century." Her nose scrunches up, before she sighs and says, "No. It's weird to call her an it, and better a girl than boy. I only have a sister and nieces. They're preferable to-" And she smiles, at him, because duh, he's a boy.

He only laughs, despite the disparaging comment to his gender, before C'ris starts to draw his hand away. "If you don't love her, you just have to love her enough to make the right decisions then, I guess. Which you will," he assures her simply, his attention focused on Farideh with an intensity that the puppy-dogness of the bluerider manages to not make too creepy, at least. "I mean, you loved Roszadyth enough to do that the moment she hatched, right? And you probably even love all of the Weyr enough to make the right decisions, even if you don't like everyone always."

"I do," of Roszadyth, "love her and I love High Reaches, even when I hate it, but it's not the same. A baby is-- work, and disappointment, and crying, and changing who you are and where you want to go. Look at K'del." Farideh shakes her head again. "I think I'm going to be very disappointed in myself, and I think one day, when she's grown, she will be too." That said, she scoots to the edge of the couch, looking up and around again. "It's late. I should-- but I appreciate it, C'ris. I do. Friends," she reiterates, with a smile, holding up a pinky before she rises, with as much grace as she can muster. "You won't be a stranger?"

C'ris will hook his pinky against hers easily, promising with his warm smile, "I'll bring you a bubbly pie," for his next visit, presumably. He rises when she does, like a gentleman. "If you need anything-- Well, we are friends now." Just like that.

"Friends," the weyrwoman echoes. "Enjoy the rest of your night, C'ris." Picking up her mug, Farideh tips her head towards the bluerider, with one last smile, and skirts the table on her way to the exit.