Difference between revisions of "Logs:High and Dry"

"Then T'zul claimed he could jump to the Red Star, if he wanted to, and that ended the argument. Anytime anyone says 'Red Star' in an argument, it's already too ridiculous to pursue." Lys finishes the brief yarn about the ever-exciting 'group bonding' dinners from the night before and this month's hot topic: between. "Anyway," the blonde shifts to sit up a little straighter, hands still loosely clasped between her knees. "I'm glad we could get together." It might be a little awkward to express, but seems heartfelt.

"Why ever would anyone want to go there?" the goldrider exclaims softly, half-lifting her fancy-looking mug of tea, all the while wearing a quizzical expression. "Of course," Farideh agrees, with a smile, "I always enjoy what time we can spend together. It's been harder since-- everything happened. Roszadyth, Igen, Evyth. One day we'll both have enough time to just sit and spend quality time. You should try these cookies-- Ajalia brought them back from Lemos. She swears they were cooked by the reknowned Lemos Baker, but she's a good fibber, normally," is all conversational.

"I can't imagine anyone would, but you know how some men get about proving they have the biggest balls at the table," or in the room or-- Lys rolls her eyes appropriately. The greenrider smiles as she rocks forward to reach for a cookie, nibbling on it, complimenting briefly, "Good," before she takes up the handy segue, "Yeah, so much of our whole lives have changed. We're a long way from the girls we were. How are things, lately? How're Ethran and Drex?"

"You'd think T'zul had a bronze between his legs and not a brown." Farideh hides her amusement behind the hand-painted flowered detailing on the side of her mug, but the other woman's question earns a near-silent sigh and a nod between sips. "I'd say. Ethran is growing. He's four months now. They told me he'd be crawling in another four, which is very strange to think about. Four months ago he wasn't even here-- well, he was, but not out."

"I'm not even sure it matters anymore. Colors. I used to think it did, but now I think just about everyone is as likely to be a dimglow as the next." Lys looks briefly sour about that. Her grumble of, "I'd rather just write off whole colors as idiots," like bronze, no doubt, is partly good-natured, but only partly. The more personal topic is taken up with a little uncertainty; Lys has been known to like children, but as a sister or an aunt might like a child, not ever as a mother might like one. "Definitely strange. Probably not that many after that he'll be walking. It's still strange to me that Evyth's flying, that she's huge," not by some standards, "I imagine it's probably more surreal with a baby." She nibbles the cookie again and then prompts, a little awkwardly, "And how's Drex?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Farideh perches her mug back on its saucer and relaxes back into the sofa, smoothing her rose-hued skirts with her fingers. "My experience says bronzeriders are more, particularly, prone to idiocy." It's doubtless she has one -- or a few -- in mind. "They all grow so fast-- Roszadyth is two turns as you guys are about to turn one. Two turns she's been mine, now." And it's not an imagination thing, if Lys notices the brief souring of her expression as she takes particular interest in the folds of her dress. "Somewhere in the middle of the ocean by now I wager."

Lys is caught off guard enough by that last to have her mouth pop open in her surprise. Finishing the cookie is not a good cover for the brief gape, but it's better than nothing. After quickly chewing and swallowing, she clears her throat, reaching for her own tea. "I'm sorry." There's genuine concern there. "Are you okay?" This is surely the most important question so it comes first.

Rather than being annoyed by the reaction, Farideh is somewhat amused, when she lifts her eyes to Lys. "You shouldn't apologize on his behalf. He'll have to when he gets back." She shrugs one of her shoulders, and rests her head on her folded arm; folded against the back of the sofa to create a bend that's convenient enough for head pillowing. "He always was supposed to leave. I thought he would have before now-- back, when I was pregnant, but-- he waited until he couldn't anymore I suppose."

Lys chews her lower lip a little, searching her friend's face as if seeking to tell truth from untruth (which doesn't strictly mean lie, of course). "Did he-- was it a joint decision? I mean, not that you would want him to go," of course not, "but-- did you talk before he did it or-- he was just gone?"

"A joint decision? Of course not. He set up this elaborate dinner the night before-- I think he tried to make it look like Igen-- and left a note the next morning. It's been a few days now." Farideh looks less than pleased, but what's a girl to do?

Lys winces, visibly, when Farideh mentions Igen. Rather than explain, though, she asks, "Do you think you could've changed his mind? If you'd known what he was was going to do?"

"I suppose I could have. That's what he said in his note-- why he didn't say beforehand. He didn't want me to ask him to stay," Farideh says. "I don't know what to say, especially when he dislikes it here so much. He doesn't have a dragon, doesn't have a reason."

Lys's eyes close briefly. "I'm sorry, Farideh." The greenrider's expression is unhappy as she asks, "Why doesn't he get a reason? Stand if that's the kind of reason it would take. He loves you and you don't get to choose a different life." There's frustration there. "Drex came to ask my advice. I should've come to you sooner." What ifs are certainly ships that have sailed.

"Stop apologizing for him." By now, Farideh is frowning. "Because dragons make him uneasy, I guess. Riding isn't a life for everyone. Not everyone is jumping at the chance. I can't blame him for that choice, but--" Her frown persists. "Asked advice about-- leaving?"

"That time I was apologizing for me," Lys' own unhappy expression persists though it's not exactly a frown. "Not about leaving, or-- well, I guess it was, but I didn't know that. He wanted advice about a present he could get you. One he was going to give you because he thought you'd be mad at him for something he hadn't done yet. I thought he was talking about-- I don't know, something less important than this."

"Oh." Oh. Farideh needs time to process all of that new information, though her expression is neutral throughout the duration. She is careful in her tone, and in her expression, when she finally collects her thoughts. "It's not as though you knew. He would have still left," she answers.

Waiting with patience is something that Lys' life has well prepared her for. In this case, there's a little tea sipping and a careful placing of that teacup back down, but she doesn't rush Farideh. When the brunette speaks again, there's an exhale that's some kind of mild relief. "I didn't," she murmurs before a shake of her head. "I wasn't really sure I should say anything, you know? I mean, we're friends, but you said- so many things have changed. I was surprised when he asked me to begin with and the only thing I could think of to recommend came from back before you Impressed, more than two turns ago. Maybe I feel like that's the last time we really knew each other, but... I don't want it to be like that."

"Frankly, I'm surprised he asked you as well." That has her frowning again, as perplexing a thought as it is; it's Drex after all. "It's not like him to ask other people for help." Farideh slants a look towards the low-set coffee table and the spread on it, of tea and cookies and little finger cakes. "You're right. We're not as close as we once were, but I'm not entirely sure I can be-- that way, anymore. I don't think Irianke has friends, like that. I don't think K'del does either. I'm certainly not sure about Jocelyn. If it's the freedom or the innocence or the lack of jaded character, I'm not sure. I can try to be a better friend, but I can't make any promises when life is already too complicated," she says, looking back at Lys, sadly.

Lys has only an unhelpful shrug for Drex and why he does anything he does. It's easier to look at the spread than it is to look at goldrider, so that's where blue-green eyes focus. "Whatever you can do is enough, Farideh. Just remember..." She pauses, searching for what she wants to say and settles with an unsatisfied sigh on, "I have your back, keep your secrets, can braid your hair," a hand lifts to wave in the air as if to encompass everything that a friendship might be. "What do you do these days to work out hard feelings?"

The hand Farideh rests on top of Lys' closest is thankful. "I know. I appreciate that you're there, and if you're ever having a very hard time-- know I'm here, even when I seem like I'm not. I'll always love you, however convoluted things become." She gives the weyrling's hand a squeeze before tucking hers back in her lap. "Nothing? I have so many hard feelings at this point, they just pile up and remain," she replies, wry. "I've learned to let a lot of things go when I can. Wine, sleep, and beautiful dresses can do a lot to assuage hurts."

There's a small smile for Farideh's gesture, but the rest is sobering. "Ditto," is for the first. "Next time you go to weaver, if we're free, can I come? I can ooh and ahh for you," that has some friendly attempt-to-cheer to it, but it doesn't last. "I don't know how to get rid of mine, either. I keep thinking it I just sort of tuck away each of my hard feelings all by itself, that I can keep managing, keep everything that's hard separate from one another. I think it won't work in the end, but-" facing them clearly isn't an option. "When Evy and I can between well enough, we should go to a gather. That was always fun together," wasn't it? She seems to remember it so on those occasions when they did.

"You are more than welcome to come, if your schedule doesn't interfere. I wouldn't want to make Quinlys mad by spiriting away her weyrling," Farideh says, her mouth curved in a smile. "I think it's generally better to find outlets for that-- speak your feelings, use one of those punchy things in the training room, paint. You know I used to wear my feelings on my sleeve, but that's not acceptable, really. I'm still learning to hide them away. Always wear a smile, always have a kind word-- never let them see you cry." She rolls her eyes towards the ceiling and then giggles. "Yes. We should. Something at Vintner preferably."

"Vintner," is emphatic agreement. "Only three and a half more months and then you won't have to worry about making Quinlys mad. Someone else, maybe, but I hear full wingriders end up with more time than weyrlings." That's a little dry. "Hiding feelings is hard; I think you're doing it wonderfully." Probably, Lys wishes it weren't necessary, but she has too much experience with goldriders to believe a thing like that. "But it's okay to cry, where no one can see you," she tells herself as much as Farideh. On that note, she's shifting to stand, "Evy's sorry to interrupt but--" weyrling dragons have needs. "I should go. Hug?" She asks-slash-offers.

"'Only-- that's exciting. I haven't heard any of the wingleader gossip. I wouldn't know who was sizing you up, but I am sure you'll get someone great like Mielline or--" Farideh wrinkles her nose and smiles, shifting to sit on the end of the sofa before she pushes up to her feet, to embrace Lys briefly in the hug she asked for. "It's no worry. I enjoyed our chat. And don't worry about me, those three and a half months will go by all too soon."

"No promises," is warm humor at the words about worry. Lys reaches down to claim one more of those cookies for the road, smiling down at the goldrider, "I'll have to check back in when we get closer, see what rumors you do hear," and then of course there's, "Thanks," for the cookie which is held up and then put in her mouth all at once as she turns to take her leave.