Difference between revisions of "Logs:Divan Divides"

It's Turnover evening, and while the weather outside might be a bit foreboding, in the living caverns, the weyrfolk of High Reaches are celebrating the end of the Turn with gusto. It's likely as much the noise -- shouting, singing, dancing -- as the heat and press of far too many bodies that drives Drex out of the room after making the minimum appearance for his girl's sake. The nighthearth is practically deserted by comparison, the noise of the harper's music muffled, here, but still audible. The erstwhile sailor has claimed the prime couch in front of the hearth, stretched out full length, feet up on the arms of the couch. His far-too-nice outfit is already skewed, twisted out of obvious discomfort. There's a bottle of rum resting loosely on his chest, one arm thrown over his eyes. That might or might not be a snore -- it's difficult to tell over the ambient noise.

Ellerey, too, is a little burned out from all the celebration taking place, the former Bollian/migrant looking pleased to have escaped all the noise...and yet another offer to dance. Long legs move her smoothly along the coridoor towards the nighthearth and its relative peace, the brunette's skin flushed with exercise and some drink, one hand darting into a pants pocket to nab an overused, tatty kerchief so she can blot at the light perspiration upon forehead. Oh, ick; forget it. Too used. The nice sweater she wears is one of those 'Reachian cable knit affairs meant for the brutal part of the winters up here - dyed a very pale green - and it too sees a little action in place of the kerchief, a heavy sleeve swiped at her brow as she slows down...and notices some person on the couch beyond. Her motions are more quiet, careful so as to not wake up whoever that is...with the bottle of booze on his chest. Smirking a little at Drex, the woman moves towards one of the stuffed chairs not far away from him, looking to plop her butt down and enjoy a rest.

Something, some noise -- or maybe the stirring of air as she moves near -- jerks the sailor awake, one hand grasping for his belt, and missing whatever he expected to find there. The bottle of rum -- thankfully stoppered -- slides off his chest and to the ground with a solid thunk. Drex scowls, immediately, and all that before he's even noticed Ellerey -- his gaze goes to her, belatedly, and with some remnant of that scowl still in place. "What're you doing?" the tone is pitched accusingly enough to suggest that she's clearly transgressing in some, as yet unspecified, way.

As she moves to settle her butt in said chair, Drex is snorting himself awake, and the young man's actions and words have Ellerey looking at him with mixed humor and assessment, her brown eyes noting that scowl, ears his accusation. In an almost drawl, her throaty alto notes dryly, "Apparently I'm looking at someone accusing me of doing wrong." Brows arch slightly. Is she incorrect?

"That's my chair," Drex says matter-of-factly, indicating with a tip of his chin the chair she's seating herself in. Nevermind he's got all of the couch. With a stifled yawn, he pushes himself to a seated position, casts around for his bottle, and finally locates it on the floor.

Glancing down at *the* chair, Ellerey looks back up again to Drex, and responds evenly, "I didn't see a name attached to it. Why bother, when you have the couch, anyway?" Her small amusement remains, shown in the vague upturn of one side of her mouth, but the knotless woman appears pretty much neutral about this whole encounter.

"Didn't see you look none, either," Drex comes back immediately. He doesn't seem aware of the woman's amusement, his obliviousness as much due to the fact that he's not looking at her as anything. He gives a half shrug -- his shoulder lifts but the gestures only half completed, "Saving it for someone." Someone else is the implication, as he unscrews the bottle and takes a generous hit of the liquid.

"You were stone asleep, so how would *you* know what I did?" Ellerey ripostes with less quiet humor, this time, her eyes narrowing just a tetch, the quirk of her mouth evening out to a natural line. Not upset yet, no, but neither is she as relaxed as when she entered. No matter, *she* is occupying the chair, now, and that Drex seems to want to claim yet another piece of furniture doesn't seem to matter to the weyrling, who only shrugs at his second set of words, and turns her attention to the fire.

"Weren't asleep," Drex counters, defensively, scowling returning. He glances at her, snorts, and says: "Don't say I didn't warn ya," with one of his half-shrugs, taking another generous gulp from his bottle.

There's a small roll of brown eyes for Drex's shot back at her, Elle shaking her dark head a couple of times, and trying to pointedly ignore the young man. Oh, hey; there's a half chunk of bread on a tray on the mantle, and with the peckishness of someone who ate dinner hours ago, the woman stands again, steps up to her quarry, and tears off a small hunk of the still softer stuff.

And while she stands, Drex does too -- but not out of any polite courtesy, no. He drags the chair she was recently occupying closer, before dropping back onto the couch -- except this time he's using the chair as a footrest.

As she's tearing the chunk of bread, she hears the motions behind her, and as Ellerey turns to witness Drex snatching her chair, she can't help but stare at him accusingly, with what looks like a schoolmarm's growing lack of patience with a school-aged child. Noted flatly, "You must have been the most obnoxious one in your class." Stepping away from the hearth, the greenrider moves closer to the sailor, inquiring facetiously of him, "Do you feel the need to appropriate anything near you?"

The sailor adjusts his posture until he's comfortable -- or seemingly so, at any rate. "Class?" Drex echoes, with a blankness that suggests he's no idea what she's implying. When Ellerey approaches him, there's a sly grin on his features: "Aye, what's it to you? Weren't yours, neither."

Elle is nothing but casual, nay, perhaps even sloppy of motion as she offers a grin to Drex and his obnoxious daftness, the woman slowly rounding the couch he's splayed upon, and managing to get a few of crumbs of her bread bouncing down onto him while doing such. Are there other comfy chairs around? Her gaze searches for such. During such, there's a cool delivery of, "You must've had a bad time of it, as a little. Probably few or no possessions, maybe the same with a place to grow up."

Of course there are other comfy chairs around. Perfectly good ones. Drex only wants this specific one that Ellerey already sat in, clearly. There's a scowl as she deliberately drops crumbs all over him, muttering, "Yer a sore loser, eh?" It's her latter phrase though, that gives him this curiously bemused sort of expression, clearly telegraphing, the fuck? through his expression even if the only noise he makes is another snort.

Well, she tried. Sharp needles of the mind are lost on those with mental hides like an armadillo. "Not really," is noted blandly, the woman smiling just a tetch at Drex's scowl, Elle moving over to appropriate one of those other chairs, her chunk of bread held firmly between teeth, by now. Aaaand...over towards him she drags the piece of furniture - wood squeaking a little over rocky floor - until the chair is placed only three feet away from the couch, facing it. It's at around a 25 degree angle to the other chair which houses Drex's feet. And, now taking up a seat in her second chair, Ellerey gets comfy, tucks into her bread...and stares in veiled amusement at the sailor. Staaaaare.

Drex doesn't seem much bothered by her rearranging of the furniture. After all, he defended what he claimed as 'his', and, victory achieved, he celebrates with another generous gulp from the bottle of rum, looking pleased. He doesn't seem too bothered by the woman's staring -- given who he is, and where he is -- he's probably used to it by now.

Interesting. She's finding out little bits about this obnoxious boy-man by the moment, and when Elle's tactics fail to draw a rise of any sort from Drex, she settles back into her chair, and contempates him somemore. After a few moments of eating bread, chewing, thinking, a slow smile begins to creep over the woman's features, first touching only one corner of mouth, then continuing to suffuse the rest of her face. It even manages to touch the fringes of her brown eyes, which never divert themselves from the sailor for any bit of time longer than it takes to blink. By the time she's done with her mouthful, her smirk is broad, lips trying not to twitch into what might be laughter.

"Aint gonna fuck ya, no matter how much you oggle me," Drex finally says. "I gotta girl."

Skreeeee- screech. Twisting metal and rough inquiry touch her chosen. Elle is irked/curious/disgusted. Is Virisceth needed to help? Darkness oozes the potential for some nastiness. (To Ellerey from Virisceth)

You're also as full of yourself as you are ignorant and crude..." Ellerey notes with a small bounce to her voice, her grin now turning into a smirk. A faint bifurcation of her gaze soon has the young woman focusing on Drex again, noting with some humor, "I have a good solution for your problems. His name is T'rel, and he enjoys bending callow youths over a barrel for a good rodgering. Gets them quite relaxed and happy again."

Drex gives a nod, like he's heard that before. "Still aint gonna fuck ya," he adds, and then scowling, "Or let you watch. You weyrfolk are rife with all that kinky shit, aye?" He shakes his head, swallowing another mouthful of rum.

Rarely are people in the Weyr quite *this* full of their own crudeness and dubious station... And it's even irritating to someone who's used to dealing with lots of different people. She'll be alright...if this TOOL will simply snap, apologize, or ignore her...like she tried to ignore him. Grrrr. (Ellerey to Virisceth)

Well, she waited, listened, watched through Elle's senses, and - much like she was when a younger weyrling - Virisceth decides that *now* is the right time to strike/test...though this time, through her chosen's own mind and mouth. (Virisceth to Ellerey)

Hmm. No taking of the bait again. She though that one would work, as if often does on the holder and crafter boys. There's a faint look of curious, though smirky concession to this apparent fact in the woman's expression, her curly head shaking once, her bread nipped at once again. His own riposte doesn't even register on the greenrider's radar, Ellerey percolating over a few things in her mind - her twinned mind(s) - before she sighs gustily, notes, "With that obnoxious attitude of yours, I'm surprised your girl bothers to keep you around." Headshake. Small sad face. "Unless she has someone else on the side, of course." Blink, smile. "That would explain it: a smarter, kinder person, instead of a rude excuse for a human being, to make her happier when she can get away from you." Is there a strange little 'twist' to Ellerey's voice? Something that makes it hint at metal and darkness?

"Yeah, me too," Drex agrees, about his girl. "Suppose I must be somethin' in the sack, eh?" He's grinning now, even if it's his own words. "Guess you'll never know." Her latter words earn a sharp look, not so much suspicious as confused. He takes another swig from his bottle, tugging a hand over hair before he fixes his gaze on Ellerey and says, "I know people like you. Makes you feel better, aye, trying to tear apart some shitbag you'll never see again? Figure, you oughta just go get drink, or fuck someone or something." A beat, "Not me, obviously."

Oh. Sweet. FARANTH! *No!* « VIRISCETH! » Not for long months has Ellerey used the horrified and outraged heat of her mind to immediately castigate her green lifemate for doing what is so horrible to Elle: taking over her human. And to deliver pain, too...even if it was only to protect her. (Ellerey to Virisceth)

And, while Drex is nattering on about his prowess in bed, then peering at Ellerey in cofusion before he starts talking again, Elle is...stock still and looking far off into the distance. Drex has to have seen that 'look' before enough times: someone is communing with their dragon. And from the bloodless pallor that's crept upon the woman's features, the way that the rest of her bread tumbles from hand to lap to floor unnoticed, it's a total whopper of a communique. Her mouth is slightly open in a slightly aghast moue, and her throat works some. Give her a long handful of seconds, and she's finally going to start returning her consciousness to the room...wide eyes that contain both old fear and bright concern - and leashed anger - trained upon Drex.

WHAT?!? She was trying to help, and this seemed the best fusion of both opinion and wish to react. Unlike when she was a baby, Virisceth now does not always need Ellerey's highest opinion of her, the green sullenly withdrawing after the mental lambasting from her human, cocooning herself in viscous darkness, refusing to deal with Elle, for now. Deal with it. (Virisceth to Ellerey)

There's no indication that Drex comprehends the meaning of that look; he's rolling his eyes. "Yeah, real mature. Stopped playing the pretend they don't exist game when I was like this high," he holds his hand up briefly, before twisting back into a more comfortable place, where he can't see Ellerey's expression.

What-huh? Ellerey only manages to make out Drex's '...I was like this high' as she surfaces from the spat with her dragon. She still looks partially shocked, but is quickly regaining some ground, ashen skin now only pale, her mouth snapping shut, eyes locking down the fear and anger inside of her. Swallowing a few times to regain control of her voice, try to even it out, the tall woman murmurs in strained, low tones, "Please pardon me for whatever I... *we* just said last." Frown. "I...she..." Headshake. "That was only partially me." Now, she's mostly just embarrassed. Shiver. "I don't have to like you, nor you me." Flat, that. "But I don't condone my dragon inserting her own...opinion of you into mine."

There's another of those the fuck? looks from Drex, even going so far as to swing his feet off his chair in order to do so. "Yer one weird chick," he concludes. It's only when she mentions a dragon that he makes a noise at the back of his throat. "Should've figured," he says, with a roll of eyes.

Moment by moment, Ellerey's becoming more 'human' instead of part of a dual mind, her concentration returning to the room, to Drex. When the sailor continues to cop his attitude, the tall woman finds herself leaning forward in her second chair, her brown eyes now openly irked. "What is *with* you? And who the Shell are you in the first place?!" Her voice is low, but intense.

Rolling to his feet, Drex tucks his bottle under an arm, oblivious to whatever struggle the weyrling's undergoing. "Aint no-one," he mutters, turning to slouch off -- not towards the living cavern, but the other direction.

Up she surges from the chair, not brooking any interference, Ellerey moving quickly after Drex. "You think avoiding this is going to help?" is noted to the slouching sailor from his tail. She's still keeping her voice low, but intense. "You were - *are* - purposely obnoxious and rude, acted like you owned the whole place, and you now want to tuck tail and forget about it?"

The sailor isn't exactly moving speedily, with his slouching walk, and he's easy enough to catch up to. Less easy is his reaction to her following him: "Just wanna drink somewhere quiet and not get pestered by no randy rider. Aint too much to ask, is it?" he's scowling at her, like that might help make her back off, continuing to move all the time.

Wait.. he's saying something that's *not* rude? Ellerey's blinking in surprise at Drex's words, still following him along, though he wants to be left alone. Frown. "I'm *not* randy." Stark statement, that. "Contrary to your belief, enough riders aren't balls of raging hormones all the time...or even half the time." Wait-wait, she's getting off track defending herself...and others. A deep breath to try and control her temper presages a tight, "You *know* you moved to a more-or-less public place to quietly drink, right?"

The noise Drex makes suggests he doesn't agree with her self-assessment, but doesn't care enough to voice it aloud, either. "Weren't no one there, before," he points out. Before her presumably. He's slouching his way towards the inner caverns, and then towards some of the tunnels, pausing at an intersection, glancing towards her. "Do you bother yer friends this much, or only people you hate?"

Like Ellerey cares about his agreement or not. "It's still public, so you should really expect that other people can and likely *will* show up at some time, sooner or later." Scowl. "If you want a private, quiet place to drink yourself into a stupor, try one of the small closets off the storage caverns, or have a rider ferry you up to one of the unused weyrs." Twit. "I only 'bother' those who have it coming." Stare. She's still tagging along with him. After a few moments for thought, "If you dislike riders and the Weyr so much, why are you here?" Beat. "If only for your girl... Well, you're making yourself *and* likely other people unhappy, with your crappy attitude."

"Where do you think I'm trying to go now?" Hint, hint. Drex is folding arms -- complete with that bottle -- across his chest. "Aint asking you to be my bestie. The fuck you care if you don't like me? Just turn around and walk the other way." His chin indicates the opposite direction of where he was trying to head.

"Who'd've thought: you actually have a quarter of a brain in that thick skull..." Ellerey mutters sourly back to Drex, glaring at him. His next words finally draw her up to her full height, make the woman step purposely in front of the sailor to try and stop him. "Because *you* are likely too fucking stupid to heed some decent advice, so I'll likely encounter your sorry ass again sometime in the future, no matter if I want to, or not. If you won't help yourself, then *I'm* going to try and save *myself* some potential, future problems...like running across you on a very bad day and maybe having to have the Healers wrap my knuckles after I punch you in that nasty mouth." So fuck you very much. Having had it up to >here< with the man, Ellerey finally sidesteps, and seeks to march back to the hearth again, disdaining even looking back at Drex.

"Yer one crazy chick," Drex reiterates, and it's with relief that he sees her turn away. He slinks down one of the tunnels, off to who-knows-where with his bottle, retreating from the merriment of a Weyr in celebration.