Difference between revisions of "Logs:Sudden Expectations"

For the lulz:
Farideh: Sing me the song of the one-eyed pirate girl~
Drex: Who likes bubble baths, and the love of her life goes on a risky, dangerous mission to secure her a nice claw bath~
Drex: And get stabbed in the process but manages to return it to her just in time~
Drex: So she can have a bath in his honor.
Drex: The end.

It's just at the start of the dinner hour, with most weyrfolk heading towards the caverns or preparing to. Drex, however, has been hanging out in the common room, leaning against the wall nearest the harper classroom. Classes are long since over, but it seems as good a place as any to wait for any sign of Farideh.

Three teenaged girls exit the common room together, chatting amiably betwixt them, and one of them happens to be the laundress. They're laughing gaily at something one of them has said, until the one on the left elbows Farideh in the side and elicits a glare for her troubles. There's a bit of wild gesturing and knowing glances to the sailor by the harper classroom. It's with a little blush and a purposefully sullen expression that she wends her way through the people filing towards the living cavern, towards Drex, her arms protectively crossing over her chest.

There's a particularly scowly look for Farideh's companions, particularly at those glances, but it's mostly gone by the time Farideh reaches him. Instead of greeting her like a normal person, he reaches for her arm with the intention of bundling her into the classroom, shutting the door behind him. That probably won't help with the gossip, but oh well.

More giggling and glances will be given as the girls walk off towards dinner, craning their necks to see as much of Farideh and Drex's interaction as they can before they can't anymore. Being manhandled by the sailor isn't new but that doesn't stop Farideh from making protesting sounds while she's being shoved into the classroom. "What are you doing?" she complains, loudly.

"Short of kidnapping you from your bed, figured this was the best way to separate you from the herd." And there's a look in Drex's eyes like he was seriously considering that as an alternate plan. Tugging a hand through his hair, there's a moment of awkwardness where he just kind of stares at her, and then he steps over towards the nearest desk, on which there's a small bouquet of yellow flowers, which he offers to her hesitantly.

"We aren't herdbeasts," Farideh retorts sarcastically, not hiding her displeasure at being compared to one. She stares steadily back at him, eyebrows lifted in both question and impatience; that annoyance doesn't falter until she sees the flowers. It takes her a breath or two to do anything other than look at them blankly, and then her eyes lifts to his face. "You got me flowers?" she asks quietly, not making any move to take them, yet.

"Then why do you always travel in packs?" Drex counters, logically. He's not unaware of her annoyance, even if he doesn't quite know why -- and her response to the flowers earns an exhale of breath. "Well, yeah. Heard that's what you do, when, well--" he does one of those half-shrugs of his, still holding out the flowers hopefully. "You like them? I could... get other colors, but there aint that much variety."

Drex gets a pass on the comments about herds and their implications, because flowers. It's incentive to draw her away from the door and towards the sailor, if with slow steps and an unsure expression. "You heard that's what you do when what?" she prompts. When her fingers close around the stems of the bouquet, extricating it from Drex's grasp, Farideh pulls them close to her chest in a reverent gesture. "No. They're pretty," but she's giving him a wary look when she says it.

Drex, probably undoing all the good work done by the flowers, answers: "When girls stomp off and you don't know why. Don't think Itsy'll want flowers, though." He looks pleased by her approval of the flowers, seating himself on the desk so that she has some height on him.

Farideh turns the small nosegay of flowers back and forth, inspecting the flowers, not without a little wonder and fondness. Her eyes flick up to glare at him for his second insult of the evening. "What do you mean you don't know why? I want you to apologize for being an idiot the other night."

"I asked you for your help, and you called me an idiot and stomped off!" retorts Drex, as he folds arms across his chest. "Why do I have to apologize for that?"

All of the initial joy of receiving flowers from her special beau has worn off it would seem. Displeasure sours Farideh's voice when she speaks. "You made fun of Itsy from the beginning. Why?" taking a stomp-step towards him. "What's wrong with her wanting to wear dresses? What's wrong with her wanting to try something different? I shouldn't have to help you. I have my own issues with my friend, and I don't ask you for help with that," she finishes, disgruntled.

"I thought we were ok," replies Drex, frustration written across his features, "It's what we always do. Did," he corrects himself with a frown. "She's never been this angry at me for this long." He returns his gaze to Farideh. "Aint nothing wrong with it, it just aint her. She's been different since we came here." He huffs a breath, then says, "If your friend was a guy, I'd help. Aint so good with girls. At all," he admits, a little sheepishly. "Itsy's the only one I ever really knew, and she won't even talk to me. Don't really know what to do, you know?"

An unsettled sigh follows Drex's frustrated account and Farideh moves to the desk, sitting down next to him, holding the flowers in her lap steadfastly. "How does a dress change who she is? I think she's still Itsy under all of that," she tries assuring, her face turned to the side to study him. "You should try being nice about it and not mocking her. Maybe she's embarrassed or frustrated. Maybe she trying to come to terms with all of it too. Just sit and listen, for once. I know that's hard for you." She faces forward again, rolling her eyes at his expense.

"It's not--!" Drex starts to protest her latter words, before there's a flush of color and he snaps his mouth shut. "Ok, fine. I'll try listening. Aint so good at that. Much better at doing." And he's giving her a sidelong glance, a sudden grin, and slipping his hand around her waist.

"If that doesn't work, I'll talk to her," Farideh promises. "I don't see why it wouldn't. Unless you did or said something I don't know about." Her eyes narrow and then widen, her cheeks starting to turn pink as soon as his hand navigates her waist. "This is a classroom and--" She leans slightly back. "You haven't apologized. To me."

"Well," Drex hesitates a moment. "There is something else." He pulls his hand away from her, folding them together in his lap, and lets out a long, slow breath, as if bracing himself. "I-- kind of slept with this girl she liked." He gives her a darted look, with just a hint of a smile. "And she's really pretty, and I can see why she'd be jealous."

Girls are weird! Despite her protests, Farideh looks disappointed when he moves his hand, and watches him sulkily. "That's not funny," she says, aiming to giving his chest a playful shove. "I don't think she likes me like that," unhindered by the smile that she can't quite stop or the delighted look thereafter, from his compliment.

"She aint ever dressed up for anyone else," Drex replies, with a shrug, like for him it's a logical conclusion. "And I can see why. Even I'd dress up for you. Maybe." With a sudden grin, glancing at the door, then back to Farideh, reaching to catch her hand after she's shoved him. "Think if we blockaded the door...?" He leans close as if to kiss her.

"I thought she does for Lord Devaki." A flicker of a frown interrupts her smile, but it's back in full-force when he leans close. "Do you think," Farideh whispers, since he's already near, "that a blocked door is going to keep Giorda out? She'll break it down." She doesn't move away, but stares contemplatively, lingeringly, at his mouth. "And then we'll have extra chores for months," as she lifts her eyes up, to meet his.

The dismissive grunt Drex gives in return suggests thoughts of High Reaches' Lord is pretty far from the pirate's mind right now, leaning in to press lips against Farideh's neck, nuzzling there for a moment. "Just have to be quiet, I guess. Sides," with a grin, as he pulls back to look at her, while fingers reach out to settle at her waist, "Everyone's busy with dinner." And then he leans in to kiss her.

The fluttery sigh she gives is assurance enough that neither is she thinking of the Headwoman or the consequences, but when he pulls back she frowns. "Wait, wait," with another sigh, this one less rapturous and more onerous. "We should--" Farideh's cheeks start to get rosy again and she sets the bouquet to the side. "Sort some things out. First. Before you do all that and I forget."

Drex's, "Mm?" probably isn't as interested or encouraging as it sounds, given his fingers are wandering down from her waist to her thigh, and his lips are finding her neck again. It's probably fairly distracting.

Farideh is properly disgruntled, from both frustration and desire. "Will you stop for one minute?" She even tries to grab his hand, the one on making its way down her side. "I need to know that you don't have unrealistic expectations."

His, "What?" is both an attempt at innocuous and entirely unrepentant at the same time, but Drex does at least stop with the distracting. Mostly, anyway -- the fingers of the hand she's grabbed are instead, brushing against the palm of her hand. Her words earn a blank sort of stare of incomprehension.

"You know," Farideh says, helpfully. "Expectations." Her expression is hopeful, that she won't have to explain the whole concept, but his blank stare wipes that away quick. "I was told we should talk about it," she sighs. "We should define our relationship." She speaks slowly, like that will help his understand what she's trying to say. "I don't want to--" Looking down, at their hands, "Have miscommunication? I like you, and I think you like me, but I don't want to become a sailor with you." She looks up then, biting her lower lip. It's hard to say what she expects his reaction to be - perhaps, horror?

Drex's, "Why?" is full of honest confusion. "I'm having fun, you're having fun." After a moment, he gives a lift-and-drop of his shoulders, "I offered 'cos I thought it was the thing to do. Aint gonna force you onto a ship. Might joke about it, though," he adds with a sudden, unrepentant grin. "But you aint a sailor." And then, as if he's only just realized what she said, "You were told?" with a certain wariness.

Relief floods her face in the wake of Drex's answer. "Yes," sounding sheepish, "you haven't met her yet. She's a goldrider from Fort Weyr, Lilah. She's Lya's mentor, I think, or maybe they're friends, but she's older and wiser and she says it's what we're supposed to do." Farideh looks convinced. "She wants to meet you sometime." But, as long as he knows, there's no more tension or hesitancy. "No. I'm not, and I don't want to be. It's fine, for you and Itsy," shifting her hand to try and lace their fingers together.

"You're talking to some goldrider 'bout us?" For some reason, Drex doesn't seem altogether comfortable with that. "If she's anything like your other friends," like the one that wanted to pretend to be murdered by him, and the other one who threatened him, "Don't know as I want to meet her." He looks, kind of awkwardly, down at their hands, now, though he's stopped trying anything for now. "Yeah. For me and Itsy," kind of glumly.

"Why can't I? Is there a rule against it?" Farideh is instantaneously mutinous looking and sounding. "I don't know what you mean by that either? Do you have a problem with my friends?" His awkwardly staring at their hands isn't a problem too much longer, because she pulls hers back and leans away again. "You don't have to meet Lilah, then," she says irritably. "Whatever, Drex." She makes a face at him - real mature like - and turns away, folding her arms sullenly, and from there devolves into a moody pout.

"Well." Drex lifts a finger, since his hand is now free, "One thought it'd be funny to play a prank on you and pretend like I'd murdered you." A second finger, "The other was all nosy and don't you hurt her, like that'd be something I'd want to do. And this new one seems to have an opinion on us and what we should be doing, and doesn't even know me." His third finger is lifted before he drops it into a ball. "Aint none of theirs what we're doing." A beat, "Sides, I'd much rather find time with you than with your friend."

The sound Farideh makes stems from anger. "Yours are any better? You only have the two, and Itsy threatened to kill Lya to her face. At least, mine, Lya excluded, are coming from a place of care. They don't want my feelings hurt, so what? Is that so bad? Would you want Itsy's? Or Rafe's?" She glowers at him, and only looks somewhat mollified by his assuaging comment. "I should hope so."

"Itsy's... never been great with people." Sounds familiar? Drex, though, is chuckling at that news, "Didn't know she did that," he admits, sounding almost kind of... admiring. He kind of considers a moment. "Itsy can take care of herself. Rafevan too, I think," with a shrug. "Don't need no babysitter looking out for them."

"Wow. Amazing. How grown up of them," Farideh says, with her fakest smile, after which she's resolutely silent on her side of the desk. She even seems to be avoiding looking at him, and glares instead at the far wall, one foot bouncing in agitation.

"You're mad at me again." Drex is not so oblivious as to be completely unaware of Farideh's mood. "Maybe I should just stop talking. Would that be better? I can make noises like the dollfins do." He leans close to her ear, and starts making this utterly weird high-pitched squeak.

Who could possibly expect that? Farideh certainly doesn't, and uses the flat of her hand to try to push his face away when he starts making dolphin noises in her ear. "What the fuck are you doing?" she near-screams in frustration, staring at him like he's lost control of his faculties.

"What?" Wide-eyed, feigning innocence as she pushes him away. "Too weird?" Drex concludes. "They laugh, you know. It's kind of creepy. Especially when they start following the ship."

"Way too weird," Farideh informs him, with that out-of-the-corner of her eyes type of disapproving glance. It's the rest that draws her further attention, grudgingly; she keeps her critical look though. "They laugh?" Her tone implies curiosity.

"Uh-huh. And if you throw them some fish, they do this weird head bob thing, like," Drex flips his head up and down, grinning at her, "Like they're clapping for you. And they laugh some more. They're pretty smart. Smarter'n'me, Itsy says. You could see it for yourself sometime, maybe. They don't really come to the shore, though."

"I've never seen one." The disapproval slowly ebbs out of her face. "I guess I'll just have to go on your stories, because I'm not," Farideh points out, "getting on a ship." She seems to remember her flowers then, and even if they're a little pressed from lying on the desk, she stares at them reflectively. "You never tell me any of the stories about sailing. Except that one time when you told me you killed someone," with a frown that's not hiding any of the amusement underlying it.

"Didn't think you'd be interested. A lot of it is all... you know... samey. But it's... nice." Drex sounds wistful and yearning, gaze distant a moment. "The roll of the waves, and the scent of the ocean, trying to predict the weather. It's kind of... simple, and pure."

"Samey? It can't be the same as here. It is a ship, and this is--" Farideh gestures around and sighs. "A big rock." She puts her hands on the edge of the desk and leans forward, her head tilted to watch him while he talks about his home. "Do you miss it a lot? Do you think you'll ever-- not? Sail?"

"I don't mean samey, like here. I mean, it's like... home?" Drex doesn't sound sure, or at least doesn't sound sure he's explaining it right. "Yeah," he admits, "I miss it. It's all I've known, all I'm good at, you know?" he glances at her sidelong, as if to see whether she understands. The suggestion of not sailing has him frowning in thought. "Been easier than I... thought, this past Turn. But I can't imagine being a landlubber for the rest of my life."

The brunette's head bobs up and down in confirmation. "At least you're good at something, even if that something involves being stuck in the middle of the ocean all the time," Farideh says, perhaps surprisingly, smiling. "You'll be leaving soon, right? It's been a turn. You said it would be a turn. Any day now?" She's looking at him when she asks, and silently, pensively, awaiting the answer.

"Haven't heard, and Itsy and I aint exactly... talking, the last few sevens." Drex is frowning at that, but he doesn't linger on it, instead, "Sailing aint all I'm good at," with a suggestive grin, giving her a gentle nudge.

"You'll talk to her. It will be fine. You'll see," is meant to be reassuring. His nudge earns a sharp look and poorly feigned innocence. "You are? I didn't know. I thought you only knew how to climb sails and throw around rope." Farideh's lips twitch from ill-suppressed humor.

"Can tie rope, too," Drex says, like this is some sort of appropriate counter. Standing, he reaches for the flowers with one hand, and her hand with the other. "Think we can find somewhere quiet before dinner finishes?"

"This place isn't as appealing anymore?" Farideh happily slips off the desk while holding his hand, and before they can get any momentum, leans up to give him a quick kiss on the lips. "I can think of a few," places, presumably, as she starts walking towards the door, simultaneously tugging his hand to get him to walk faster.

"Maybe next time," sounds like a promise, Drex returning the kiss with a grin, quite happy to be lead off.