Logs:Happy Accidents
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| RL Date: 17 January, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, H'vier |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Two not-friends are friendly enough at Ista Hold's gather. They don't kill each other! |
| Where: Ista Hold |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: Humid. |
| Mentions: Lycinea/Mentions, Teoma/Mentions, Mishal/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions |
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>---< Ista Hold >------------------------------------------------------------<
Lush tropical foliage and extensive coastlines comprise the main areas
around Ista Hold, from the Lord Holder's prize citrus trees to the white,
sandy beaches stretching to the south and east. Glittering shades of green
and blue cradle the sands, with the ample docks jutting out to the south
providing easy access to ships for both transportation and delivery of
goods.
The hold itself is rather large, built into a seaside cliff that overlooks
marshlands, jungles, and water alike. The courtyard that leads to the
entrance of the Hold is made from slabs of light grey limestone. A layer
of gravel has been laid as a mortar for the large, irregular slabs. Moss
and other trample-hardy plants grow between the slabs, spilling green onto
the stark rock and creating a constant headache for gardeners trying to
keep the green away from the Hold. Herb and flower gardens sit on raised
beds and simple benches and tables litter the courtyard.
Inside, the great hall is lined with tables made of a hardwood specific to
the Istan jungles, the decor reminiscent somewhat of a ship with carvings
and bright, tropical colors. The hold extends several floors up with rooms
and offices for its inhabitants, while the lower level is occupied by the
Ista Harper Hall.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Farideh F 18 5'5 Skinny, Brown hair, Hazel eyes 0s
H'vier M 39 6'5 Big, Dark hair, Brown eyes 6s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- The thing about gathers on Ista Island is that it's difficult to dress up and still be comfortable in the humid heat. At least, it's difficult for H'vier to dress up and still be comfortable. But the bronzerider isn't going to be wearing some pretty, airy summer dress, so instead he'll have to do with lightweight trousers, leather sandals on his feet, and a loose, tucked in button down shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows when it's time to meet Farideh in the bowl. Reisoth, too, is wearing dressier, less practical straps, but they're plenty sufficient to get them to the hold and back. It's not until they're on the other side of between with their feet back on the ground that H'vier asks the girl, "Are you expected back at a certain time?" Between the weather at the Reaches, the cold of Between, and the sub-tropical clime of Ista, it's true a girl is pretty hard-pressed to choose a practical outfit. An over-large coat serves the right purpose in keeping the chill at bay until they are in the humid air on the island, and Farideh can shrug it off in favor of the lovely indigo-hued frock underneath; cap sleeves, lightweight material, and mid-calf length make it both tasteful and appropriate for the weather. She doesn't appear bothered that her dress is a tad too large for her skinny frame, and absent-mindedly touches a hand to her coiled braids, her eyes shifting wistfully to the colorful citrus trees nearby. "No. I switched my rest day with another girl. I am all yours, H'vier," she teases brightly, holding out her jacket so that he can either carry it or secure it to Reisoth. "Good," says the bronzerider as he takes her jacket and tucks it away in one of the convenient compartments attached to Reisoth's straps. "I wouldn't want to rush an otherwise lovely day." Never mind that they're just getting started and neither of them has had a chance to piss off the other just yet. H'vier is hopeful that the day will go well. And that might mean he plans on being on decent behavior. "I figured we could browse the stalls for awhile first," he continues once Reisoth is sent on his way and H'vier turns back to Farideh, offering her the crook of his arm and only slightly wandering eyes. "Is there anything in particular you wanted to look at?" Placing her hand in the bend of his arm, Farideh lifts her eyes up to the bronzerider's face, trying to read his expression, like there might be something nefarious hiding in his words; they do have a reputation. "I hope Lady Miule is here. She has quite the tastes, but, besides that, there's a weaver from Nerat who I've heard good things about. Journeyman Astyr I think, is what her name is," she answers, all conversational, effortlessly so. "Did you just come for the drinks? Or to see your friends?" What is it with women wanting to know about friendship? H'vier listens in what seems to be an attentive manner, eyes on the other people making their way to the gather proper from their rides into Ista. "I usually commission directly from the Hall. But there are interesting things to be found, to be sure. I don't believe I'm familiar with Journeyman Astyr." It's a moment before he continues, glancing down at his much more petite companion, "I have acquaintances and business associates." Not friends, presumably. "I come for the drinks, the dance, the food, the goods. Same thing anyone else comes to a gather for, hmm? I'm also looking for turnday gifts for Tayre and Tahvra." To keep up with H'vier, Farideh has to length her strides somewhat, and that requires concentration besides being attentive to his conversation; if her eyes drop to the ground every few feet, it's only to be expected. "What weavers do you use? I didn't know you were so fashion forward, H'vier," she jokes, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth, "She is fairly new and raved about, in the warmer climes anyway. I don't know how she would do with mantling a fur cape, but, for flirty dresses and breathable ensembles." She can go on and on about clothing all day, really! Her other hand comes up to smooth the side of her hair, brushing back the fly-aways that have escaped her braids in the humid Istan atmosphere. "Oh, lovely. How old are they?" There's an amused snort from the formerly Istan bronzerider about fashion. "The worst you've ever seen me wear are flight leathers, girl. I don't dress like some common holder for a reason." That reason, perhaps, being that H'vier isn't some common holder. "But I suppose our weavers and tailors would be different." Different specializations and all, given that H'vier does not wear womens' clothes, as much as some people might wish that he did. "Tahvra is turning three on turnover. Tayre will be two. As will Mayrin. But I doubt Fayla will accept any gifts I try to give to her." H'vier is silent for a moment before asking, "Do you have any brothers? Sisters?" "No, you don't, but you don't dress like a Lord High and Mighty either," Farideh notes with a wistful, flicking her skirt out so it catches on the mild breeze. "I don't understand why Reachian riders don't wear more High Reaches' blue. Have you no loyalty to the name?" It's half teasing, half curiosity, when she jerks verdigris eyes from their perusal of the upcoming stalls to H'vier's face; she even has to shield her vision with a hand, from the harshness of the sun. "I do. I have one sister, older, and I suppose her husband could be called my brother though I am closer to his brother. My sister turned twenty-one recently. Do you?" "Because they dress horribly," is H'vier's simple input on that. "You'll have to ask a Reachian rider at some point. But it might have something to do with them not being fucking harpers." The bronzerider has a slight grin to go along with it. Her questioning of his family considered briefly before he offers, "Perhaps. But I don't know them if I do. My father was a rider. I'm sure he sired more than just me just as I'm sure I've sired more than the few children I'm aware of. I suppose that's not something a woman has to think about, hmm? Having a child you aren't aware of." "Harpers," with an effusive grin, "dress impeccably. It wouldn't hurt to take their lead on things from time to time. Wearing your home's colors shows pride and allegiance and-- I sound terribly Holdbred." Farideh heaves a tiny, self-serving sigh and slants the dragonrider a thoughtful look. "Do you wish you'd known them?" Her mien turns amused, much like the tone of her voice. "Everyone says how dreadfully painful the whole process is. I imagine women cannot forget about it, even if they wanted to," she muses sorrowfully, leaning just a bit forward, to see around H'vier at a stand of hats. "Sometimes," allows the bronzerider, not commenting further on High Reaches' colors or his allegiances to the same. "But wishing for things that can't be is a waste of time and energy. The future is what's important, not the past." Philosopher Havi strikes again! He pauses at the stand with the hats in case she wants a closer look, though his gaze is cast further along. "They must forget well enough to be able to want more children." There are plenty of those women in the world, after all. "That is a load of crap, sir rider," Farideh says with more than enough cheek, letting go of H'vier's arm to get a closer look at the quality of the millinery on display. "Everyone is shaped by their past. I wouldn't be nearly so Holdbred if I wasn't, and I would be--" She smirks, looking at him over her shoulder, while her fingers test out the brim of a bonnet. "There must be some thing worth all the pain and trouble? What makes you keep having children?" But rather than look at him, she puts on a sun hat and poses in front of a convenient looking glass, testing out her angles. "Of course everyone is shaped by their past. I didn't suggest you forget about it. Just that dwelling on things you can't change serves no worthwhile purpose." H'vier's gaze returns to Farideh as she looks at the various hats. "I don't keep having children. I enjoy having sex. It just so happens that sex has a way of making children. I have little control over what women decide to do once the sex is over." She should know, after all. And maybe it's the fact that he's thinking about sex now that makes him say, "You look nice, by the way." He doesn't even comment on how she could probably do with something tighter. "I wish it was that easy," the laundress says, twisting around to see what the back of the hat looks like, which is ridiculous since she can't look and see the back at the same time. "You only acknowledge certain ones though. What makes the difference? You could just keep pretending they don't exist like many dragonmen do." Farideh turns to regard H'vier thoughtfully, but ends up smiling sunnily and twirling for his benefit. "Do I? Look nice? I never thought hats were my thing, but I am willing to give it a try if you promise you aren't fibbing." She turns back to the mirror piece, pulling the hat at a jauntier angle, and fusses with her hair. "I'd acknowledge all of them, most likely, if I knew who they were. And that they were truly mine." Which, let's face it, is probably not going to happen with any other children that came forward claiming him as their father. "I'm rather certain you could pull off anything you wanted to, Fari. I can't imagine you not looking nice in something." And even then, she could just take it off. He probably doesn't say that out loud on purpose. "Is that the one you want?" he asks, gesturing to the crafter in attendance as though he expects to be making a purchase soon. "What if you had a hundred? Would you claim all of them?" The brunette is having a bit of fun at his expensive, wearing her smile continuously while she postures and twists. "That is very kind of you to say, H'vier, but I am quite settled on the fact that I would look shrimpy in those leathers you riders wear. They're so bulky," she pouts, giving the brim of the sun hat one more caress before turning away from the mirror; her full attention returns to the bronzerider. "You don't have to buy me anything," she says, wrinkling her nose, but decidedly, doesn't remove the hat or make a move to produce her own coin; entitlement comes as far as this. "Sure," says H'vier without any particular hesitation. It's not like children are very time-consuming for a male dragonrider if they don't want them to be. "I think you'd look pretty sexy in my leathers," he offers, probably to get a reaction rather than actually expecting her to put on any of his clothes. "I know I don't have to buy you anything," he assures her. "Just like you know you don't have to have sex with me when this is over. The difference is that I want to." Buy her things. Probably also the sex, but that's just a happy accident. "Surprising," Farideh says at last, mimicking overdrawn shock. "I could wear your jacket as a dress." She's laughing now, not taking any offense at his suggestions -and why would she when they've been down this road before - and repositioning her hand in the bend of his elbow. "Why the change in mood? We hated each other a few sevendays ago," head tipped back, letting the brim of her new hat shade her good-humored eyes from the sunlight. "I'm not sure it would be very flattering as a dress. But it would definitely be hot." For him, anyway. Once the hat has been purchased and they're continuing on their way with Farideh on his arm, he says, "Like I said. I don't dwell on the past. And I think we're better served not hating each other, don't you?" If H'vier has ulterior motives, he's keeping them pretty close to himself. Unless it's to get her back in bed. He certainly won't turn down that opportunity if it should ever present itself again. "Not flattering, at all." But since they're moving and not dwelling, Farideh lets her gaze roam the stalls again, occasionally marking this or that person with a polite smile. "As long as you don't sleep with Lycinea, we can certainly be friends," she replies amiably, letting her unoccupied hand rest on his forearm in a conspiratorial way, leaning closer to him to whisper: "Because I will have a problem with that, but you already know that, right?" And they're back to their previously scheduled programing, back to the pleasant stroll in the Istan sun with good smelling food and music being played merrily in the background by unseen harpers. "If I do sleep with Lya, it will be because she wants to sleep with me." And Farideh wouldn't want him to not give the girl what she wants, would she? H'vier is probably not very threatened by the girl on his arm who is an easy foot shorter than himself, though. It might even be kind of hot that she's sort of trying in its own right. Besides, he knows she's not willing to stand in for the blonde. Even if that's sort of what she's doing here. "Do you want to get something to eat?" "When she's twenty," Farideh interjects pleasantly. "You have enough children." He can take that comment how he wants, because she is humming quietly to herself, checking out a booth of artfully hand-painted fans as they pass it; it's almost as if she didn't say it. She latches onto his proposal and nods her head emphatically. "I could use something to drink. It's as hot as I remember. They have these petite cakes too with chilled fruits on top," she says, pinching her fingers together to let him know how small, exactly. And after that, she's just happy to smile and watch the stalls they pass on their way to the food hawkers, where she can sate her thirst and pick as many sweets to snack on as H'vier is willing to buy. |
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