Logs:Exiles Catch Up
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| RL Date: 25 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Emmeline |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Emmeline and Devaki catch up. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 4, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Rhaelyn/Mentions, Viremi/Mentions, Seani/Mentions |
| Rather then actually be comfortable in one of the many chairs, Emme has found herself seated on the much less comfortable floor so that she can have her scrolls on one side, klah on the other... and all within reach, while well illuminated by the light given off by the hearth. She apparently expects little in the way of company, but has been careful not to block either of the chairs or the table. Everyone thinks the Islanders are odd anyway, so being seated on the floor ought not to cause much in the way of raised eyebrows from anyone. Anyone except for maybe another islander, at any rate. "Did you know Weyrfolk invented these things called chairs? They're really quite comfortable," Devaki jokes, though he offers a smile of greeting along with it. He's carrying a bowl of stew and a mug of something that's definitely not just juice anymore, and he settles himself quite comfortably in one of the seats nearest Emmeline, from which he can peer over her shoulder at her word, unashamedly looking. "What're you up to?" "Did they? I must be too much of a ditz to notice these days. ou're such a sweetheart for telling me." Emmeline muses, glancing up long enough to offer a return smile and nod of greeting. "I am working on..." she pauses, frowning at the sheet in front of her so that she can make a notation on it.. "... a piece of music. About us. The exiles." she murmurs, almost chewing on the end of her quill for a moment before she realizes what she's about to, and makes a face. Yuck. "That's how people seem to learn of things around Pern. And so it will be part of whatever projects I need to do in order to advance. Assuming I don't Impress." Devaki can't help but to chuckle at the response, pale eyes glimmering with amusement. "Sweetheart is /not/ a word I would've used. You've always been too kind to me, Emme," his amusement lingers a bit longer, before it's overridden by curiosity at her answer. "Music?" He muses on that for a moment while he starts in on the stew, "That's -- that's a good idea. Though what, exactly, are you saying? I can't imagine anyone -- even the Harpers -- would be pleased if you tried to tell the truth. Might hurt you, if anything," he says, with a note of concern. "Sweetheart was code for 'Thanks for being an ass and pointing that out'." Emme reveals, as if there was ever much doubt of that. "And I wouldn't exactly call me kind these days." she adds, her smile turning a bit brittle in response. "I'm starting with the present, of course. I won't reveal the past until much later. Believe me, I know how to cover my own ass. There hasn't ever been anyone doing it for me. There wil be nothing in any of the lyrics except details of our traditions, and the reasons for them. For now." she clarifies, glancing up with a rasied eyebrow at the note of concern. "Don't concern yourself with what may or may not hurt me. I'l be just fine." "Good to see some things never change," Devaki says fondly. His expression changes as she talks; it grows kind of odd, considering. "That isn't the first time you've made comments about people not looking out for you. I don't know where you get that but -- you know if you want or need help you only have to ask. You haven't. You want me to offer? I'm offering. But you... you seem fine. You seem like you enjoy being a harper, being a candidate. I didn't think you /needed/ help. And," he makes a face, "When people say not to be worried, that's normally when they should be. What is it?" He sets aside his bowl, leaning forward, attention fixed firmly on her. Emmeline laughs at that. "No, some things never do." she agrees, shrugging off most of his comments with a roll of her shoulders. "We're not on the Island anymore. I /don't/ need anyone looking out for me here. I am enjoying being a harper, and a candidate. Not so much the part where I'd need to be an apprentice for another 10 Turns mind you, but it isn't as if I've a place anywhere else." she drawls, with a note of cynicism creeping in to her voice. "Come now, you don't really think I'm about to spill my secrets do you? You forget that we used to trade them. It was never one sided." she chides, setting aside the quill and ink so that they don't spill when she picks up her klah. "Besides which, there /is/ nothing to worry about. I am, and will be, fine." Devaki seems rather unconvinced. "I'm not worried about secrets. I'm worried about /you/." His gaze remains level on her for a few beats longer before he shakes his head. "I'm sure they'll shave some time off. They have to be seen to be treating us... unfairly evenly." There's a light drawl as he says that last. His head tips to one side. "Are you going to this gather that everyone's been talking about?" "Mmm." Emme seems equally unconvinced of Devaki's initial statement, though she doesn't voice that. Her expression has always been far too readable. At least for the mindhealer. "I'm not so sure about that actually. They don't seem inclined to do me any special favors. And you have no idea how far behind I am. It's embarassing how much I don't know." Which irks her to no end, just because it -would-. "The gather, right. I haven't really decided. But it seems like a nice way to get out and enjoy a different atmosphere. I would imagine you're going? I mean, it's High Reaches Hold. Of course you would be." Her reaction, if anything, evokes a more obvious one from Devaki, a visible expression of hurt, though he hides it as he pushes up from his seat. Abandoning his food, he heads over towards the hearth, mug in hand, sipping slowly. "I'm going," is all he finally says, "With whatever escort K'del deems suitable to keep an eye on me." "Don't act all hurt on my /now/, Dev. You've never been straight with me. Even when I thought you were, you still had only half-truths and evasions for me. Pretending that I suddenly matter doesn't do either of us any good." Emme points out mildly, her tone muffled by the use of her cup. He may have hid it after it appeared, but neither of them are very good at keeping the other from an accurate reading. "I wouldn't feel too bad about the escort. All of us are getting one. So it is, at least, not personal." "I've always been straight with you. You're my friend, but you seem to struggle to even believe me in that. What else am I--" Devaki breaks off shakes his head. "Doesn't matter now, I guess. If you think I don't give a shit about you, then it's pretty obvious where we stand." He drains the rest of his mug, posture stiff as he turns away from the hearth, anger creeping into his expression. "Yes, don't take it personally. Why should I, when they send a guard to watch over every single exile? Nothing to feel personal about at all -- no." "This is hardly about what I -think-, and more about what I've been... shown, since we got here." Emme replies, her voice hoarse for a moment before she clears her throat. "But none of it really matters in the end anyhow." Where he's angry, she's just tired. The lethargy suddenly evident in the way she starts to roll up all the hides that were beside her into one big group so she can stuff them into a tube. "I didn't say you shouldn't be angry about it. Just that it's not about you. It's about all of us. It doesn't matter how much some of us try to find a place and fit in, we're going to be judged based on what the most unstable of us do. As a group, anyhow. I hope you find what you're looking for there, Dev. Whatever that's worth. Even with a guard looking over your shoulder you're smart enough to find a way." Devaki's expression is closed, though the tightness of his jaw is enough to convey anger all the same. He stares at Emmeline for a beat, then finally says, "So do I. What do you mean by... what you've been shown?" Emmeline pauses long enough in her silent tube-stuffing ritual to look up, and meet the stare. As unnerving as it is. And then recognize how awkward it makes her feel to be looking /up/ the way she is, thus forcing her to stand. Stubbornly, of course. And with mug in hand so it can be placed on the table. So conscious of everything. "You're kidding me, right?" is her first reply, that she waves away irritably. "Sure, you -ask- how I am, when we manage to run into each other by accident. You spend far more time with everyone else, even those you didn't call friend back on the Island. You talk to everyone *but* me the rest of the time. You don't even like being *near* me. It'd take you about 5 full seconds to pull your arm away from me if I rest my hand there. And I won't even bother discussing how poor an excuse 'I fell on my face' is for when you'd obviously been repeatedly punched." "/You're/ the one that's always busy! You're always in lessons, or buried in the records or doing chores. Don't pin this on me," Devaki retorts angrily. "A friendship goes two ways -- you haven't spent much time with /me/ either. You're far more interesting in becoming a harper, and I would never begrudge you that." He shakes his head, making a noise in the back of his throat. "You want me to air my dirty laundry in front of Rhaelyn and all the rest of the random candidates in the barracks? Yes, I lied about the fight. Of course I did. What would've happened if I'd told the truth -- that my cousins and I fought? You'd want to talk to them, and I don't want that. It was between us, and that's the way it's going to stay. You're right, /that/ is no one else's business." "And why do you think that is, exactly? That I'm buried in work of one kind or another all the time? Because it's all I've got. That's why. What I can do for everyone. That's all I am. It's all I have left. It's all that's wanted from me." Keeping her voice just woodenly stiff then, she adds. "No. No I wouldn't have wanted to talk to them if you told me not to. Have you already forgotten that I've kept every secret ever asked of me? But you're right. It's none of my business." she agrees, briefly eyeing the exit as if she'd far prefer to flee. But instead just settles herself into a chair and curls herself up. "What do you want from me?" Devaki asks, obviously frustrated. "If you keep telling yourself that's all you have, and you don't try for anything else, then yes. That's all you have. You have friends. But if you hide from them and bury yourself in your work, what do you expect them to think?" He exhales a breath, sharply. "Being a harper is something you've /always/ done and always loved. Being a candidate is something you seem proud of. But you're angry at me for not-- not noticing that you did something you love and are proud of and what-- trying to convince you not to do it? I don't understand why you're angry, Emme, I just don't." He stops a beat, grimaces, and clarifies: "No, I said it's no one's business, not just yours. It's not personal." It's deliberate, that he throws those words she so recently used back at her. "Don't worry. I'm not taking it personally." Emme lobs back at him, keeping her tone even. "I already told you what I've observed that's made me feel the way I do. You answered. And it doesn't seem that there's anything to do about it. Maybe I should just hang out at Snowasis and get drunk a lot... oh, wait. No, I can't do that. Candidate rules." she explains, as if he's not already aware, and she's not just being bitchy. "I guess I'm angry at you for not turning to me for anything. Anything other then what can be done for others, anyway." That, at least, seems sincere. "I just want to be there. I guess." There's a kind of odd expression on Devaki's face as she mentions hanging out at the Snowasis and getting drunk, though it passes swiftly enough. "You've made a life for yourself here, Emme. That's... that's a good thing, I think. But I don't /want/ that. I don't want to stay here forever. I don't want to be a slave to a dragon -- to this Weyr -- forever. I want to uphold our Traditions. I want to get married. Have children. Provide for them. But it's not--" he takes a deep breath. "It's clear to me that not all the exiles want that. Seani seems happy, and she never even talks to us anymore. That's... that's her choice. But there are... certain things that need to be done. And it's /better/ that you don't know. Some secrets just can't be kept... no matter what. Do you know what I mean?" "I can't blame Seani for that. Not at all. I hope she finds someone to treat her the way she deserves to be treated." Emme murmurs, taking in a bit of a breath. "I think what you're missing is that a lot of the exiles who don't want that? ... They're the ones who've been treated abominably by the blooded exiles. And why would they want to uphold the traditions that made them nothing more then breeders? Sure, we were all needed to work in order to survive. But..." her voice trails off, slightly. "I'm making a life here because it's better then any life that will be offered me if I were to wholly throw my lot in with those of you who want out of here." she admits then, and quite easily. "Among your blooded men, there are none who would want me for a wife. And the feeling is mutual. I deserve better then that, as do the rest of the exile women. My options, other then marrying into the family, are very slim. So I'm taking every opportunity presented to me. But that still isn't what I'm talking about by turning to me for anything. Because all of -that- is still about helping ALL of the exiles. Don't you ever feel alone here? Want to talk to someone? Just /be/ for awhile? Not have to pretend, or take it all in, or be thinking three steps ahead of everyone?" "I don't blame you for your choice. Or any of the others. I understand the reality of things, here -- now." Devaki lets out a low-voiced chuckle, but there's something dark to it that doesn't quite bring humor to his eyes. He's silent at her last words, running a hand through his hair. Slowly, he confesses, "Sometimes I just need to be alone, to think, yes. But I don't-- I don't see it as a burden, a thing to have to be shared or commiserated over. It just is." "I imagine you do." There doesn't seem to be any inflection to that, though obviously Emme finds little humor in it either. Noooo chuckle from her, that's for sure. "We all handle it differently I guess. When I find ways to be alone it's because I'm overwhelmed. I spend a lot of time here. It's quiet. I'm not hiding. I just can't be surrounded by the rows and rows of people that don't know me. Which, for me, /is/ a burden I guess. I need to be near people to feel... whole. Usually." Her pause is just silence and staring into the fire. "But it has to be people I'm comfortable with. Irony, I guess. But to each their own. So, sure. I understand." There's sympathy in Devaki's expression, and recognition, too, that they handle it each in their own ways. "Well, now that I know where you hide out--" he gestures towards the nighthearth with a grin. "Me, personally? I normally try to avoid here when it's crowded. But I'll make an exception now and then to catch you." He glances away, then back, "I should go. Ev and I are spending some time with our grandfather this evening." "Give Viremi my regards, if you would." Emme requests, returning Dev's grin with a slight smile. "I'll see you." she agrees, lifting a hand to wave when he turns to leave. |
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