Logs:The Girls are Back
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| RL Date: 10 April, 2011 |
| Who: Suireh, Riahla |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Suireh and Riahla have a sisterly moment. |
| Where: Anvori's Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
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| Tranquility is possibly something Anvori has had very little of since the return of his two charges, which might explain why the twins' uncle has begun spending more time in the Snowasis' back office than at home. Tranquility is possibly something two thirteen turn olds are incapable of -- in spite of the fact that Suireh, for the most part, seems to favor sitting on the love seat as she is now, with her head in a book, or as today's case might be, a bound set of sheet music. Her slender fingers trill in the air, as if playing a violin, and those dark lashes of hers darts to-and-fro down the stanzas. Only the charitable would call what Riahla does sitting; the honest would say it's the sort of graceless sprawling that would have her mother rolling over in the grave. Providing her mother had an actual grave. Anyway. Moving on. Riahla sprawls, and fidgets, and pokes through Anvori's stuff, and sends a lot of sideway through-the-lashes looks at her twin. Finally, she declares, "Wouldn't have come back if I had known /this/ was all you were going to want to do." Entranced by her little black lines with their matching little black circles, a secret language only for her that Riahla can't seem to crack, Suireh allows her fingers to continue drifting in their various little air trills and exercises before giving her sister's complaint some sign of recognition, "Hmm?" As distracted as it sounds, there's a touch of a teasing giggle somewhere hidden in that short syllable, and shortly hence, the dark haired girl lifts her eyes from the pages to spare the other teenager a quick smile. Deliberately, in movements that would likely make their mother proud, the hides are set down, and not so deliberately, in a burst of her age showing through, the skinny girl flops along the entire length of the couch, so she might fall all on top of Riahla, head first into the other girl's lap. "Happy now?" Muffled. "No," Riahla says at once, stubbornly; but nevermind that because when Suireh stretches out, the blonde one swings her legs up too so she can lean back into the corner of the couch and make a more comfortable cushion of her skinny frame. "What're you working on /now/, anyway? Don't you ever stop?" "I'll stop for now," responds Suireh, entreaty thick in her voice as she lifts her head to peer up at her sister. Please don't be mad. Please don't shut her out. See, she'll even plead with her pretty gray eyes made all round and sad. "You didn't have to come home," Home. This is home. "Father never seems to mind when /you're/ around. Well," the teen concedes with the wryest of smiles she's capable of, "Whenever he's even around to pay attention that is." And she'll even slyly note, if only to gain a reaction if not a favorable one, "Gossip says you left a lot of sad, bewildered little boys back at Monaco?" Riahla tries, oh how she tries, for a certain lofty tone in answering that question. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, looking up to the ceiling, head tilted against the armrest. "And anyway, I heard all /you/ left at the hall was a bunch of catty girls," so there. "Of course I had to come home." That's just matter-of-fact. It hits her where it hurts, that barb, and Suireh withdraws, lifting herself off her sister's lap fluidly and curled up into her own corner once again. A hand reaches, as if to grasp her hides once more and then pauses before retracting that motion. Instead, she remarks all too nonchalantly to not be wounded, "Catty girls don't like kissing in dark closets as much as sad little boys." Apparently she learned lessons from catty girls. It doesn't take twin telepathy to know that was a low blow, and the guilt is written plain on Riahla's expressive face for all she's not about to actually say she's sorry. Instead, she offers an apologetic tease in return, "What, didn't know you went that way. Never tried kissing those girls myself, so I'll take your word for it." She tries a smile, and pulls her feet up crossways on the couch as she looks back at Suireh. She smiles, the curvature of her lips finding her knees and the sidelong glance to a smiling Riahla showing no lasting damage has been done, to either Suireh's emotions or to their relationship. As if. "I fell into that one." A pause. "Dug my own gra- hole and fell right in." She doesn't even skip a beat when replacing a poor word choice for another. Softly spoken, "If you had come to Harper too-," trails off in resignation, as if an old argument might rear its ugly head. "Just, I would have thought you'd have let me know earlier," Riahla contains, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smirk. "A letter at least. 'Dear Riahla, have gone back to the Reaches because I am in love with a thuggish butch brownrider. Love, Suireh.'" And her stifled giggle turns into an undignified snort that has her clapping a hand over her mouth--at least, until that last. "Yeah, and do what?" she scoffs, albeit goodnaturedly. "Sing," persists the younger of the two girls. By five minutes, but who on Pern really counts that? "You can sing, you know you can." The love of family might forgive many sins, including that of blindness, or selective deafness. Riahla just snorts at that again, although at least on purpose this time. "Whatever. Nothing they'd like, that's for sure," she says, shaking her head. "Besides, Monaco was--it was nice. You should've gone down there with me instead." Suireh, having forgiven her sister ages ago if she'd even been truly upset at all, sidles up to Riahla and gives her a gentle, one-armed hug. The look she favors the blonde teen is one often used: 'we both know we're both being silly.' "We should wash up. Uncle said he'd be bringing home /company/ for dinner tonight." The emphasis, the tease. Everyone knows who 'company' means and with an impishness alit about her grin, the lanky teen gets to her feet and holds out her hand for her sister. "Oh, Faranth," sighs Riahla, with a roll of her eyes as she takes Suireh's hand and hauls herself to her feet. Her arm then goes almost automatically around Suireh's shoulders, a companionable lean as she starts for the door. "I am so eating in the living cavern. You with me?" Suireh's thin face fashions smug around the smirk her lips press into. It's this funny little change that occurs as soon as they're headed to the door, shifting her from teen to pseudo-regal. Maybe it's that chin lift. Maybe that chin lift is genetic. "We can see of Edessa and Blakeley are around." Cronies, minions, whatever. If it's genetic, Riahla doesn't seem to have inherited it, because she's casual to her sister's regal. "Edessa, really?" She sniffs a moment, then caves. "Fine, but I want to find Davine, too. Then we can have the whole gang back, just like before." |
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