Logs:Murder Plots and Such
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| RL Date: 7 February, 2015 |
| Who: Drex, Lycinea |
| Type: Log |
| What: Curiosity doesn't kill this cat, not even for just for kicks. |
| Where: Random Tunnel and Drex's(?) Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 13, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Giorda/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions |
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>---< Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr (TP Room - HRW) >---------------------< There are many twisty, turny tunnels throughout High Reaches Weyr. And this just happens to be one of them. It branches off from one of the main ones, taking you away from the resident dorms and private rooms. Here and there are some storage closets, but the hall is mostly bare. It's devoid of decoration and seems to otherwise just take a windy path towards the main caverns. Over the turns, Lya has cultivated a talent for making truly mundane tasks take much longer than is reasonable. She clearly has imagination. Taking this winding tunnel on her way from one place to somewhere else entirely is just one way that she's managing to stretch today's task into taking that much longer. Over her shoulder is slung a fairly light looking sack, and in her hand a stick with a metal point on it that is either for litter or tunnelsnakes or both. Now and again, when she comes to a long stretch of tunnel, a grey and white kitten might be seen trailing her. As she passes by one of the cross tunnels, she might well hear an odd noise echoing from within. It's like a... whick, whick, whick beating a regular rhythm, before dropping into an irregular whick, beat, whick moments later. A world without curiosity would be no fun at all. Lycinea initially passes the particular cross-tunnel, but after a trio of paces when she realizes the noise is dwindling not growing. She backs up and turns at the tunnel, her movements in following the sound lacking the caution that even her kitten might have in investigating something unknown. The glows are dim, almost nonexistent here, as if whoever last changed them didn't bother with such an obviously under used tunnel. It twists back on itself, once, twice, and then opens out -- brightens -- into a small room. It looks like, once, it might've been used as some sort of storage area, with boxes and such everywhere, but likely abandoned for being too far away to be practical. Perched at the very top of one of those stack of boxes, Drex is the king of the room (even with his still bruised visage), knees splayed, a knife making quick motions against the wood in his hands. Whickwhickwhick, the shavings dropping all over the lower boxes and spilling onto the floor. Darkness slows Lya's progress only enough to be practical and not trip and twist an ankle, it allows the kitten to catch up and when the girl pauses where the tunnel opens into the room, the kitten minces forward on soft paws, stretching and looking at the king. The blonde is silent for a moment, taking it all in, and then, "Yeah, I can see it. If we move some of these boxes around to make more room. Do they have anything good in them?" That's worth the effort to reappropriate, she probably means. The kitten's arrival is not noticed; the girl's is. The narrow-eyed look from the sailor likely has more to do with being interrupted than any recognition of her, however. "This is my room," he says, like it should be somehow obvious, emphasizing it with the wave of his knife towards... somewhere else. "Go and do your pink-laced tea parties somewhere else." "Ew," Lycinea makes the appropriate face to go along with the word. "Just, no." That's all there is to say about that as she moves to lean on the wall, not actually entering the room herself. "I thought you wanted to put together kitten versus tunnelsnake fights. And if you're going to organize it, we," we, "might as well use your room." She's making perfect sense, he's the one talking about crazy things like pink-laced tea parties. "Eh?" a grunt of confusion comes from the sailor, squinting at Lycinea. Of course, the squinting hurts, judging by the pained grimace and exhale of breath that follows, and he looks back down at his work-in-progress. "Aint noone using this room for anything but me." "Right, you, for your fights that you suggested when Tomic had the box of kittens." Clearly, it's not her trying to use his room for something, no no. Lya cants her head to the side, "Unless you're using it to hide dead bodies." A foot shifts as though to move forward into the room. "Farideh says you said you're a murderer. Are you?" So casually, and even cheerfully queried. Drex's who? is clearly plastered on his expression at the mention of Tomic as clearly as the way he dismisses it. There's a lift-and-release of his shoulder in a single motion, a sudden grin appearing in conjunction with a brightening of gaze. Thudding one of the boxes that comprises his throne with his booted foot, he says, "I could be, but if I told you then you'd have to stay here." There's a snort, perhaps for the mention of Farideh, or the girl's question. "Apparently I'm in good company. They say there's a lot of murderers here." "There are, and that's what I told Farideh when she got so upset about it," which is almost certainly something friends aren't supposed to tell other friends' enemies. "You know," Lya begins thoughtfully, taking a step into his room, "We could play a trick on Farideh." This is also something friends aren't supposed to do. "Just for fun," it's suggested quite innocently. "We could let her think you killed me. I'm doing this thing with Giorda's permission so if I'm gone for a couple days, it won't bother anything." Such convenient timing. The sailor's eyes narrow as she dares to take a step into his domain, and Drex stands. With his height, and already being on the boxes, he looks tall. He gestures with the knife, "We could. Or we could do it for real." Except, with a snort as he eyes her up and down, "You haven't even got anything worth taking." No murder for you! "Nope, not a thing in the world. Except some sock puppets, but those are back in my room. And people probably wouldn't even care if you murdered me for real, except for Farideh, and when you can get the same kind of reaction without bothering with the whole messy murder business, it's probably best to skip it, don't you think?" Lya's smile presses her lips together, "And if we only let her worry for a couple days, she probably won't tell anyone and you won't even get in trouble for it. Except with her." That hardly counts, right? With a flick of the hand with the knife in it, Drex sinks back down onto the boxes. "Can't see as there's much in this deal for me. She'll just yell at me and throw things at me." He's looking at her over the knife, as if waiting to see whether she'll come up with another offer. "Is that really so different from usual?" Lya asks, but there's a shrug, dismissing the idea. "How else are you going to keep yourself entertained until your ship is ready? More of that?" She gestures at the source or the original sound. With a sudden, fierce grin, Drex's "I'll think o' something," is accompanied by another wave of the knife in Lycinea's general direction. The gesture is misunderstood, though whether deliberately or not is hard to tell: "Don't make it a habit of getting punched in the face, but asshole riders abound here." Another step is taken into the room, and another. The girl is moving as though she's stalking some prey (very poorly), and indeed, it's the kitten she's after. "Which one did that to you?" Lya asks distractedly. "Do they know how to use knives?" It might be a good thing to know if he does accidentally make a habit of it. And now, Drex's gaze tracks Lycinea's progress, warily. With a brief shrug, he answers her: "We didn't exactly exchange life stories 'fore he introduced his fist to my face." There's a hint of confusion at the latter, though. "Who, riders? Fucked if I know. This one tried, but," he pats his hip, where a second belt knife rests, looking pleased with himself. "Farideh says you can't pull a knife on a rider." The weight of his gaze suggests he's curious to know whether she agrees with that sentiment. "Well, sure, you can," Lycinea answers as if that's common knowledge, "It's just that it's not the dragon's fault if their rider is being an idiot of the worst kind, so it's sort of unfair. It's like... If I killed you and then Itsy just because she happens to be your partner." She says it offhandedly, as if she's not suggesting Drex is an idiot. Perhaps she isn't. "And I didn't want to know his life story, just his name." 'Name' gets emphasis because that's when she lunges toward the cat and ends up stumbling into a low pile of crates, hands coming away empty. "Are riders taught to introduce themselves before they punch you in the face?" Drex wonders, "Because he didn't. Just started yelling like a... a crazy fuckin' rider." It's not that he disbelieves Lycinea, it's more like... the sailor doesn't look all that convinced at the girl's explanation. "Itsy would avenge me, so she might die," with a shrug, like that's not unusual. Her lunge and miss at the kitten earns a low guffaw of laughter from the king of the crates. His guffaw doesn't seem to bother her much, and the shrug of her shoulders might as well encompass that as well as: "With the frequency with which they seem to do it, you'd think it should be a core part of weyrling training." That makes her laugh. "I don't see why Farideh dislikes you so much, you seem fine to me," it's a passing comment without much behind it, but then does she really have a lot to go on? "I think some dragons would like it if they had the opportunity to avenge their rider, but that's just not the way it works for them. Rider goes, dragon goes. It's never been any different that I've heard tell of." Her next lunge finds success in hooking fingers around the none-too-pleased ball of fur who gives a yowl of protest as the girl hauls its struggling frame into her arms, stick now clutched awkwardly there too, and against her chest, tilting her head away as it tries to find some purchase with its claws. "Enjoy your room," is offered on her way out. "She dislikes me cos her kitten likes me better," is Drex's opinion, made with a laugh and accompanied by another whick, whick as his knife flicks against the wood he's holding, resuming what he was doing before Lycinea appeared. |
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