Logs:A Blonde, A Brunette, And A Redhead
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| RL Date: 20 February, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Lycinea, Lilah |
| Type: Log |
| What: Fort's Lilah offered to help Lycinea with her shadowing, and Farideh tags along. They end up at Dice. Yay, gambling~ |
| Where: Dice, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snow. |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
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High up above the lake, a small ledge is barely noticeable, and
indeed most pass by it unawares. It's small enough that a green can
comfortably land, perhaps even a blue, but larger dragons would find it
too awkward and small to do so. Just inside, a couple of couple of men are
standing with arms crossed and sharp eyes watching the comings and goings.
The small size of the various rooms that make up the weyr proper has
probably made it unappealing for any to claim as their own - however this
makes it perfect for its new purpose. In each room there's a table and
chairs set up in different configurations - card games here and there,
dice in another room, roulette in yet another. The dealers are dressed in
plain gray outfits, though the security guards that wanders from room to
room (and occasionally come to collect marks) are more casually dressed.
The decor and lighting are dark, intended to make identification of other
patrons more difficult. Without a dragon to bespeak in warning, there is no warning for when Eliyaveith is arriving. But as promised, as light filters into a burst of reds and oranges over High Reaches and its infamous peaks, the dark gold that appears above would be hard to miss. She's larger than any of the native golds, for one, and her color almost appears as a bronze where the color seeps into her hide. It's only as she drops down, ungracefully, into the bowl, nearer to the entrance to the living caverns than farther, that her true color becomes apparent. And the fact that the slim figure on top of her belongs to a female, clad in dark leathers, with hair the color of the sunset around them. It probably took some doing on Lya's part to convince Farideh to wait out the day with her in the lee of the entrance to the living cavern. Really, it was mostly at the tables nearest the door where it's not especially warm, but not so cold. They've checked faithfully though, throughout the day, in turns for the sight of Eliyaveith arriving, and now that she has, the girls come spilling out of the cavern, Lya still pulling on her winter coat, gloves and hat. She raises a hand in greeting to the goldrider as she draws closer. Being a good friend is hard, but Farideh's perseveres and waits, lingering with her over-sized jacket on over a simple sweater and trouser combination, with her worn-out boots. Her hair has been left to curl haphazardly around her shoulders under a warm knit cap, and noticeably missing - if Lya takes notes of those things - is her ever-present scarf. Rosy cheeks dimples when she smiles, pointing to the goldrider when she arrives, even if Lycinea already sees her. She's on the blonde's heels, letting her lead, since it is her trip, not the laundress'. The goldrider does not smile in turn, though dark eyes rake over the extra young woman as she appears from where Lilah perches on top of Eliyaveith. The gold, certainly, is much more social than her rider as she snakes out to huff a warm breath over first Lycinea and then Farideh, crooning a sound that is oddly maternal for such a large creature. Then she is crouching down, making herself smaller as Lilah leans down to offer a hand to whoever manages to get up first. Perhaps the gold's friendliness shouldn't cause a girl who's grown up in the Weyr to stumble backward, perhaps even into her friend with a quiet surprised swear under her breath. Even if Eliyaveith's head doesn't get close, it's more proximity than she's used to certainly. After she's righted herself, she's moving to climb up to take the weyrwoman's offered hand. "That's my friend, Farideh. Can she come along?" It might be rude to invite extras on Lilah's act of charity, but then if Lilah dumps Lya in the middle of nowhere she'll have someone to help sort out what to do from there. The brunette comes to a stop, becoming stiff when her friend stumbles backwards into her, and doesn't push her forward like she, presumably, should. Moving only when Lycinea does, Farideh keeps her eyes on the gold and a frozen smile on her face; it's better to look amiable, anyway. She stands by and watches the other girl get a hand up first, and waits patiently, quietly, for the goldrider to give consent or refusal. "I would have said if she couldn't," assures Lilah dryly, helping (dragging) Lycinea the rest of the steeper part of the gold, without the natural curves of limbs there to help, and abandoning her to settle behind her before offering her hand down to Farideh as well. "You've ridden before, I assume?" is directed down towards the brunette rather than Lya. "Don't mind her; she is just curious. She says you smell like fresh laundry." "Great!" Lya answers with unnatural cheer, slipping into the straps so that Farideh can end up between them. She busies herself with the buckles. It takes her longer than it would a practiced rider, but she knows what to do well enough. "I've ridden," is Farideh's cautious answer, but she accepts the hand up and slips in between the two other women. "I'm a laundress." That must be why she smells like laundry, of course. Any former connection she might have with Lilah, anything she remembers from a certain day at Igen Hold, she certainly doesn't mention as she settles into the straps. A noise that sounds an awful lot like triumph catches in Eliyaveith's throat for Farideh's answer, punctuating the silence that follows as the young women settle in. Lilah only nods, and then muscles bunch underneath them as the dragon pushes herself and her load off from the ground. She is not a graceful flier, not as wings beat the air to get her bulk aloft, but eventually they are far enough above the bowl that they disappear Between, without even a word of warning. (Rude.) In life, there are bad fliers. Perhaps Lilah can appreciate that Lycinea placed herself as far away from the goldrider as possible, and planned ahead. It doesn't save Farideh from hearing the sounds of airsickness from her friend, but the oil-skin sack saves her (and Eliyaveith) from wearing anything untoward. By the time they're dismounting, Lya looks pale, but the sack has been tied off and tucked away. Out of sight, out of mind, but still the blonde's look is apologetic. In life, there are bad fliers. Perhaps Lilah can appreciate that Lycinea placed herself as far away from the goldrider as possible, and planned ahead. It doesn't save Farideh from hearing the sounds of airsickness from her friend, but the oil-skin sack saves her (and Eliyaveith) from wearing anything untoward. Initially, being forward and not back, makes Farideh oblivious to the retching behind her, but the pungent scent eventually reaches her nose and causes her to stiffen. "You did not, Lya," the brunette growls, arching her back away from the blonde, leaning towards Lilah with her face twisted in distaste. Get her off this dragon now. It is the retching, really, that has Lilah unstrapping herself quickly and making the little hop dismount from her dragon to the too-small ledge of Dice. Much like a moored boat, Eliyaveith keeps herself aloft next to the ledge, only a half foot length between her and the edge, though at least the distance down is not nearly as much as the distance up was. The redhead turns as soon as she is on solid ground, her nose wrinkled slightly as she glances at Lycinea. "I'll find you a rider to take you home, if you're not feeling well," she offers, a hint of question there. Lycinea might look pale when she arrives on the ledge (not just from the air sickness, but also the jumping off a dragon even if it's over only a small space), but she manages the little jump with only a stumble when it's over, having over-judged how much push she'd need to make it. Thankfully, she doesn't fall and do anything gross like crush her nearly ever-present shoulder satchel that the bag of gross has been tucked away into for the time being. "No, I'm fine," she manages to say to the goldrider, even as she digs into her bag and produces a couple of green leaves to pop into her mouth. Minty fresh! "Sorry, I don't fly well. It's usually not a problem just up to the ledge, and I can usually manage to not until I'm back on the ground, but..." They got unlucky. This probably explains why Lya hasn't eaten virtually at all today (which surely bodes well for the pallor of her skin and so on). Less enthusiastic than before, and much less amused, Farideh gets down and sighs heavily, slanting Lycinea a disapproving glance. "I'm glad you didn't in my hair. Don't the healers have something you can take to make you-- not?" She looks from the blonde to the redhead questioningly; maybe Lilah knows! "What is this place?" she queries at last, taking tentative steps towards the entrance of the repurposed weyr. "They helped one of our weyrlings that went through the same, but I imagine for someone who is an infrequent flyer, it wouldn't matter," Lilah answers, all-knowingly, as her shoulder draws up in a dismissive shrug. Though she does cast one more look of concern to Lycinea (and Eliyaveith croons a comforting noise to the blonde before she pushes away from the ledge to land on one much closer to the bowl, a junior ledge there), she only answers the next question with a light, "You'll see," thrown over her shoulder. Instead, she is walking into that weyr, which proves rather small on the inside: large enough for a green and her rider, certainly. But that isn't the purpose that it is used for. Tables array the interior, which talk and laughter and the sound of clay chips hitting clay chips. "It doesn't help me," Lya tells her brunette companion shortly, meaning whatever the healers have given her. It's just good for some poor dragon that Lya is not a rider. She gives Lilah an almost apologetic glance for the brief flare of temper. "Maybe Fort's healers are better. I've tried a few different things that are 'supposed to work.' But I'm not a rider, I'm not standing, I just have to get from here to there. And I didn't get it in your hair." Or anywhere else of importance. She give Farideh a look before looking back to Lilah and following along into the place, stepping closer to Farideh as she goes. New places. People. At least there's rock overhead, so that's something comforting! There's an overdramatic roll of her eyes towards the sky, her mouth falling open in mock-annoyance, before she sets off to follow the pair with slumped shoulders. It's when she's inside, and can see the various tables arrayed with people and chips, that her eyes widen as they soak up everything around them. "Is it-- it's-- gambling? Outside of Bitra?" her tone is clearly incredulous. What she doesn't say is inside a Weyr, but the implication is there. "You're going to learn how to deal cards?" is the question Farideh poses to Lycinea, with more disapproval coloring her voice. That question, posed to Lycinea, gets a dry response from the goldrider who shifts to level a look on Farideh, "It is what I did, before I Impressed. Dealt cards, was a drudge before that. Is there something wrong with that?" If she is offended by the implication made, it doesn't show in Lilah's study of the laundress, only a brow curving upwards. But, then her attention slides to Lycinea and there is some lightness that is buried in the way she suggests, "You don't have to learn; you just seemed the type that would be interested." There is a wave of fingers in gesture to a grey-uniformed young man, and in a few moments, he comes back with three carefully balanced glasses. "I don't know," Lycinea looks back at Farideh, "Am I?" To Lilah, with a quick correction of, "Are we?" She shoots Farideh a stubborn look. Just because Lilah's already answering the question doesn't keep her from asking it. Lya does nod, defiant of her friend's protestation, "Yes, let's try it." She looks to Farideh, "It'll be good for you. Maybe you can impress that sailor or his murderous friend," which is rather a different opinion of Itsy than last she professed. "Thank you for this opportunity," she then says to Lilah rather formally, though perhaps formal is the only way Lya knows to be polite. "That's not a reliable or upstanding profession, no," the laundress replies sourly, crossing her arms defensively over her chest, and assuming that haughty stance she's so good at. "Gambling dens are for delinquents and debauchers and thieves--" She cuts herself short, biting down hard on her lip, and refuses to meet either of their gazes, turning instead to inspect the nearest table with repugnance. "I don't need to try anything. I'll just watch, as we are much more likely to get murdered here than by a pair of sailors." There will be no thanks forthcoming from Farideh, or even anymore words, for the now, as she settles into her sulky attitude. "And yet, now I am a weyrwoman," Lilah replies, amusement dry on the edges of her words as she takes a glass of wine and offers it to Farideh, first, despite her sulkiness. If she doesn't take it, the goldrider takes a sip herself before offering another glass to Lya. If she does-- well, then Lilah doesn't take any sips, but she still offers a second glass to Lya. "Watch your back, then. Lya--." She gestures the young woman over with her towards a card table, and the dealer there finishes up the hand and places the cards down on the table for the weyrwoman to pick up as she takes up the abandoned post. "Do you know how to play?" "And sailors," Lya answers Farideh's words, with a roll of her eyes. "And I doubt it. None of these people told me they would kill me and meant it." She sniffs. Then she turns her attention to Lilah, shaking her head to politely decline the wine. "I know." She flashes a smile back to Farideh as she says, "I fleeced H'vier once, before he realized." Proud of that, yes she is! Any unkind words the brunette wants to say - and from her unfriendly smile there are plenty - she holds onto, for now, and tosses her head, rejecting the glass that's offered. When they make for a table, Farideh follows at a slower pace, her arms still tucked up against her chest, and her eyebrows lowered ominously. She's mad and she's going to let them know it; aka pouting. The glasses end up disappearing; dispersed to other customers. Even Lilah's sipped from one is forgotten as she seamlessly zips the cards together, almost a perfectly even shuffle. She does it again, even as she says, "Well, dealing is a lot easier than that, though I've never played against him, so. It's all muscle memory and practice. Sometimes we help out a player with a suggestion or two, but--." The weyrwoman looks up, leveling an honest to goodness smile on one of the men across the table, crooked and light. "K'as, have you met Lya? I don't imagine you have; she's from High Reaches. And no, she doesn't like bronzeriders." His wingmates beside him laugh and jeer, and K'as starts to try to protest, but ends up hanging his head in mock-shame. A glance flits, briefly, towards Farideh from the goldrider during this, a subtle thing. "He's decent, really," Lya will admit of H'vier. "I don't know that I could've won so many marks from him if he'd thought I knew how to play at all." She flashes a smile to Lilah before all the business of bronzeriders and K'as and-- K'as gets a look that dares him to even try it (and promises painful retribution if he dares) all at once. "I suppose with this job you have to tolerate people?" She eyes the table full of players as if they might not merit that kind of patience from her. Not the way Farideh does. Farideh who gets an imploring glance, stop pouting, plz. Everything Farideh lays her eyes on seems to displease her, and when Lycinea sends her that imploring look, her smile is tighten and unbending. Even the flitted glance from the bronzerider earns a bit of a frown. "Aren't you afraid you're contributing to the bad habits of your riders?" she asks of the goldrider, though her eyes rest, for now, on K'as and his wingmates. Lya's look only sends K'as's wingmates into another round of laughter, one slapping his back and offering loud encouragement of "I think she likes you!" Lilah only smiles at Farideh's question, replying smoothly, "You mean this group of thieves and delinquents? I think if they're going to waste their marks somewhere, they may as well give them back to the Weyr." That last is said teasingly, yet, there is a buried truth there as she finally starts dealing. Then, it is time to teach Lycinea what she needs to know. First and foremost: "Only in as much as you can't kick them out. Or stab them." "Ew," Lya offers emphatically to the wingmate. She looks to Lilah, "Well, I like the cards." She casts a disgusted look toward the wingriders. They are another story. "I might prefer it if I was allowed to stab them," she glowers, but her bark is certainly worse than her bite. She ignores the riders pointedly and focuses on Lilah's hands and the cards. She even ignores Farideh, for now, in favor of attention on the goldrider. "They shouldn't waste them at all," Farideh mutters, taking a step closer to the table, but not in an interested way, in the distrustful-of-everyone-else way. She retains her silence after, standing nearby without disturbing anything, but keeps up her frown and dissatisfied stare. They can practice all they want, talk all they want, drink all they want; she'll just be there, watching creepily in the background. Afterwards, another dragonrider is conscripted by Lilah into returning them home to High Reaches. The end! |
Comments
Azaylia (02:00, 21 February 2015 (EST)) said...
No... one... POUTS like Gaston no one sulks like Gaston! Except for maybe Farideh. <3 May her lower lip never be pulled back in. xD Also I love that Lya gets dragon-sick. Like, as an extra layer to the character.
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