Logs:Pretty
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 18 July, 2011 |
| Who: W'chek, Z'vez |
| Type: Log |
| What: Z'vez tries to help. |
| Where: Kitchens, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 4, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
| It's around suppertime, and whatever happened in the Snowasis, W'chek hasn't yet done anything about it. Instead, now, he's holed up in an alcove in the kitchen with a tall glass of milk with some kind of fruit puree in it. Really not unappetizing, but the fact that he's death-pale and about ten pounds slimmer than he was a week ago wouldn't look healthy to begin with, and the fact that one side of his face is a mass of bruises doesn't help. In general, as they serve up dinner out in the main cavern, everybody's giving him a wide berth. Never one to follow the crowd and conform to the majority, Z'vez is taking his meal in the kitchen. It could also have something to do with the fact there's a girl on staff that seems to have made him something that isn't being served in the main cavern. "Too kind to me, gorgeous," he assures her and the answer he's given is something along the lines of rolled eyes and, 'Trust me, I know.' Once he has his food, he needs somewhere to sit. Though he didn't seem to take much notice of W'chek when he came in, there's no doubt the way he moves toward that alcove is purposeful. He sits across from the bronzerider with a, "Hey," and pulls out a flask from his pocket before loading up a forkful of food. Evidently not comfortable even looking up, most of the time, the movement of someone actually sitting down in his particular alcove does finally get W'chek's attention. Not a great sign for sociability that he actually flinches away from the greeting before he finally looks up enough to figure out that it's a stranger, there. "Hey." Which sounds like it's spoken through a mouthful, but not, although he doesn't at any point actually part his lips enough to catch sight of the wires. The bruises might be enough to deduce it, though. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." "I know," says Z'vez. And it sounds like he does. Know, that is. He doesn't get up to go find somewhere else to sit, though. "Think you've been alone plenty, lately. And it doesn't look like you've had the best judgment in who you have been hanging around when you haven't been." The brownrider looks at W'chek, particularly those bruises, then gives a small shake of his head. He doesn't say anything else as he takes a bite of his specially prepared meal and he even drops his gaze down to look at his food instead of continuing to looking at the other man. "S'fine." Although W'chek does bring a hand up to lay his fingers on that bruised spot for just a moment before they move back to wrap around his glass. He has another sip from it, but at this point it looks like he's barely touched it and he's not going to make much progress that way. "Just gotta live with it for a little while. Old friend. He was upset." As though W'chek himself was not upset, has never been upset in his life. "Why're you eating in here?" So he's not so distant as to be completely incurious, anyway. "Sure, sure." Z'vez isn't going to try to argue that point. For one, he wasn't there. Two? Well, people are prone to doing dumb things when they're hurting. "Not so busy," is his response. "And I don't get so many questions for special treatment. Don't get real fish up here nearly as often as we should. Fancies herself a proper cook," he notes with a gesture of his head back toward the girl that prepared his meal and a brief grin. "Anyway, you're here." Like it was planned. "And you're--what, trying to get her into bed?" Even under the circumstances, W'chek can manage to sound completely disapproving of that notion. "I'm not in any position to eat out there. And I can't have solids." He raises his glass as though in a toast, then lets out a long sigh before he drinks from his straw again and sets it down. "Not really all that hungry." That last is even more of a mumble than everything else. "What?" Z'vez sounds surprised by the question but probably not enough. "No, no. Of course not." Small shake of his head for emphasis, though he doesn't explain their arrangement further. Instead he focuses on that glass for a moment with a sympathetic grimace. "Bet not. Doesn't mean you shouldn't eat, though. So... it's good." That he's trying at least, evidently. Z'vez gathers up another hearty bite of deliciously flaky fish and sweet peppers and asks before he puts it in his mouth, "So, how are you doing?" With a bit of neck craning, W'chek goes to look at Z'vez' special cook, and then finally just rolls his eyes and goes back to his drink with a sort of resignation. Plus, it keeps him from having to say anything for a minute or so as he works on sucking down as much of it as he can tolerate. Finally, he pushes it away. There is a bit of an envious look for the contents of Z'vez' plate. More than envy, maybe. The look of someone who expects never to have such a thing again. "Me? Fine. Just fine." "I'd offer you a bite if you could eat it," says Z'vez, not oblivious to that look. "She's really quite talented. When you can move your face again, maybe, eh?" Yup, it's decided. Between one bite and the next, he takes a drink from his flask and gives W'chek an unconvinced look. "Don't bullshit me, kid. You're about as fine as you are pretty." Which is to say, not very. Especially not right now with those bruises. "But, hey, that's fine." The brownrider shrugs and his fork is clicking against his plate again. "If, if." W'chek manages a sort of wan, closed-mouth smile. "The day the wires come off. Hold you to it." Easy to do, if he expects that day never to actually arrive, of course. Still, despite that, there's some sort of ingrained politeness that dictates he doesn't just completely blow off the man sitting across from him. So he's really attempting to hold up a bit of conversation. "I'm as well as can be expected. There are no good days." A beat. "Wasn't pretty to begin with. Didn't lose much." "Sure you'll forget," counters Z'vez with a smile of his own, though it fades after a few moments, all without looking back up so he can gather the last of his meal into a bite. "Now that sounds more likely," he says before taking his last bite and he looks up to consider the bronzerider while he chews, then swallows. "Maybe not pretty, no. Far from ugly, though. And those bruises are all manner of ugly. You do know you're allowed to duck, right?" So, Z'vez has been through all his food, and W'chek has managed about a quarter of what's in his glass, in that time. "Didn't have time." Well, okay, maybe that's not completely true, but it's a convenient excuse. And, hey, Z'vez wasn't there. "Be fine. Only gotta worry about it a little while." Which seems to silence him. He takes the glass back in his hands, and has another drink, and closes his eyes for a few moments as though this process requires a great deal of focus. At least Z'vez wasn't dawdling about finishing off his plate or anything. But now that it's gone, he still doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry to get up and leave W'chek alone. "The wire?" he asks to clarify, though something in his expression hints at concerned suspicion as he watches the bronzerider. "You know," he starts without actually leaving much time for an answer, "If you want to talk about... it. Sometime. With someone that," he pauses, uncertain of his words, "Understands." There's another pause before he adds with a sympathetic earnestness, "Any time." "Sure. The wire." W'chek sounds about as committed to that answer as he is to running out and joining a parade. Then he finally opens his eyes to look back at Z'vez again, and they're just... flat. Not really anything there. "I appreciate the sentiment. But you don't understand. Nobody understands." He says all that very slowly, like this is something he's rehearsed time and time again, in his head if not aloud, and he's not going to allow his voice to waver for anything. That first makes Z'vez frown but he lets W'chek continue without interruption. And his frown turns into something just a little bit less sympathetic. Something a little... angry? Frustrated? His eyes are anything but flat, at the very least. "I," a moment to consider, or to make sure he doesn't say anything he might regret, "would love a world where /you/ were the only person on Pern that has ever lost someone, W'chek. More than I can tell you. I wish you were the only person that has ever felt and would ever feel what you're feeling. But the world is not that kind." "They hate me." It takes no time at all for W'chek to say that much, but a little longer for him to collect his thoughts to go on, as he shrinks down in his seat as though he might just disappear into it. "They loved him, and it doesn't matter that I loved him, too, they hate me." He swallows after getting that much out and takes a drink. "Sorry. Can't do this. I gotta go." And he's pushing up out of his seat, then, to get away, as much from the words as from the man across the table. Z'vez lets the younger man speak but when W'chek moves to get up, he's there, too. The brownrider reaches to catch the other by the arm before he can actually run away and he's quick to say, "Not everyone loved him. And not everyone hates you. 'They' don't matter. Ever." Whatever hold he'd been trying to keep on the bronzerider lightens then so he can, in fact, run off at will now. He seems to want to say more. Probably something along the 'don't do anything stupid' vein. But he doesn't actually put voice to the words. When his arm is caught, that does stop W'chek for a moment, but only long enough to grimace at all of that. "Let go of me. You don't know me." Since he can in fact yank his arm back away now, he does just that, before heading off at almost a run for the lower caverns. Z'vez only watches W'chek go for a moment or two, jaw clenching as he turns back to the table where they'd been sitting. He doesn't do anything but stare at it for several minutes, then he lifts a hand to rub over his face in frustration before finally leaning to pick up the dishes to take them somewhere more appropriate. So maybe it didn't go very well. But he seems to have said what he wanted to say. For now, at least. |
Leave A Comment