Logs:What Friends Do
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 20 February, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, X'vae |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Now that X'vae's back from Monaco, he and Farideh play catchup. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions |
  |
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life. X'vae looks cozy. His heather gray sweater is worn but well cared-for, as are his khaki trousers with reinforced leather over the knees. He's settled in one of the armchairs close to the hearth, his blonde hair already starting to dry. His ankle rests on the opposite knee, creating a place for the book he's looking at to sit while he takes notes in a smaller one balanced on the armrest of the chair. His blue gaze is focused, expression attentive. Obviously, whatever he's studying, it doesn't seem to be a chore. Into this picture-perfect scene of relaxation and manly pursuits, comes a stomping, frustrated laundress with wild brown curls spilling over her shoulders. "Stupid, stupid, stupid--" Farideh mutters as she marches into the bubble cavern, pausing by the hearth to glare at the flames; obviously they're burning a little too brightly, to spite her. Her sigh is laborious, and followed by a sharp glance behind, to the seats, where X'vae is reposing. Dousing a fire in water would be as effective, all of her rage crumbling beneath recognition. "X'vae," she says, sounding surprised. If X'vae sunk down a little in his chair when Farideh stomped into range, can he really be blamed? At least once she says his name he doesn't do anything stupid like pretend he didn't hear her. He even musters a convincingly warm smile, "Hey Farideh," it's friendly, "Long time," and he gestures inviting the stomper to take a break from all that heavy foot use by claiming the chair and footstool beside him. He even readies to close his books so he can give her his attention. "Hey," the laundress says, sitting down in the chair next to his. "It has. Where have you been?" It's not an accusing tone, but it is genuinely curious. "And how have you been?" Farideh wiggles her way into the seat until her back is touching the chair's back, and rests her hands on the arms of the chair, turning her face so she can give the bluerider her full attention. It's as if her actions before never happened, that's how sedate she is now. "Monaco," X'vae volunteers readily as he closes his books and leans forward to tuck them into a satchel leaning against the foot of his chair. Farideh can have his undivided attention as well, it seems. "My, ah, my mother was sick." He tells her as he works the books carefully into the bag. "But she's all better now." He assures as he sits back up and settles back into the chair. "They gave me leave to go be with her, to help my sister. Just took longer than any of us had hoped." But what's that when compared with an ultimately happy end to his story? "But I'm back now. No one's getting sick at home," no one, "so I'll be here from now on. Again." Then he leans a little toward the laundress, propping chin on hand as his elbow rests against the arm nearer her. "How have you been these past months?" "That's unfortunate, but I'm glad she's better." For a moment, Farideh looks sad on his behalf, but it's replaced by a bright smile. "It must be tragic to go from the sun and the beach, to all this snow. It's so bleak and gray," she pouts, and waves her hand in a dismissive way, upwards, towards the sky and the heavy, snow clouds they can't see. "I've been fine. The laundry always is as the laundry always is, gossiping about everything and everyone. Nothing new-- aside from what happened at High Reaches Hold. That isn't new news, anymore." "Ah, but there's sledding and skiing and snowboarding and ice skating," X'vae counters with a grin. "The beach is still there. Only a jump away," the winter won't wreck his spirits. After all, he chose 'Reaches. There must be a reason! He might ask after her pout, only, his brow is wrinkling in answer to her fineness. "Well, I'm sure I haven't heard everything," even if he does live with Z'riah, "Want to tell me all about it? And whatever else I've missed? I feel like my head's been tucked in the sand for all that I've been paying attention to down in Monaco." Sick mothers are very mind-consuming! There's a lot of necessary worrying to be done and all that. "I learned how to sled," Farideh says proudly. "We should go sometime, but don't expect me to ice skate. I don't want to make a fool of myself," with a censuring look, that's mostly mocking of her own self-consciousness where that activity is concerned. His crinkled brow earns an inquisitive stare, but she's quick to bob her head in an affirmative answer. Curling her legs up into her seat, she turns slightly and props herself up against the arm nearest the bluerider. "I only hear what goes on in the laundry. What they say. It could be false, you know." Her nose wrinkles pertly. "Of course, that Lady Issedi was murdered by a madman, and a lot of people don't think he got what he deserved, that his punishment was too light. But there are rumors, that maybe she was cheating on Lord Devaki and that baby wasn't his. Not that that bears on her murder--" She looks bothered by that. A nod agrees readily to sledding, but of ice skating, X'vae wheedles, "What if I promise to make sure no matter what happens, I look the bigger fool?" Even with her new nearer positioning, the man's chin doesn't leave his hand. He wouldn't want to lose that 'makes him look interested' edge, though it seems to be genuine enough for the words of Lady Issedi. "Madman," he says thoughtfully. "Does it bother you that some think she deserved it?" The brunette must think it's a trick from how her eyes narrow little by little. "How would you look like the bigger fool if I'm the one falling down the whole time?" Farideh continues giving them that suspicious stare for a few seconds longer, and then sighs exasperatedly, canting her head to the side. "I-- it does. It's hard to think of her as anything other than a polite, nice lady. Not that I knew her knew her, but I've always heard of her in a positive way. What do you think?" "Oh, I'm quite well practiced at making myself a fool," X'vae smiles winningly. Of course, with a smile like that, there's half a chance that 'X'vae looking like a fool' makes him come off looking charming and adorable. He leans only a little closer to say, as though conferring a secret, "The gossips only ever remember the biggest fool." Then he shifts so he's mirroring her positioning, leaning against his chair. "I think... there will always be those willing to attribute more wrongs and flaws to the dead and the famous. After all, they can't generally defend themselves." His expression is a touch bitter for a moment before it clears. "Unfortunately, the truth may never be known and all of us left behind can only question and speculate." He shrugs unhappily. It is what it is. "I would feel more confident if you promised you could keep me from falling," Farideh quips back, laughing brimming behind her words. "I suppose I'll just have to trust that you know what you're doing. Ice skating," is lamented, with a rueful sigh. But that's the extent of her amusement, because their other words are much more somber. "No. It won't. I don't know if I can settle for not knowing though." Not that she has an option. Not that she matters. There's a flurry by the entrance to the bubble cavern, movements - or, people? - that bring a frown to the young woman's face. "I should go. I have-- the laundry," with a shrug. The first makes X'vae laugh, a short bright chuckle. "Farideh," he addresses her apologetically, "No one can keep you from falling. Not on the ice. Not in life. But," his smile warms, "I can promise I'll help you back up when you fall." He looks at her a moment (too long?) before adding, "That's what friends are for, isn't it?" Friends are also for talking about the hard things. "If you can't settle, then see what you can find out. You won't find your answers in the laundry gossip, but gossip is a good place to start. And having tact would probably be helpful given that it involves a Lady," he advises. "If you want to go down to the Hold sometime, Zaz and I can take you." In case she wants to ask questions of their gossips. He glances in the direction of the action. "Of course," he leans back, disengaging from the conversation with a restrained smile. "Oh, hey, if you have deliveries to make to the infirmary anytime, I'll do them. I can stop by during lunch or after my sweeps." Whenever's convenient. "If you say so," Farideh replies liltingly, and shifts forward, putting her feet back on the floor. "Yes. Friends do. Friends should. I would try to help you up if you fell, X'vae, but you are much, much bigger than me." Her lips quirk into a good-humored smile as she stands and adjusts the front of her shirt, just before she looks down at him. "I might take you up on that. Ice skating and gossiping, it sounds positively delightful." Inclining her head, curtly, she wiggles her fingers at the bluerider in an abbreviated wave. "I'll keep that in mind. I hope I didn't interrupt anything. Have a great day, X'vae," and then she's walking, fast, rather than stomping, towards the exit. "Well, I'd appreciate the effort, at any rate," the blonde quips back with a smile to match the brunette's. X'vae lifts his hand in farewell before sliding onto his feet and picking up his bag. Maybe this isn't the best place for study. Who knows who might stomp in next and if they'll be so kind with their hostages as Farideh proved to be. |
Leave A Comment