Logs:The Wrong Door
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| RL Date: 15 April, 2009 |
| Who: P'draig, Yuliye |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: P'draig's on his way to make amends with a friend and knocks on the wrong door. Yuliye entertains him as a /lady/ should. Get your minds out of the gutter, this is totally PG. |
| When: Day 23, Month 6, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| For all that P'draig knows his way around the Reaches pretty well, he must've taken a wrong turn somewhere because as he slows down, tugs on his collar a little to neaten it up, runs a hand through dark hair to neaten it and rolls his shoulders back right before he knocks, he has no idea he's got the wrong door. Behind his back, something is hidden, arm folded to conceal. The other drops back to his side after that knock and he looks up and down the hallway while he waits. Indeed! The lower cavern hallways, unless traversed on a near daily basis, can be easy to get lost in. Unaware that the knock at her door isn't meant for her, the brunette that opens it, flings it open with a bright smile. She must've been expecting someone else, for despite the fact that she schools it quickly, there's a moment where her expression falters. But, breaths pass into long seconds where her lips reshape kindly for the man at her door. Big eyes blink twice, taking in P'draig from his shoes to the neatened hair, then drops to find his face. Sweetly, "Can I help you?" Behind her, a suite of rooms typically allocated to notables is visible, neat and elegantly appointed. Around from his back comes that arm, holding a small bouquet of tropical blossoms and one single branch of tiny little orange fruits, decorative but also good eats. And then P'draig's mouth opens just a little, brows lifting. "Shells, I've got the wrong door," he says with a merry laugh. "I'm ... so sorry. You wouldn't happen to know which room is the harper's? Gisele?" Polite, a little abashed he is, though that smile is pretty killer. Yuliye is kind enough to take a few moments of thought, and then a few more after giving P'draig another once over. "More than one harper here, brownrider," says the woman, with a note of tease laden into her lighthearted voice. "But Gisele. Gisele. Pretty?" Inquisitive brows shoot up. "Red hair? I'm pretty sure our other harpers are male." So she will assume merrily and take a step aside so her room with it's pretty front sitting room is visible. "She's in the room next door I think. But," a finger lifts, reaching to hook about the Istan's lapel before smoothing it down. A woman's touch. "I think she's gone to Tillek for a sevenday, mmm, two days ago?" "Right, of course," P'draig says with another sheepish laugh and his eyes track Yuliye's step forward with a flicker of amused interest. "Yes. Very pretty, very nice red-gold hair," the brownrider answers and promptly looks crestfallen at what she has to say. "A seven ... oh. And main hold or ...?" questioning again as he wavers in the hallway just outside her door. "The main hold. Something about discussing the carpentry of the stage the harpers might require for a festival? I was eavesdropping," says the woman with only the most trace element of embarrassment that's more endearing than ashamed, "So I didn't hear too much of anything more. Would you join me for some tea?" Unblinking eyes turn up to P'draig, a little turn of her hand gesturing him in. "It'd be a pity to waste those flowers since you seem to have come a long way and I was just about to indulge in some alone time which," Yuliye allows with a dazzling smile upward, "I would be more than happy to be interrupted during." "Oh, well then I can just --" P'draig starts to step backwards apparently all intent on charging off to Tillek. But he pauses again at the invitation and regards Yuliye a little more closely this time. "Tea? I --" blink, blink. And then his smile slowly resurfaces, a chuckle following. "Sure. I like tea." And the flowers are thus held out towards her. "P'draig, brown Jekzith's," he offers his name up along with the bouquet. "Indulging ... that sounds fun." Even before he's holding the flowers out to her, she's already accepting them with an out-sretched hand--expectant in the 'of course you'll be handing those flowers to me if I bat my lashes' way. Not that she bats her lashes. Again, that smile lifts to dazzle along with those doe eyes. "Come in, P'draig, brown Jekzith's. I'm Yuliye of Crom." The flowers rest in the crook of her arm and she turns, her simple summer sun dress flaring a little for her movement. "Have a seat anywhere." It's a small chamber, this entrance room, with high-backed chairs with ornate woodcrafting about the armrests and deeply cushioned. There's a love seat upholstered in rich Reachian blue fabric and a dark skybroom klah table placed between the various seats. It's a room meant for entertainment and Serious Talk. A tea trolley with the daintiest tea set and a set of four tea cups sits by one of those chairs and there Yuliye sits. "Did this Gisele know to expect you?" The dazzling works very well indeed, even without any lash-batting. Paddy is reeled in that easily. "Yuliye, well met," he does answer politely though as he steps inside, rolls his shoulders out of his jacket and sits on the love seat, draping the article over one of its arms. He sits like a man's man, legs apart, back set, relaxed against the upholstery, hands atop thighs. "Crom, huh? Guess that hatchet's been buried or you wouldn't be living here?" he asks curiously then blows out a breath, something faintly pained creasing the corners of his eyes. "No. We -- had a thing a long time ago. I hadn't seen her for a really long time and I saw her here. It was good to see her, you know? But something I said upset her. Not sure what. She ran off. So I came to apologize." Oh, there's so many things Yuliye could address or ask of P'draig with his comments on the woman he had intended to visit, but you don't get born Aughan's niece without learning a few things in the process including hiding keen eyes and ears that pick up the pained creasing about his eyes. The flowers are laid gently on the table and she shifts in her seat, turning a little, to pour a bit of liquid sweetener into two dainty little cups. All without asking. She's decided that he'll take sugar and cream whether he wants it or not. She just knows. The tea is then poured in a ceremonial fashion and one of those cups with its matching saucer and teaspoon is passed onto P'draig with both hands. "The hatchet isn't quite buried, but I am here to make sure it does get buried. My uncle thought I'd be a splendid choice to pull at heartstrings and make people laugh." She confides with a slight lean in that does pretty nice things for her cleavage but in such a lady-like, 'I have no idea what I'm doing' sort of way. "I'm good at making people laugh, see." Sweetener poured, cream too and P'draig opens his mouth to say something about that, but subsides, just watching in faint bemusement as that dainty cup comes his way. It's all the daintier for the contrast with his broad hands, though the way he holds the cup isn't awkward, but rather, strangely practiced and his fingers are nimble with that little spoon as he stirs. Two predictable things happen next, first, he checks out the cleavage and seems to enjoy the view though he's polite enough not to stare, second, he laughs. "So you are and if that's all the qualification that's needed to bury that hatchet, then your uncle made a good pick." There's just something about P'draig that... Yuliye holds her own teacup in the most ladylike way, straightening to regard the Istan from her seat. Did she notice his look? She's not giving anything away with that sweet smile or the demure lift of her lashes. "I believe," she starts a new confessional after that long pause, "That he's just hoping to get me away from Crom while he arranges another marriage. I might protest you see." But not really, not with resignation light in her words. Minions of Crom so rarely are afforded the luxury of protesting his decisions. Pleased, her pretty eyes drop to take in how he holds his tea, "You've had tea before like this. It's a special blend that's reserved for my family. Tell me what you think?" That regard is answered with a friendly little smile, charming in its own way though it's not necessarily intended as such. Her remark earns another laugh from the brownrider. "The way of holds, isn't it? And is being away something you'd want anyway? In between things." Gray-blue eyes flicker down to the cup and P'draig nods. "More than once. My mother is big on manner and ceremony and tea and I was training to be a baker before I Impressed. I served in Lord Tillek's kitchen and was friends with his daughter, many turns ago, though they tended more towards enjoying a good sail and a hearty swig of beer at Tillek back then, before you know, all the latest happenings," Paddy explains and he smiles again as he tilts up the cup, drinks a properly sized sip carefully and rolls the brew carefully over his tongue like it was fine wine instead of simple tea. "Good flavor, not too strong, but stays with you. Nice." Avid eyes watch P'draig as he partakes while avid ears listen to the tales he spins. In return, Yuliye considers him with a tilt of her head and then rises to take the cozy seat by the brownrider, affable in the look she spares for him. She's all comfort and cushions with that air of quality breeding that somehow mixes all together. Frank eyes, widened and framed by long lashes turn up to study the bigger person. "I like the Weyr," she says simply, finally. Candidly, she continues with a pleasant, "It's easy to fit in here. It's a nice breather. Even if I am Aughan's niece here, I'm finding there are less people who view Crom as their mortal enemy which is a relief, and I can be... not Blooded? For a little while?" P'draig takes another less considered sip from the cup, tilts his head a little as Yuliye gets cozy beside him. "I'm weyrbred myself, it was a bit of a switch being at the Hold. But I think that Rose would've agreed with you. About the break and not being Blood for a little bit," he says candidly. "She seemed the type." His voice goes a little lower there, maybe reminiscing a little, then his mouth hitches up into a smile again. "How long do you think you'll get to stay? And other than 'not Blooded' what do you like about the Weyr? I liked the ocean about Tillek. The water always there, near the hold. It's one of the things I like about Ista now, even if I was born here an Impressed at Fort." Oh, more things she could say but can't really! How do you say: I love how there are all these men who don't know who I am and won't get castrated for sleeping with me when you're supposed to be a highbred Blooded holder? So instead, Yuliye just laughs. It's easier that way, and says, "Oh, what isn't there to like?" One hazel eye disappears behind a quick wink and she leans more casually against an armrest. Her legs cross daintily at the ankle and she makes idle movements to pull her shift dress down more smoothly. "My, you've lived all over Pern. I've never been to Ista. Tell me about its famous? Infamous? Black beaches. Are the sands really black?" The wink just draws a grin from P'draig and he tilts the cup up again, winks back, humor dancing merrily in his baby blues. "Won't really disagree," he answers and takes a breath between sips, though his gaze does flicker to mark those movements of hers and how the fabric shifts against her body. "Yeah, I have at that. Thought I'd stick to Fort, but things change," the brownrider continues. "The sands are really black, though maybe more charcoal-ish in some places. It's a little odd at first, but you get used to it. Water's always warm and that's nice. Great swimming and surfing, but it is awfully hot and humid in the summer. Just makes for a lot of very scantily clad women and shirtless men." Mmmm. Shirtless men. She doesn't even have to /say/ it to be transparent on her suddenly brightened face and that 'mmmm' that never quite releases despite her pressed lips of appreciation. There is, however, laughter again, and Yuliye reaches out to pat P'draig's cheek fondly, in response to nothing it would seem, unless it's for the looks he's been giving her that she's been too 'well-bred' to respond to overtly. "You'll have to show me Ista sometime. I mean, if we're going to be friends at all, see." She ingratiates herself so blithely with a simple toss of her hair and a big, irresistible smile. "We've shared tea and you've sat on my couch. That's practically friendship, isn't it?" The cheek-pat lifts P'draig's mouth in a smile that bumps said cheek into her palm a little. "Sure, a little tour around the island if you like. Close-up view of black sand. And if you care to try out my cooking, I can make you a personalized meal, all of your favorites and some ideas of my own all mixed up," the brownrider offers, lifts one of his hands in turn to touch hers, very lightly, though his fingers curl around her wrist to displace her hand. "It's certainly a start," he answers blithely back and after the barest moment's hesitation aims a kiss for those fingertips, eyes on hers throughout. She'll allow that kiss to her fingertips, a gracious smile spreading across her lips. All well-bred Holder girls must go to the same etiquette instructor to learn how to accept compliments such as this one with flair. Yuliye's fingers curl so her hand depends more on his to be held up. "I'll be sure to tell your friend you stopped by," she utters a promise, the slightest touch of throaty escaping. "And in return, you'll cook a dinner for me sometime. Deal?" P'draig brushes his thumb lightly against the outside edge of her hand and nods just once. "Thank you. I'd appreciate it," the brownrider says sincerely, then gently releases her hand, finishes off what's left of the tea in his cup. "And I'll cook dinner for you. Do you want to tell me some of the things you like now, or save it for that day?" Paddy's gaze lifts to her face again, smile widening a touch, something like true warmth starting to edge in. Laughter is just second nature to this disingenuous girl. It bubbles forth as her shoulders lift in a girlish shrug. "Oh, I don't know. Surprise me with something local to Ista." Yuliye's released hand comes up to pat P'draig's cheek with that same fondness then returns to her own cup. She's not quite done with her tea yet and does not appear to be in any hurry to do so. Draining it in one gulp would just not fit with her image. The cup and it's saucer is set onto the table by the flowers and she rises, as hostess, offering her hand to the visiting brownrider in a silent invitation that now is the end of tea time. "It was a pleasure meeting you, P'draig." "A surprise it is, then," P'draig answers, just as blithely, grins for the cheek-pat and sets the cup down on the nearest end-table at the gracious dismissal. "You too, Yuliye," Paddy answers sincerely and he takes her hand in both of his, not a shake really, but a clasp as his head inclines, again, not quite a bow. "I'll send word then?" About dinner. A lady, sometimes, is allowed to give favors, and for P'draig's hands that hold hers, she lifts them to return his favor to her by pressing the most chaste kiss to the backs of them. Yuliye then smiles upward, an almost toothy grin and the slightest lean forward. "Clear skies, rider." She'll lead him to the door, with those hands clasped together, and then wrest them free with the gentlest tug. The door will open, and he will leave, because that's what gentlemen do when in the company of a lady. It's so easy to charm Paddy and charmed he is, by the kiss, by that smile, even with the near-toothiness. "Until dinner," he's bold enough to say and his parting shot is a cheeky wink of his own as he crosses the threshold and heads out into the hallway, walking with just the faintest hit of masculine swagger to his step. Hey, he just had tea with a lady. A very nice lady. It's debatable though, whether or not he goes straight home, or if that jump Between of Jekzith's might not be heading for cooler waters, like say, at Tillek. Yuliye watches for as long as appropriate, catching that masculine swagger that sees P'draig down the hallway out of sight. "Oh, what a nice view," she says into her doorframe--it's seen a lot of secrets and heard a lot of Yuliye's thoughts. Life, though, beckons, and the Crom woman turns to finish the rest of her tea and her various letters. |
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