Logs:A Picnic Lunch
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After convincing Zhia to stand (and before running into L'hai at home), Aishani (Brieli) and N'rov have lunch. She still has things to hide, even from him. |
| Where: Stars at Night Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 9, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions |
| Partway through the picnic lunch, sprawled out on the thick blanket just inside the weyr's mouth where it's out of the wind, N'rov spits out the latest fruit pit: very carefully, onto its little pile so it makes a somewhat misshapen pyramid. And then he glances at Aishani, a smile tugging at his mouth but tug-of-warring with a certain seriousness. "How much does it tempt you to try a Lessa?" Shani's lying on her stomach, legs bent so her feet are in the air, neatly crossed - boots abandoned long ago, off to the side. She's considering a bit of cheese that it doesn't take too long for her to decide in favor of eating, but his attention, then question has her tilting her head to look at him, dark hair spilling behind her. Thoughtful, "I'd need a reason. And I'm not... I don't really think the first one that comes to mind is the best. Why?" "Wise of you," N'rov supposes, though the reason why his gaze has softened when she looks back at him may have nothing to do with wisdom at all. Or, at least, not any of /his/. "You do, though? Need a reason? I... I pretty much want to try it, without a /real/ reason anyway: just to know that I can. That we can." Somewhere in there, he's reached for another fuzzy fruit, and now he turns it over and over in his hands: delicately, so it won't bruise. When he looks at her like that, Aishani's own expression warms, a faint smile surfacing on her lips; instead of fruit, she reaches out to touch his cheek briefly, run fingers along his rough jawline. Wryly, "It /is/ wise, but... I suppose you're giving me a reason, aren't you. Why do you need to know that you can? Not that I think it's wrong, I'm just curious. I suppose it's no surprise that /she's/ not worried." Iesaryth wouldn't be - that job is for her rider. So, of course, her fingertips get a kiss as he tilts his head, and then a murmur. "I'm glad you think that counts." N'rov lifts his head, then, and pokes the stubby stem out with his thumbnail. "I suppose I don't /have/ to, but it's out there, you know? It's wanting to travel, only not just travel... where." He slides a look over at her. "Does she worry about much of anything, these days?" Quietly, "Of course it counts. How could I just... let you go, and wait?" Shani's smile widens for a moment at the kiss, then she tears her gaze away from him to look over the food with the air of a woman looking for the right thing to finish off her meal. With a purse of her lips, "I suppose it's like that, in a sense. Though there's not much you can do - when. And I'm worried, frankly, that I'll get some stupid idea one night..." She won't finish that sentence, only shrugs. Picking out her own fruit, glancing back to him, "Other than me, not really. How..." A glance out toward the ledge. "How are you two?" "I'll remember that, you know. That /wanting to/ is reason enough." N'rov makes a show of eyeing Aishani with much the same air, minus the woman part, even though she's not looking. Only then when she continues, more quietly, "And since you didn't manage it, it's said that you wouldn't be able to... didn't that we know of, anyway. I've thought that if nothing else, I could observe." Still, he won't let himself stall forever, no matter how sincerely. No matter that he's not looking at the ledge, himself. "Better, but I still worry. It doesn't seem the same." Dryly, "Don't push it." And Shani /just/ manages to glance up in time to catch N'rov eyeing her like she's on the menu - and just arches fine brows at him questioningly. What /does/ he have in mind? Only looking down to clean the fruit on the blanket, "Wouldn't be able to do anything. Well. There's that." Her tone is flat, but she moves on quickly, "There might be things that you could try to get a better idea of by watching, I imagine." She'll reach out to cover his hand, even slide a bit closer. "Better is good. Maybe it's just... time. More time." Of /course/ he'd get caught. Maybe that alone would be enough to make him chuckle, but as it is, it's a low if short-lived laugh. "Maybe. Do they talk about it, in your Records? Details about how? For some strange reason, my weyrlingmaster didn't cover it." N'rov lifts her hand on his, makes as though to bite into her knuckles, and then turns them both over so he can sample the fruit instead. He's careful with the juices, not letting them spill. "More time. I get tired of more time. Drills are good, though, and sometimes sweeps. Like stretching, I suppose." He has another bite, then eyes her with more amusement. "So, when do you join wings? I'm looking forward to your ranking me, you know." Grinning over at him, though it fades out nearly as quickly as that laugh, "I don't know. I haven't looked for it, really. Or if I've seen it, I haven't known what I was looking at? I can't see it being easy to find. And yes, they seem to have forgotten to pass that on to us as well." Shani doesn't look like she'll be holding her breath for that lesson, though she might catch it briefly for N'rov biting into fruit so close to her hand. Dark eyes and tone both sympathetic, "I know. I wish I had something else to tell you. Iesaryth says he still seems fine to her, but..." That's different. Even so, she abandons her own fruit in favor of sliding closer still, tugging his hand closer so she can take a bite before, "Soon, I imagine. And are you? Why is that? Have some desire to salute in bed?" She arches her brows, eyes alight. "If you should happen to find it," N'rov begins, and then half-shrugs: she knows the rest. "I'm glad Iesaryth thinks that, anyway. Even if she did choose herself a fruit-stealer." Those gray eyes can look so melodramatically accusing. "And the /rest/ is for me to know. For now." And his brows, so wicked. But then, more carefully, "Your Weyrwoman, how is she? I hope mine won't take an objection to our candidate. But then, the girl apparently does know how to use a needle, so that should be in her favor." "I'll look," Aishani promises. And she's wounded at the accusation - see how hurt she is? Even lowering lashes enough to look as if there might be tears. Sniff. Until; "Oh, that's not fair, N'rov. To ask me and not tell me and look at me like /that/." Her petulance is barely feigned, and for that, she'll steal another, larger bite of his fruit besides. After being done with that, "She's well, as is Ysavaeth. Things seem... reasonable. And I wondered about that." Wrinkling her nose a little, "Best not call her our candidate. She did grow up here, though - no nasty outside influence, at least?" It's N'rov's turn to look doleful, and he quickly snags another nibble lest she finish the rest without him. There's not much left beyond the pit, now. "I won't call her that in public. Nor in private, if you don't want to have anything to do with it. And I suppose 'reasonable' is better than otherwise.... /speaking/ of nasty outside influence: was it hard to change the way you speak? Or did it just happen? I've half a mind to talk to the harper about lessons in talking more Fortian. For when I want to." Given there's not much left, it's nothing to Shani to let him have that nibble and whatever else he wants - though her piece of fruit is still lying abandoned on the blanket somewhere. "I don't mind having something to do with it - and that's a strange thing, to find yourself convincing a girl to stand - but I was thinking that your people might not love it. And it's something..." She trails off, perhaps surprised at the shift in subject, but: "It was hard, yes. It took a long time. But I heard a lot of different accents, and I practiced until it sounded like - nowhere. You might end up doing that within a few turns anyway, but they'd help you. I'd try, but I don't know if I can teach it." "Isn't it, though? But not like it was hard, and it was something she wanted," and N'rov shrugs a little uncomfortably: it's something he could give. "But no. I'll keep your place out of it." He pokes at the pit again, and then finally spits it out to join the others. "'Nowhere.' I wonder... I wonder if there's anywhere out there, Shani, that nobody's using or knows about really, that we could plant these. And then we could come back in a few Turns, and there they'd be." "No. It wasn't hard. I don't imagine that it often is." Aishani shifts; moves herself enough that she can slide an arm around him and look up without upsetting the little semi-pyramid of pits. Propping her head up with her hand, she watches him for a moment before turning her attention to the trees-in-waiting. "I'd think there's lots of places like that. We can't have seen everything, not yet." Glancing back up to him, brown eyes seeking grey, "You'd like that. You've talked about it before." "Not that I want to harness Vhaeryth, or myself, to a plow," N'rov admits to her, sliding down and onto his elbow so he can stay close, too. "Maybe part of it's the idea of planting something, somewhere fecund that it can flourish, and letting it become what it /could/ be instead of just getting tossed on a midden. And, of course, reaping the harvest. Or plucking, rather." His smile's there, but reflective. "Maybe journeymen feel something like that, recommending a prospect to their masters for admittance and approval... do you think you might have apprenticed, if things had been different?" She has to laugh a little at the image, even though she's nodding. "I can't see either of you taking well to it," Shani agrees, leaning in to kiss him briefly when he slides down closer - it's a wonder she's lasted this long. "But I suppose I can understand that. Especially now, when our time isn't quite the same as it would be in a Pass. Why not? If it makes you happy." She's biased on that count, but it's a decent point. "And I imagine it's something like that, depending on the Craft... and me? Oh... no." Lips curving into a wry, rueful smile, "I don't know if I would have left. I'd have learned from my father, if he'd lived." He smiles under Aishani's kiss, and the more so for her indulgent bias. "Learned what? How to run the traders, run them well?" And maybe he's got drills in a bit, but for now N'rov's easing onto his back, smiling back up at her as though it were midday sun and not stone high above them: siesta time. Tell him a story! Aishani might look a little shifty at that question, though it passes as she replies, "Mostly." And any parts that 'mostly' doesn't cover might be a longer conversation, but why bother dwelling on that when she can drape herself across N'rov's chest and talk about all the /legitimate/ things her father might have passed on in training her to become head of the family. The criminal mastermind bit can all wait for another day. No one would ever mistake her for one now. (Later: "Promise me, if you get an idea like that, you'll find me first?" and she does.) |
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