Logs:Don't Look So Sad
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| RL Date: 22 July, 2011 |
| Who: Rhaelyn, Tomaeran |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Rhaelyn interrupts Tom. Later, they make plans. |
| Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions, Emmeline/Mentions, Nathalia/Mentions, Riorde/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
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| Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr 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. It's really too late for many people to be up and around the weyr, but the night hearth usually has a few diehards or night owls hiding out near the fire. This is where Rhaelyn comes in the dead of night with a few scrolls of hide tucked under her arms. She has a mug of something steamy in her other hand too. First there's a quick look around to see who is around before deciding if she should stay or not. Tomaeran's here, sitting in one of the chairs towards the back of the room, away from the hearth, with a busty blonde sitting in his lap, though she might as well be wrapped all the way around him, really. It seems to have turned a few people off their solitude: the last two are on their way out as Rhaelyn wanders in, one of them looking particularly disgusted as the blonde makes a particularly /loud/ gasping noise. Watches the disgusted weyrfolks leaving and stares after them. She's seen some things in here and so the folks leaving? This she has to see. Spotting Tomaeran and his...interest, the island girl can't help but smirk. She saunters right up and raises a shrill voice, "Oh. My. WORD! Tom-Ae-Ran! You had -better- explain yourself right away!" The hides are kept in hand, hugging them up against herself as though to shield herself from the activity in the chair. Evidently, Tom and his paramour have been relatively unaware of the others in this room for some time - enough so that Rhaelyn's intrusion makes both of them jump, and disentangle lips long enough to actually turn to face her. The girl looks mortified (also: flush-cheeked and stubble-burned), and pulls straight out of Tom's grasp, adjusting her clothing as she pelts for the door. Tom's amusement fades steadily to irritation as his friend makes her exit; "Was that /really/ necessary, Rhae? Shells. She'll probably refuse to see me, next time." The response is worth the pains it took Rhae in deciding if she should go intrude on them or not. She smiles impishly and waves after the girl, "No. Wait. Don't leave." Sounding ever so heart sore that the girl is darting out. Her cold eyes drift to Tom and she accuses, "Just what did you -do- to her?" She looks at his lap, as though the thought is crossing her mind that she might settle in the place but doesn't move. "You can have a dozen more of -those-. " The easy ones. It's hard to imagine that Tom would /object/ to Rhaelyn taking the place of his now-vanished paramour, and certainly, he's still stretched out in a way that would make it easy. But it doesn't last - he adjusts himself, then sits up, crossing his arms in front of him as he complains, "I didn't /do/ anything. We were having some fun, right until you interrupted. Maybe there are dozens of girls I could have, but /she/ was right /here/, and I was enjoying it." He sounds sulky. The scrolls of hides and papers are dropped onto the table that Tom is obviously not using and she settles herself primly into the chair across from him. "I know. I wrecked me. Poo. Poor Tom." She's all smiles after a rather pretty pout. "I didn't think she would crumble like a tissue. I expect her to come at me swinging. The girls here are very...agressive." She sips at the warmed beverage. "Don't look so sad." "/She/ wanted to go and find a dark corner somewhere. I convinced her this would be much more comfortable," explains Tom, with an expression that suggests he's still enjoying the memories of the encounter, even if the girl is gone. "I think she was embarrassed. I was giving her such a good time she forgot she was in public." He shifts his chair so that he can lean one elbow upon the table, and considers Rhaelyn. "Why shouldn't I look sad? I was totally going to get some tonight." "That is disgusting." Rhaelyn says, as though she's informing a child that he shouldn't pick his nose in public. There's a little shudder at the thought of it. "Why didn't you just take her to the storeage room? That's where everyone goes I hear." She rolls her eyes a little and sighs, "Did you really have her shirt off?" Tomaeran raises an eyebrow: disgusting? /Really/? "I didn't /want/ to go to the storage room. Frankly, I'm tired of hiding in dark corners. What I really want is a room of my own so that I don't need to take anyone to any of these places, but apparently they're not all that easy to come by." Smugly, he adds, "Most of the way off. Unbuttoned enough to give me access, anyway." Rhaelyn regards Tomaeran evenly, =Disgusting= says the look to his questioning eyes. Really. "Well, I am sure you'll have at her again. I'll even go and tell her that I was playing a game with you. A...scorned lover or something. That will put you in her good graces. Women have sympathy for men who are hounded by other women." She smirks a bit. Something hovers around her lips, something not said but she wants to speak of it, but so far, she's nibbling back the words, not letting them out. "Don't be silly," scoffs Tom. "If I want her back, I'll get her myself. You needn't interfere." He runs his fingers through his tousled hair, hesitating before he adds, "What's up? I know you too well not to know that expression of yours. Spill." Rhaelyn shakes herself and flashes a scolding look at Tom for knowing her too well. "You are going to laugh at this." She's sure of it, not exactly troubled either, comfortable enough with the other exile. "A crafter....wants to sleep with me. I mean, wants to give me earings, hair clips, a hand-made wood chest..." She leans back into her chair, looking sickened as she unloads this on poor Tom. "And...I -want- those things. But then I'll be a slut. And he'll never marry me. And it will get around this horrible place.....and Ri and her girl-lover..." she bites off whatever she was going to add with a click of teeth. Tomaeran's expression turns dubious, his eyebrows raising as he eyes the other exile. "As far as I can tell," he says, finally, "No one cares whatsoever who you sleep with, here. Most of them don't get married - or if they do, it's different, casual. It seems like a much more efficient way to do things, frankly; if /we'd/ had it, I'd never have had to put up with Ani for so long." He shakes his head, shoulders shrugging as he does so. "If you want to sleep with him, just do it." Rhaelyn looks dubious, "I have been called a 'slut' more than half a dozen times." Rhaelyn notes haughtily, "And I keep my...interests...in kissing. Not throwing my breasts into men or...whatever that little harlot was doing with you." She smiles though, not meaning anything by it, it's just a name. Right? Like Sweetie. Harlot Sweetie. She frowns, "I don't -want- to sleep with him. Have him sweat all over me, grunting and gasping." And that 'slut' wasn't counting the 'sluts' called behind her back! ZOMG "Have you?" Tom seems surprised. Perhaps there are just a class of people he doesn't interact with. "Shells, Rhae, we /were/ just kissing. Maybe some groping, too, but it's not like we were-- what's wrong with what I was doing?" He straightens in his chair, not entirely as though he's offended, but certainly like he's a little bit frustrated. "If you don't want to sleep with him, then don't." "I have!" Been called such things. "I don't know why I care. I shouldn't care. I'm not doing anything wrong. But it makes me so angry." She speaks in a tone that suggests she doesn't understand the sort of range it provokes in her either. She gives a little shrug, noticing the shifting around, "It's not anything for you to worry about anyway. I'm sorry." She crinkles up her nose slightly and sighs, thinking and then disregarding a thought that ony flickers in her eyes a moment. Instead she presses on, "So, have any dragons come sniffing for you?" Tomaeran scoffs, telling her, firmly, "Well, that's rude of them. And uncalled for. You shouldn't listen to them." That's apparently the final word on that topic for the male exile, because he's leaning forward, and frowning, as he adds, "No, they haven't. Should they have? Why?" "Oh, they should have!" Rhaelyn is certain of this, and as eager to get off the topic of the sexy-bits as anything. "That brownrider, the one that Ri is so protective of, well she took a couple of us out to have her dragon look us over." She sounds proud about it, smoothing a hand through her hair. She might even give Tom and his discomfort a look of sympathy as she gloats a bit at being called out. Tomearan frowns even more, sitting back in his chair in silence as he eyes Rhaelyn, his expression turning even slightly wary. "What's so important about that?" he wants to know, attempting - and failing - to sound as though he doesn't particularly care one way or another. Rhaelyn lets out her breath, "Have you only been chasing women since we got..." she holds up her hand to ward off his response. "Of course. Well, you see, the dragonriders, and all of this mainland, leave everything up to the dragons. THey let the leaders get picked by who fucks the best and they let the dragons pick who they think will be the best selection for the eggs." Rhaelyn sniffs delicately. "I think that Taikrin's beast would have picked me. But that bitch lied. She picked another girl instead." Did she even get the name of the girl? Does it matter? Tomaeran gets as far as , "Not /only/--" before Rhaelyn stops him; surprisingly, he complies, and lets her continue in silence. "So-- you might have actually been Searched?" He sounds rather jealous, actually. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. Because we'll be on those sands whether or not their beasts pick us, right? And the little ones won't know, and we'll /make/ them pick us." Rhaelyn smirks a little, "Well, might have been. But I think it's all a sham. Who the riders think they want. Who they -like-." Because clearly Rhae is not on anyone's list of hugables. "This girl...'Nat'. Shellfish in summertime...she's an annoying busybody. She has her so far up the weyr's ass...She was upset with me because Elgin likes /me/. Like I can stop someone from having taste." A little smirk as she talks trash about the canddiate. "Anyway...you're right. So right. You will still be there with me. Right? You aren't going to /forget/ are you?" Meaning, when he's distracted by some girl. Can Tom be excused for being mostly disinterested in all of this? It doesn't, after all, involve /him/. Or revolve around him, which is maybe the most important thing. So he doesn't say much, not until that last remark, at which point he straightens his shoulders and gives Rhaelyn a /Look/. "Of course I'm not going to forget - what do you think I am, stupid? It's the best chance we have, and we /agreed/." "I think, that you're most interested in getting yourself pleasured is what. And that is fine in this land of distracted, lazy, over indulgent sloths, but it's not going to work for /us/." She's voice is sharper than usual, perhaps because she's spotted that drifty-eyed expression in Tom when she was speaking, or maybe because of the scene that she walked in on. Both of Tom's hands get raised in what is probably a gesture of guilt or defeat - or something along those lines, at least. "Okay," he says, sharply, with a hint of whinging to it. "What do you think I should be doing, instead? As far as I can see, there's nothing I /can/ do to make sure we Impress, except make sure we're there when the time is right." The girl watches her fellow exile, cold eyes jabbing at him. "I don't know." Rhaelyn admits, her tone sharp. In s more apologetic tone she murmurs, "I just would like someone to have my /back/ sometimes." The girl sounds frustratted, pushing the rolled hides off the table just to watch them fall. "That Nat girl nips at my heels every time I turn around and then there's Ri's girlfriend--that brownrider, and Ri herself and...I just would like to know I'm not alone in this sometimes. I'm not a monster. I just want wants -we- deserve. I want them to -pay-." Tomaeran looks rather like he intends to snap back at Rhaelyn, at first, but his expression softens and instead, he reaches out as if to take one of her hands. Whether or not she lets him, he tells her, firmly, "I /do/ have your back. It's just-- a man's got needs, and if I Impress, I'm not going to be able to sate them for months and months, everyone says. But if you need me, I'm right here. Come find me. And I'll try and stick closer, sometimes." His tone is firm as he adds, "They /will/ pay. All of them. You'll see." Rhaelyn hands might be caught up, but not the girl's attention. Her head is turned away, her lips pursed in sourness. Her fingers curl in the grip that takes hers, so that he might not escape as quickly as he tangled with them in his grasp. "Tom," She says his name firmly but softer she continues, "I don't care who you fuck. I don't care who fucks you. I just...you are the only person I really trust. I mean, really, really trust. Others may say I can trust them but...I know you'll be honest with me. Not play me." She lets out a breath, a frustrated little huff, "Will you come to the gather with me?" Tomaeran doesn't seem to /want/ to take his hands away, at least: he squeezes Rhaelyn's easily, promising, "I'll always be honest with you, Rhae." Of course, in Tom Land, things are not necessarily as they are in the real world, but-- still. "The gather? Well - sure, all right. It seems like it might be a good opportunity to see something more, right? See how those Holders live. Of course I'll go with you." Rhaeland is pitted with similar changes in reality, so it is that Rhae squeezes his hands right back. Rhaeland happens to have no sex at all, lovely. Her smile faulters a little, "You know, it's going to be at Highreaches Hold." Sure, she should be gushing about having a date and all, but there are more important things to think about. Tomaeran probably wouldn't like Rhaeland much. Oh well. At least Tomland is a happy, sexy place. "I had heard that," he agrees. "Why - is there a problem with that? We're /from/ there, some of us. Originally. Our family held there. It seems like it's an important thing for us to know." Rhaelyn actually giggles, "Not a problem Tommy, but a chance to see things. Right?" She bends down and pulls one of the rolls closer so that it shows the hold map. "I think that it would a great chance to split from the crowd and see some of the hold." Always thinking. See what happens when you're not thinking about sex? Tomaeran seems genuinely surprised by that idea, but /distinctly/ intrigued. He leans forward, examining the map with a curious glance, and asks, "Where'd you get this, Rhae? I didn't think they'd /let/ us get access to something like this. Or keep it." His fingers trace along the lines of the map, following the path up towards the main hold, and indoors. "They say we're going to have to have escorts. Do you think we can distract ours in order to actually see something?" Rhaelyn watches Tomaeran with a little 'sssshh'ing as he finds interest in what she has found. "I don't think they care that I have a very, very old map of the hold." Rhaelyn replies to Tom as she picks up the hide and spreads it out so he can see it over the table top. "I was told by the scribe that several halls were not in use now becuse something-or-other." She shrugs a bit. "What do you think?" And softly, "The scribe in the records room is...nice." She may have kissed him with something much like the scene Tom just had. Who knows. "'Nice'," smirks Tom, giving Rhaelyn a meaningful glance. "Mm-hmm." But he /is/ interested in the map, and interested in getting a closer look, examining it with due care. "I guess they've got so much here, they don't even notice - why would they? They always have new things. It looks pretty big." It seems to surprise him. "I mean, the weyr is big, of course, but... I didn't figure the holds would be this big, too." The girl traces a finger over the ball room and the little dressing rooms that the women have along another hall from the men and she murmurs, "I imagine the people who have dragons only think of their lovely homes in the cliffs of the weyrs." She frowns to herself, "Dragons can....go anywhere. Like the warm southern waters." She looks at Tom, "I want a dragon. I want to go 'anywhere." Tomaeran points to the harbour, the ocean beyond in, remarking, "I bet that water is as cold as it was around the island. I want to go anywhere, too. I want more than just-- /this/." Never mind that six months ago, 'this' was a fantasy in and of itself. "We're going to have all of it, Rhae. It can't be too much longer, right? And then it'll all be ours. We'll have the nicest cave-homes, and the nicest things, and we'll go south whenever we want to: no one will ever stop us doing anything." Rhaelyn nods her head, and her eyes twinkle as though she believes. She does, doesn't she? Believe that is. THere might be just a hint of tarnish to that dream, something 'off' as she smiles, as her lips curl in that practice little arch of lip the teeth. She bows her head, a half laugh that toes the line into a giggle. "I...." She gives a shrug at last and rolls up the map. "You what?" prompts Tom, lifting his head from the now-rolled up map to consider Rhaelyn. "What is it?" Rhaelyn's fingers ball against the map but she schools herself against the action when the paper crinkles in time with Tom asking her. "Huh? No, it's just....I agree with you. I do. But, have you spoken to any of those dragonriders? They are...different. The way their eyes get all glossy..." her voice trails off. Tomaeran seems to scoff at the idea, at the thing Rhaelyn is implying; he shakes his head, slowly at first, and then steadily, more firmly. "So? So they're all soft and desperately in love with their dragons. What of it? I don't see how that would change /anything/ for us." Rhaelyn lets out a breath, "I guess you're right. There isn't anything diffrent with them than us. That one dragonrider they ar all weeping over is just like -our- dead. Except that he is just one and we had dozens and dozens and no one shed a tear." She smooths fingers over the creeses in the rolled up map. "Will you help me snoop around in their rooms at the gather?" "They just don't know death the way we do," says Tom, scornful and unimpressed. "Why should they? They lead charmed lives; no one just randomly dies, not the way they did for us." He inclines his head forward, firm and determined at Rhaelyn's question. "If you like. What do you think to find?" Rhaelyn nods in agreement about their charmed lives, her lips thining as her jaw tightens, "Yes." It's all she can say now, emotional as she thinks of so many people who have died withe a quarter of the sympathy of one dragonrider. "I was thinking maybe we could see their records room." Rhaelyn replies when her voice recovers enough to speak.. "Maybe if it's just some small differenece in records? One of the elders can see it." She thinks a moment and then asks, "Do you think our harper is still 'ours'? Or, has she crossed over to the mainlanders? Tomaeran's brow knits as he, presumably, attempts to work out exactly what Rhaelyn is getting at. "You want to-- find reference to us? In their records?" It's as though this is the first time the idea has crossed his mind as a possibility; it probably is. Tom is not, after all, the deepest thinker. "I doubt it. Emmeline is--" he stops short of scorn. "Devaki, maybe. If we found something. His grandfather." Rhaelyn lifts one shoudler slightly, "Not records of 'us', or our families," She says with a little laugh, "I'm no Harper." Bitterness there, harsh and acid. "But, " Quick to add before Tom should guess she's given up, "I might find something. Some story or another. LIke the hatching records from here. The ones about the criminals impressing." She lets that slip right through rather casually. Everyone knows criminals get dragons right? "There may be stories written about it. Not meaning for it to be reality. Sneaky-like." As though Rhae imagines some puzzle box. There's a nod about Devaki, as though he is easier for her to seek out to share information that is uncovered. "We might not find anything." Still frowning, Tom is evidently trying to keep up with Rhaelyn, and failing. He hides it, though, as best as he can, nodding firmly. "All right." Beat. "But. What do you mean about 'criminals'? Why are there criminals?" Rhaelyn finds herself needing to backtrack and the exile flashes a look of irritation at Tom for not keeping up. Nevermind that she's all over the board. "I was reading the hatching records. Apparently a clutch or so back there were some crimials being kept here, much like 'us'." She smirks a bit as she continues, "And those criminals got dragons. A guard or two too. " She scowls slightly. "I imagine their lives changed having a dragon. Wonder what sort of criminal activity they are doing now." Tomaeran's brows raise, and his eyes go wide. "I'd /love/ to get some of them on our side," he remarks, casually. "Shells. Can you imagine? Don't suppose you've got any names on them, or anything?" He aims a saccharine smile at his companion, clearly aiming to butter her up a bit to get whatever information she can share. Rhaelyn digs into her pocket and takes out the hide she has some information scribbled down. She doesn't seem to have this infomration weighted in the same degree that he does though. "I have the guard's name...the one who impressed for sure." She curls open the hide for Tom to see, watching him and his butteriness. "Do you think the criminals would help -us-?" Her expression if nothing else says 'aren't we the good guys?'. Tomaeran waves a hand at the guard's name, admitting, "Not sure if he'd help us. But the others-- /yes/. They're bound to dislike the weyr as much as we do, right? We're not criminals, but we're not /with/ the weyr, right?" He's talking low and excited, now. "I bet they wouldn't mind it if we shook things up a bit, made things happen. It'd give /them/ a chance to do things, too. Right?" Rhaelyn puts her finger over one of the names that she has from her list on the records. Her nose crinkled up. "I...don't know." SHe doesn't look nearly as sure, or excited. Her finger slips off the name, and it's the brownrider, Taikrin. Very much a pro-weyr type. She looks at Tom to see if that name means anything to him rather that spilling into any story. One of her shoulders lift a little, a bit of a question instead of agreeing to his excitement. It must mean /something/, because Tom hesitates, frowning, clearly attempting to place the name for some long seconds before-- "Oh." He deflates, visibly disappointed. "So much for that, then. Everyone says she's friendly with the Junior Weyrwoman. Huh. Guess people around here have bad taste. Never mind; we'll just have to find our /own/ allies." Even though the girl didn't look so sure about picking sides with the criminals, Rhae doesn't look ready to toss in the towel completely. "I don't have all the information." She admits quietly. "I want to talk with thie guard. See what he knows." She frowns a little, plotting is her thing but this is more than she usually does. "I just need more information. There has to be -something- here we can use. Guard, or criminals or....they can't all be happy with that snot-nosed leader and the bitch." Her breath huffs out softly. "I thought you might have been nosing around a bit too..." The 'instead of fucking around' left unsaid. Barely. "I bet you can find it all out," says Tom, lazily confident, spreading his hands out upon the table in a vague gesture that doesn't seem to mean much of anything. If he sees her snark for what it is, he doesn't react to it: he seems, if anything, faintly amused. "Some of those girls are full of information," he informs her, calmly. "About how some of the Holds around High Reaches aren't necessarily thrilled with the weyr. About how /Crom/ in particular has a long and unhappy relationship. Reckon that might be useful, maybe?" Maybe? Rhaelyn puses her lips, the movement slow as she grasps for Tom's remark, "Wait." Her gaze drifts across the room but she's not seeing anyting, more thinking. "Ylynna said....isn't Lord Highreaches daughter to be married to Lord Crom? Won't that make them...happy?" Unions on the island always made people happy for a time. At least the elders. Tomaeran hesitates; this is obviously news to him. "But-- I got the impression Lord Crom was kind of... older. Like, had been around and causing problems for the weyr for turns and turns." He gives Rhaelyn a thoughtful glance. "/Personally/, if I was supposed to marry some old dude, I'd be pretty pissed off." The shrug Rhae gives is part helpless puzzlement for half information she gathered and part apology for not being well informed. "I'll try to get more information out of Ylynna. I just...sort of something Devaki said in passing about Lord Crom." She shrugs a bit at her lack of correct information. "I'll get to the bottom of it. I've been fussing around too much about dragons and....that's just going to have to wait." Firmly; "There's nothing we can do about dragons for now." Tom bobs his head firmly at Rhaelyn. "I'll see what else I can find out, too. But-- maybe we have a start? Seems like there's possibility there, anyway. If we can find the right information. I wonder if we could get close to Lord High Reaches' daughter at this gather? But-- I guess she'd probably be kept pretty close." Disappointing. Rhaelyn laughs softly about getting close to the daughter. "Now that would be a trick. Getting close to her." She gets up and starts to gather up her thigs. "I need to call it a night I think. But mabye we can meet between now and that gather and talk about...plans." Apparently gathers are for plots, not parties. "We ought to," agrees Tom. "We're going to need to look the part. Like we-- belong. And--" But he'll break off, rising as she does. "Sleep well, Rhae." He'll follow after her: it's probably time for him, too, to get some rest. Beauty sleep and all. |
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