Logs:The Silent Treatment
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| RL Date: 1 August, 2008 |
| Who: Leova, N'thei |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| It's not warm yet, nowhere near it, but the people of the Reaches learned a long time ago to seize every last bit of warmth with both hands. That's what happened not so long ago, with the regular party in the Snowasis spilling out onto the ledge, drinks and chatter filling the corner of of the bowl until the sun went down and the stars came out and it got chilly again. N'thei and F'rint are the last remnants of gaiety where they sit at two of the wrought iron chairs. The brownrider just finishes his drink, just drains it in a long swallow, and puts the empty mug down in front of N'thei with a merciless chuckle-- but they shake hands and he jogs off down the steps unmolested, leaving N'thei all alone under the stars, so tragic. Along comes a woman, humming under her breath: maybe she's collecting dishes? Freshening the glows that need it? But no, she's got a greenrider's jacket instead of one of those memorable bodices, and a full mug cupped in her hands. A mug with steam rising up to her chin. Portable warmth. She takes up the bench like she owns it, cold iron or no. "Warmer inside." From many people, from most people, that remark would be one of two things: An attempt to make conversation or a subtle suggestion that they preferred to be alone. From N'thei, it's more like a very casual proximity warning-- he's here, in case she overlooked his presence. Whatever residual good vibes were left from N'thei-F'rint interactions leave his expression while he tracks Leova from the tunnel to the bench, a frown where he notes the greenrider-jacket. Might he have smiled for a bodice? Doubtful /that/ greenrider so much as owns one, though if Rhonda got her hands on her, who knows. Her head turns, not all the way but so she's profiled, eye rolling back: yes, yes, see you. "'Tis that." One hand's got the mug now, but the other elbow can slouch and her shoulder with it. And then abruptly she looks at him with more focus, closer, not long but something that gets the corner of her mouth curling up before she turns back. /I-know-something/~ And N'thei knows that she knows something. Not what she knows, or he wouldn't bother meeting her look for that one second, landing his glance on the curled corner of her mouth. He leans his elbow to the edge of the table, leans his chin onto his hand, looks directly back at her. Waits. Which means he has a fine, if also somewhat dim, view of her sipping that drink she's got, that nice warm drink that mustn't be too hot, seeing as how she doesn't jerk away from a drink from it. Doesn't spill it all over that jacket of hers. Nothing exciting, in short, the line of her mouth relaxing that much more as she drinks, and looks out, and drinks some more. It's only after a while, if he waits that long, that slow tension creeps up her shoulder and neck and she pulls up her collar so it hides her throat. But then, that might just be the cold. N'thei waits that long. And longer. And longer. What do he and Leova really have to talk about that he'd trouble to break the silence now that it's had time to curl up and go to sleep between them? No drink to occupy him, no distraction to bide his time, just dark gray eyes that stay there, that know she's let it slip-- on purpose?-- that she knows /something/. Chance a glance over, it'd make him so happy to know that she knows that he knows that she knows. Other things to look at: stars, let's say, might be a future written up there. Fingernails, and whatever's beneath them. Darker things, out in the bowl beyond them. Let the silence rest. Her sips slow, each held before it's swallowed. And there's longer between them. And finally she does shift towards him, but it's to pull her knee up onto the bench, conserve that much more heat. Longer and longer and longer and finally she's stopped, and she does look, eyes made placid and dark by the dimness. Happy now? No, but happier, and that's something. N'thei smiles to meet Leova looking over; disconcerting much? Someone should say something-- 'nice night,' 'chilly, isn't it,' 'what is it that you know?!' But no. Now it's gone on long enough that he just lifts questioning eyebrows and contents the silence. Or possibly hand signals? If only Leova /could/ lift that single brow, properly, but no. It's more of a twitch, and even that's more inward than out: at that /smile/. So what she does is, instead of meeting his eyes for too long, lift the mug a notch before she sips. It could be a toast, even. And see? She can smile too, that sideways slip of a thing, just as her eyes start to slide away again. N'thei has no drink, only someone else's empty mug, as good to toast someone as to brain them and he does neither. If someone walked out in the middle of this, what would they think-- smiling, staring, would the two of them look captivated or creepy? She looks away, he doesn't, eyes still focussed on Leova like they're pinned there, the only little punishment he has for the slip of her secretive smile. She can take it for a while longer, and does: Turns of stablework among men have taught that much. Just to do what she does, in this case to sip. Stolidly. Solidly: rock against a hard place or maybe just a pile of straw. But then... why does she have to? So she doesn't. Instead she stands, slowly, one boot a scrape against the stone while the other's silent. Heading for the bowl. Only, she takes the long way that's by N'thei but just out of arms' reach, and her head turns as she passes, curiously. He's a big man, she's not tall. It isn't that far to look down. Conversationally, "Realized yet? What you... lost?" A few more steps and she'll be at the stairs. He might have let her leave, said nothing, watched her go wordlessly, left that smile as one of the mysteries of the ages. Reactionless while she stands except that his eyes raise to stay in place. N'thei can't place the reference. He tries, narrowed eyes, creased brows, slacked frown, but the end result is just a come-again list to the angle of his head. So; "Tell me what I lost." So-sorry: he can read it in the tilt of hers before she says a word, and it could be a whole, a /whole/ lot more mocking than it actually turns out to be. "Don't miss it, can't be that important." Can it? One step, two. "Evening, N'thei." N'thei contents himself with the following certainty: "You're right. Whatever you /think/ you know? Can't be that important." Niceties are for nice people; he ignores Leova's. But he's a little fettered by the exchange, shifting through all the little happenings to find one that might have reached the greenrider, the inventory of current events visible with the glazed eyes and twitched frown. "Of course you're right," and could it be said more reassuringly? She could smile, her eyes lingering as they are for just a moment on that look, that twitch, but instead one hand tucks into her pocket, the other still holding the cup. "Maybe..." but she leaves it at that, leaves him with that, even before she starts disappearing down the steps. No look back. Places to go, other people to see. |
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