Logs:Weyrwoman-Sweetheart-Girl-Bitch
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| RL Date: 19 July, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, H'vier, Reisoth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dee has a delightful late-night run-in with H'vier. At least the dragons get along? |
| Where: Kitchen, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 4, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions |
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>---< Kitchen, Fort Weyr >---------------------------------------------------<
Fort's Kitchen is a large, well-appointed cavern that is designed for
efficiency. Granite counters, smoothed and polished through turns of use,
are tucked between the banks of stoves and ovens that share a wall with
the Living Cavern's hearth. A swinging door at the end of the hearth area
leads into the Living Cavern for easy set up and service of meals.
Additional workspace is available at half a dozen marble-topped, wooden
islands that line the middle of the Kitchen beneath hanging racks of
copper pots, pans, and other equipment. Each island has drawers that hold
smaller equipment like spoons, whisks, and rolling pins. Supplies are kept
on shelves along the walls with bulkier items available in Stores through
another swinging door at the back of the Kitchen. A row of utility sinks
line the wall beside that door for food prep and dishwashing.
The Kitchen is busy almost all day, the only exception being typically
between midnight and four in the morning when the bread bakers go on duty
to bake the daily bread. Though the baby dragons are getting older and schedules are becoming more set, they're still growing at that astounding rate that keeps their lifemates deprived of a solid night of sleep. Reisoth might have felt the quickly controlled panic that escaped the young queen upon waking but between now and when Dee wet appears in the kitchen to answer the call of her own stomach there was tending to the dragon's needs, as evidenced by the oiled sheen to her forearms and stains on her relaxed clothes (that have now seen better days). There are few about at this hour and for all that Dee is reluctant to interrupt those minding the hearths for help getting a plate together, they seem unbothered, perhaps even a little tender toward the wan brunette with her oil stains and the darkness under her eyes. They direct her to warm her hands by the hearth and dry herself after passing through the cold rain outside. The towel they give her isn't one of the fluffy ones from the baths, but she takes it gratefully to rub though her short wet hair. Reisoth might be loitering on the rim of Fort's bowl, but H'vier isn't currently being entertained by, or entertaining, Fort's Weyrwoman. He's approaching the hearth, not wet. Perhaps he's already been entertained. Or he was turned away for more important business, if there could be more important business at this hour. Whatever the case, H'vier is here and he's seen the Weyr's newest goldrider. "I'm just looking for klah," he tells the first person who seems reluctant to feed a foreign rider, possibly just this foreign rider in particular, granted. Then he asides with some amusement for Dee's sake, "That little queen of yours is a handful, isn't she." Dee's eyes draw to the foreign bronzerider when he speaks and she stills mid-hair-scrub. She uses the towel to pull forward so it briefly hides her face before being pulled away. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to take that, sir." And there's the respectful salute that at least seems genuinely so. "She sleeps less than some and grows a lot, so oiling and feeding but less of that since they can hunt now," if not catch. "Is that-- what you meant?" She's only guessing. A mug of klah is pushed into H'vier's hands. It's probably an attempt to get him to move on his way, but he's busy looking at Dee, so he lingers. He seems somewhat disappointed by her response, so he dismisses it with a wave of his free hand. "Never mind. The way Reisoth's spoken of her, I didn't expect you to be so..." He doesn't finish the sentence, gesturing at her for a moment. Then, "You're nice to look at, anyway. That's something. It's a shame when they pick homely girls." Dee's eyelashes flutter in the face of H'vier's words. She looks at him as if she might not have heard him right, or perhaps she's just so tired that she's imagining pigs in the guise of bronzeriders. "I'm sorry. Am I still asleep?" She actually asks him, the skin between her brows pinching together as they draw down and she squints at him. At least she's giving him the benefit of the doubt. "If you were asleep, darling, neither of us would be wearing any clothes." Or maybe that's if H'vier were asleep. Not that he has to be asleep to imagine that sort of thing. Not even a little bit. "It's Dee, isn't it?" Of course it is. Who on Pern doesn't know Dee's name now? "We met briefly at your hatching feast. H'vier. Bronze Reisoth's." In case she doesn't know his name somehow. H'vier's answer makes Dee's head cant and give him a disbelieving look. Evidently, she is willing to believe she's not asleep, but that probably has nothing to do with the presence of their clothes. "You make a poor first impression," she tells him with pinched lips and raised brows. "The second isn't any better, Wingleader. Would you like a do-over?" This is probably a one-time offer. Could he even do better if he was trying? "So you do know who I am." H'vier sounds just a little bit smug about that. And he's grinning openly now. "I wish I'd met you before she did. It would be easier to gauge if you'd been more fun." The bronzerider takes a sip of his klah before continuing. "I apologize if I've offended you, weyrwoman. I have no intention of attempting to seduce you for a variety of reasons. I'm harmless, I promise." There. Is that better? "I kind of wish I didn't," Dee answers with a sigh. No, the do-over didn't seem to help. She reaches up a hand to scrub her face with a hand as if just standing here with him is making her exhausted (it's authentic because she really is exhausted for entirely different reasons). "I can't imagine that our ideas of fun have much in the way of overlap, sir. I'm happy to assure that you'd be wasting your time even if you didn't have your reasons," which thank Faranth, he does, her tone implies. "Perhaps we can just go back to not knowing one another?" She proposes, tone verging on hopeful as she looks back to the flames of the hearth and then over her shoulder to see where her food might be. "That seems unlikely," H'vier says in regards to their ideas of fun. "And I don't think not knowing each other is an entirely valid option. Even if you pretend you don't know me, I'm expected to know you." Of her, at any rate. "You can't really blame me for finding you attractive, can you?" That might be a rhetorical question because he raises his voice slightly to the kitchen staff. "Will you get the girl her food already? She's got enough to deal with." Without adding their incompetence. He doesn't say that out loud, but it's implied well enough in his tone of voice. "You can't really blame me for not being the least bit interested, can you?" Dee's patience is waning, though her brows only lift to make her hazel eyes wider as she regards him. He can see, can't he? Her expression indicates it should be obvious. "Is it the color of my lifemate or the fact that I'm the subject of rumor," a fact that has her whole frame tensing subtly, "that makes you think you have the right to talk about me, to me as if I'm not a person?" She asks before adding with a tone that indicates he's about to cross an invisible line (if he hadn't been working on that already), "And leave them alone. It's very kind of them to accommodate me at this hour." It's worded stiffly. "And I'm in no rush. Are you?" She probably hopes so. "I tried making polite small talk, sweetheart. You're the one who started off bitchy. None of this," he gestures between them, "has been looking for any interest in you spreading your legs for me." H'vier sounds kind of annoyed now. Offended, even, maybe. "I'll just assume that sleep deprivation is making you stupid and try not to hold it against you in the future." With that the bronzerider starts to turn away. But he seems to think better of it part way through the turn, coming back to top off his klah. Dee's face says she really can't believe she's having this conversation. Still, it doesn't stop her from stepping into his path, actual vexation registering in her face and the way her hands plant on her hips. "Is calling me sweetheart supposed to make it alright that you first insult my lifemate and then me? Should I assume it's all the late nights you've been putting in that have robbed you of anything resembling common sense or courtesy?" "I never insulted your sharding dragon you uppity--" Breathe, H'vier. Just breathe. The bronzerider closes his eyes for a moment, trying his best to take a deep breath and let it back out again before he continues. He looks down at the weyrling, his expression more neutral than his lingering tension. His voice is calm, though, when he says, "Get out of my way, girl." "First it's weyrwoman, then sweetheart, then girl," Dee observes as she steps out of his way, her hands dropping away. How will she ever keep up? "If you want that do-over, you let me know." She offers to his back (assuming he does walk away). The kitchen help, wisely, waits for the figurative curtain before approaching with the meal she came for. "Don't forget 'bitch'," H'vier reminds her over his shoulder, even if that one was accused of her a little less explicitly, on his way out toward the living caverns where there are presumably people who won't test his anger management quite so much. « Does he really want to be hated that badly? » Taeliyth inquires of the visiting bronze. He didn't miss the show just because it's late, did he? (To Reisoth from Taeliyth) To Taeliyth, Reisoth has been paying attention, wide awake on the rim. It's kind of his thing. « What do you think? » It's not sarcastic. Far from it. Reisoth is curious to know Taeliyth's take on their riders' interaction. « I think he's an idiot, » unsurprisingly. It is rather one of her 'go to' opinions. « But he's your idiot, » which gives Taeliyth pause to think. « Did you know he was one when you chose him? » (To Reisoth from Taeliyth) To Taeliyth, Reisoth doesn't disagree with her opinion and he doesn't seem offended by it, either. « I knew who he was when I chose him. Just as I'm sure you knew who she was when you chose her. We don't make mistakes. » Of that even the cynical bronze is quite sure. To Reisoth, Taeliyth is less sure. « Don't we? My idiot is... » Well, an idiot. Not where it comes to his idiot, obviously, but... « Are you an idiot? » The question isn't meant to be inflammatory, though that's not entirely outside the realm of Reisoth's interactions with others. (To Taeliyth from Reisoth) To Reisoth, Taeliyth's return is a wry, « I'm sure I have my moments. » If they're all lucky, Impression wasn't one of them. To Taeliyth, Reisoth can accept that the young queen has her moments, certainly. But he'll assure her, « Trust your judgment. You didn't make a mistake. If she'd not been suitable for you, you would have gone between. » This must be his pep talk. « You must be an interesting dragon for him to be the one who was suitable for you, » Taeliyth observes, a little amused. « Doesn't he know how to treat women well? » (To Reisoth from Taeliyth) To Taeliyth, Reisoth considers before speaking of the bronzerider's treatment of women. « Certainly, he is capable. And I can assure you that he hadn't been trying to insult you, » he adds, though he doesn't say the same of Dee. « He's aware that I enjoy you. » There's a very intentional pause before Taeliyth asks too innocently, « Is he aware that dragons are package deals? She with me, you with him, » just examples in case the concept is lost on the rider in question. (To Reisoth from Taeliyth) There's a mental sigh from the bronze, but he attempts to continue rather than withdraw from her increasingly pointless, from his perspective, questions. « Obviously. He hadn't expected her to react so poorly to his greeting. He'd been hoping for a pleasant conversation. » Not what actually happened. (To Taeliyth from Reisoth) To Reisoth, Taeliyth's amusement piques just a little at the sigh, at the need for attempt. « Tell him not to waste his next chance. » It's friendly advice. That's what they are, right? Friends? Her touch vanishes as she lets it be felt that Dahlia has returned to the barracks, to their space, their new space, annoyingly distant from their old space, and it's time for sleep once more. |
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