Logs:Stabable Bronzeriders
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| RL Date: 24 August, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, H'vier, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Faryn doesn't eat with one bronzerider she might need to stab with her fork and one that she probably doesn't (right now anyway). |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. The lunch hour has dwindled from rush to steady trickles of people weaving in and out of the large caverns, and the low and steady noise from so many voices has rendered each individual conversation into a steady din of sound between the clatter of plates and cutlery. It is, daresay, a pleasant atmosphere of general, if partitioned, camaraderie, and Faryn's amongst it with a plate that holds a sandwich and some tubers, all mostly untouched, while she wears a beleaguered expression thanks to her tablemate: an apprentice beastcrafter, as it were, who talks more with his hands and doesn't stop chewing for words. Her nose twitches in distaste, and relief floods her features when he says, "I'll be right back. I need more food," and swipes his plate up to trek to the serving tables. Her shoulders lose some of their rigidity, and she finally spears a tuber. For the last several sevens, H'vier's presence in the living caverns has been rare, if anyone were to pay attention to that sort of thing. When he's been here, it's been a short in and out to get food, maybe stop by any gathering of his wing, then off to somewhere more quiet. Today, he lingers, but it's not with his wing that he sits when he finally does. It's near Faryn, if not with her. Because he's probably not looking for that much interaction. Never mind that he definitely looks at her the way anyone would expect H'vier to look at any reasonably attractive female. What are bronzeriders for if not for coming to the aid of damsels clearly in conversational distress? Perhaps nothing, not even that. K'zin does however slide into the recently vacated seat with a flash of a smile as he sets his own plate down. "Faryn, hey." He arrives just after H'vier, though apparently he hadn't paid attention to the other bronzerider taking the seat as he seems a little more surprised to offer, "H'vier, hey," next, thusly ensuring a triangle of talk has begun. K'zin is dressed down, no leathers, just comfortable clothes for being out and about on this late summer day. "How goes?" is a question more directed toward Faryn, but certainly extended to H'vier by grace of proximity and K'zin's impeccable manners (that include chewing with his mouth closed, as he proves in the coming moments). A body sliding into the seat across from her pulls Faryn rigid again, just for a minute, only until she registers K'zin's face and voice, at which point she replaces all that undue stress with a quick smile and quick chewing so she can say, "K'zin!" with what seems to be genuine enthusiasm. A little less, then, for H'vier, who she doesn't quite like having on her blind side and warrants an adjustment of her chair. Better triangle for conversation. "You can join us," she offers, his plan to not be engaged thwarted. "It goes," Faryn says evenly, with a little shrug. "It always keeps going, doesn't it? How does it feel to just be a rider again, not a weyrlingmaster?" The older bronzerider's first response is a grunt, which is probably meant to be some sort of acknowledgement of the greeting rather than one of his own. He seems, at first, like he might not engage despite their secondary efforts, but then H'vier sighs, sliding his plate closer, but not uncomfortably close. Faryn can thank him later. While they work on the beginnings of small talk, the wingleader eats his food and looks more at the girl than the other bronzerider when he isn't looking at his plate. "It does at that," K'zin agrees with Faryn before casting his dark gaze back toward the wordless wingleader. "Something eating you?" He asks, a curious lift of brows directed to H'vier before he answers Faryn between bites, "Strange after having them for so long. Strange to be on vacation." Faryn watches H'vier move his plate, her hand at the edge of her own like she's prepared to scoot down a ways, but that doesn't become necessary when he finally settles, even if he acts like they're pulling teeth. "You don't have to," she tells him on the tail of that heavy sigh. Another tuber, this one cut in half as she grins. "Strange but good, I hope," for the weyrlings, then she pops the tuber in her mouth to give H'vier a once-over. Twice over. A slender brow goes up at K'zin's question, and she's all ears for whatever answer might come, even if she focuses her eyes on her sandwich, eventually. The younger man's question earns a briefly dangerous look from H'vier before he can smooth it back into neutrality. Instead of answering K'zin, though, which would surely be made up entirely of unkind words, his jaw tenses, releases, and he says calmly to Faryn, "I know. But I'm here now." And he's apparently not inclined to move again. The lift of K'zin's brows indicate genuine confusion on the younger bronzerider's part at the look H'vier gives him. He meets the man's gaze only a moment before his eyes drop back to his plate. Rather than address the older man again, he clears his throat and bobs his head in a nod to Faryn, "Yeah, so far. Took Tela down to Healer Hall for a few days of post-weyrling pampering. Going camping later this seven. Mielline wanted to give the weyrlings a chance to settle into the wing before I joined up for the off-season." He glances toward the young woman, "What's keeping you busy these days?" "Oh, good," Faryn says with a sigh at H'vier, a roll of the eyes landing her gaze steadily on him however much it's sidelong. She seems to lack the self-preservation that K'zin has, saying, "Now you can sit there and...what are you, brooding?" As for what's keeping her busy, Faryn makes a sound in the back of her throat. "Farideh, mostly." H'vier seems... appreciative? of K'zin's willingness to leave him be. But Faryn has to go and ruin the moment. His attention turns fully on her again, brows furrowed as though he's not quite sure what to make of her. Or if his temper will hold. "You're not a very bright one are you." It's not a question. "Very well." The bronzerider starts to move, sliding closer to the girl with every intention of reaching out to rest his arm around her shoulders in order to inhibit her ability to move away. And, you know, invade her personal space. "Is this better, sweetheart? You can get in my lap, if you'd like." "H'vier!" It's an instinctive reaction that draws K'zin out of his chair, jaw tight and eyes narrowed at the larger man. There's warning in the wingleader's name, and though the younger man's fists have clenched at his sides, he's not yet trying to fight Faryn's battle for her - though surely if she gives him any sign he should, he will. Faryn's laugh and, "I'm smart enough, I just figure this is what we get for inviting--" is clipped off when H'vier moves. Remember that rigidity from earlier? It's back in full force, winding Faryn so tight her jaw clenches and begins ticking at the joint. Her fork slides through her fingers until she's gripping it much differently than it's intended. "You'll wanna move that arm," she bites through teeth that barely move, that touch of Tillek accent leaking in; she's probably not as cool in her head as she sounds when she speaks. "I figure I don't even have to aim to ruin your day." It's difficult to ignore K'zin barking his name like that, but H'vier's gaze doesn't shift away from Faryn. Especially not since she's trying to arm herself. He's been stabbed often enough to know he doesn't like it very much. "She's a feisty one, isn't she. I like that in a woman." And since that, somehow, seemed to be directed at K'zin more than her, his next words aim to change that. "My day was ruined when I woke up this morning." H'vier releases her, though, shifting to rise in the next moment, picking up his plate and looking at the other bronzerider. "I could use your services sometime soon, K'zin." And then the wingleader is turning to leave the pair to their small talk. The way K'zin looks at H'vier goes from glare to some implication that H'vier may have completely lost his marbles. He doesn't move though, not with Faryn taking care of herself, even if he doesn't necessarily feel like he can sit back down until the wingleader is turning to leave, and even then he remains standing until H'vier has departed, asking as he watches the wingleader, "Are you okay, Faryn?" Faryn is stiff all until H'vier grabs his things, motionless for the most part save watching the big man get his plate and turn away. Her brows are knit tightly, but her grip relaxes on the fork enough for her to put it down with fingers that are not so steady when they're not white-knuckling her fork. Nothing like a little assault to ruin your composure, after all. "Asshole," she growls, shoving her plate away in disgust, like it's personally affronted her. "Fucking asshole..." she starts a blue streak swearing tirade under her breath, doing her best not to glare in H'vier's wake until K'zin's question breaks in. For him, she musters a smile, humourless. "I just have a little sleaze on my shirt, is all. That'll teach me." Perhaps wisely, K'zin doesn't make any move to offer physical comfort, but he does take his seat again, glancing in the direction of the departed bronzerider. "Asshole is right." He agrees it with feeling. "Do you want to report him? I'll go with you." The fact that he's offering moral support and not to track the bigger man down and pick a fight with him is an obvious sign of maturity. "If we're lucky, maybe he will have a better day tomorrow by not waking up at all," Faryn says with a sigh and a shake of the head. "That wouldn't do any good. I imagine he collects the reports and keeps them in a photobook in his weyr for posterity. If he hasn't stopped now, that'll just be proving he won." "Maybe," K'zin reaches a hand to rub the back of his neck. He sounds less than convinced and then sighs. "Alright." He concedes to her wishes, but uneasily. His fork picks at his plate for some moments before he's setting the fork down and shifting the plate away. "Do you think you could be spared from your duties tomorrow?" Faryn watches him poke his food, not giving her own a second look and eventually paling slightly as her stomach rejects the very idea of food. "I'll think about reporting it," she says in the wake of his discomfort, which is maybe just a little better. "Maybe. Depends what for." "You should do whatever's right for you," K'zin tells her earnestly. "In the meantime, you look like you could use a day off. Why don't you go with Tela to healer tomorrow? I'd scheduled another massage just in case they were too addictive to stay away after a few days. I can get ready for my camping trip and you ladies can enjoy yourselves. They might even be able to fit in some girlier things. Like... nails. And hair." He squints a little as if unsure of these are acceptably girly options. "My treat." It's possible he's feeling bronzerider guilt on behalf of bronzerider-kind. Faryn makes a small sound of appreciation for the offer, but she lifts a hand to wave it off nonetheless. "I don't know I've been subjected to Farideh's tyranny enough for a day off, already. And I don't...do....girly," she adds, slow and careful, like she's weighing the words for truthfulness. A nod confirms they are. "I appreciate it though, truly. You're a friendly reminder that not every bronzerider makes me want to stab him with my fork." Even though she's reaching for hers now, and her plate too. K'zin's eyes close briefly, but he manages not to wince. "Yeah, sorry." Not, probably, that he doesn't make her want to stab him, but rather that there are those who do. "If you get a day off and want to go somewhere just to be away and need just a ride, let me know." He offers in lieu of what she won't let him gift her. "I will," she assures, with a glance around the room to make sure she won't summarily run into H'vier, whose departure she's lost track of. "It's not your job to apologize for him. Or anyone else. Don't worry about it, please." With no sign of H'vier, Faryn pushes her chair out to stand. "I'd probably better get back anyways. Have a safe camping trip, K'zin. Don't fall down a hill or anything stupid." Instead of answering with some appropriately polite small-talk or another, K'zin finds himself on his feet again to say hurriedly, "Faryn-- if there's been a flight, avoid me after, okay?" It might seem a weird thing to say, but there's K'zin being that weird bronzerider that doesn't make women want to stab him with a fork (most of the time). The suddenness of the request elicits a bemused laugh, one that you give to kids who ask silly questions. Indulgent, is the word. "Sure thing," Faryn agrees, taking the request with a grain of salt. "Might be hard, all those greens, but sure. Later, K'zin." She turns then, lifting her plate in lieu of a wave so she can go dump her things, and disappear into the caverns beyond. Faryn might be taking this lightly, but the way K'zin looks after her with a distinctly worried countenance says that he's taking it as anything but. He looks uneasy as he collects his plate and moves to place it (even with so much food left on it) in the collection bin before moving toward the bowl. |
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