Logs:Sleepover
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| RL Date: 31 August, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis, Faryn |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Shit-talking sleepover the day Irianke returns to the weyr from her vacation |
| Where: Edyis' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions, T'mic/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated! And feel free to edit! |
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| Tonight the elevator dragon is blue, and a little too grouchy for what must be the end of his rotation; his rider looks haggard too, and Faryn rounds it out by looking utterly sleepy. Not exhausted; just a bit like she hasn't slept enough or as deeply as she'd like, though it hasn't stopped her running around the weyr on tiny errands, save when she disappears for hours at a time into Farideh's company for whatever they're up to. It could be witchcraft; you wouldn't know. Either way, the blue drops the woman without an announcement to the ledge owner, just grumbles as Faryn clears his wing and does a strange, somersaulting fall back towards the bowl, opening his wings too late but not plowing into the ground, so - good. The once-herder puffs her bangs out of her eyes and strides to the door. "Well. This is...fortified." And she raises her hand to knock. The ledge is mostly empty, but to judge from the track marks in the snow, it's been recently vacated. Akluseth's rumble can be heard first as the slight creak of metal protests against the snow. Edyis peeks around the corner, looking slightly mussed, but mostly presentable in that tunic that is obviously not hers, and hastily thrown on pajama pants, complete with fluffy sheep. "Oh, hey Faryn." She grins crookedly, pushing the door open enough for the former herder to slip through. Akluseth gives her the eye from his couch, something almost apologetic in his study of Faryn. Hastily Edyis combs fingers through dark curls, "Hungry? Thirsty?" Making her way over to the fire over which a small pot simmers, humming as she does. "Damned winter. Feels like we never quite get a proper autumn." "That's because we don't," grouses Faryn without any true vehemence. She's not quite bundled, just a light jacket more suited to runners than dragons, but she keeps it on as she slides past the entrance and watches it closed behind her. "Hi, Akluseth," is absent, but, "Is that klah? If it's klah, I'll take it." Then, pausing, "Can I crash here tonight? Wait, do you snore?" Edyis blinks at the request, but then shrugs. "Hot spiced cider actually, but I can start up some Klah if you want it." The scribe admits, and at snoring she eyes the older woman. "Let's see, you were in the dorms with me, but I'm still going to say no," Stretching a little as she sets the pot on, and moves to a clothes press to fish out an extra set of pajamas, these are green with little dragons painted on, setting them on the couch for the herder. "Those should fit, might be a little short on you though." Moving back to the pot, then to stir the contents while she lifts the lid on another and fills a bowl with what smells like a stew. "Want to talk about it?" Akluseth rumbles cheerily enough in greeting before settling back down his eyes swirling pleasantly. Faryn leans forward, a few steps closer to the pot with her hands behind her back as she peers into it. "Also perfectly acceptable as an alternative," she says, inhaling the wafting scent of sweet spices, waving off the idea she should start anything else. She roots around for a mug, and if they're available she takes one up to fill it, curling her hands around it. "That was a long time ago," of being in barracks together, and "Wasn't it summer just yesterday? Just a tiny transition, that's all I want. I'd like to see a single leaf change color before it snows." The pajamas are eyed with a certain amount of amusement, but her answer encompasses only the brownrider's question, no tany theories on why she has cutesy sleepwear. "Not much to talk about. I just don't sleep well. Insomnia was easier to manage when I slept in the hayloft. And," pointed, "Irianke came back today." Edyis smiles filling both mugs, "Rek hasn't complained so I stand by my no." She gestures to the cabinets, "Help yourself to whatever you like." Snagging a pair of rolls from a basket and crossing the space to the quilt covered couch, plopping the bowl on an end table to cool. "Yes, well at least Akluseth smells better than the stables." She notes wryly, and there's a pause at the mention of the Weyrwoman's name. "You sound less than pleased, or am I reading too much into that?" "Rek," Faryn goads, teasing. "You sigh when you say his name. Lovesick, it's disgusting." Again, no malice; she is holding her mug close and just inhaling the warmth of it, not drinking and not moving now that she's been given reason to stay still. "I don't need much. Just a couch, really. I'll be gone first thing in the morning." And for Irianke? A shrug. "I feel indifferent. She's just high maintenance. More work for Farideh means more work for me. The slope is very slippery, don't you know?" Edyis laughs, a rich and airy sound. "I do not." Which may or may not be accurate, though the faint flush of color to her cheeks probably isn't the cider. "I seem to remember a certain bluerider who has an empty bed." Teasing back, amusement plain in her soft soprano voice, though Edyis is far from serious. "Relax Faryn, I wouldn't have offered if I minded. I remember all too well what it is like not having space of your own." There's a arch of one dark brow as she sips her cider. "Perhaps more so than Azaylia ever was, but she's effective which is what counts. Farideh isn't exactly mature enough to take over the burden of weyrleading yet, and I say that with the greatest affection for the girl." When Faryn decides to take a seat, it's on the arm of the couch, near that cooling bowl of stew. A drink of that cider, then she's putting the cup down beside it and working at the laces of her boots, chuckling quietly before it stops abruptly at Edyis' inference. One boot off, switch, fingers nimble over shoelaces. "Yes, well, if you're sharing your space with Rek," another imitative sigh, "then I suppose I feel less like I'm invading. Sometimes I think I should have just...stayed with the craft. At least a Journeyman knot would have given me my own room. The things we do for privacy." Maybe she didn't hear that bit about a bluerider. "Farideh did fine while Irianke was gone. I know it was only a week, but - she will be good at it. She's good now. It'll just take practice." The former scribe watches Faryn over her mug ruefully, but there's a smirk, "Think of it as karma for the turns I spent crashing Savannah couches." Listening as she drinks, "Well if you need a space you can escape to, you are welcome here, there's a cupboard over there that's empty." She tilts her head then, perhaps picking up on the gloss over, "You two lovebirds have a row?" Of Farideh the brownrider lifts a hand, "Let her get the experience she needs first. Without the pressure, everyone looking to her or judging her by impossible standards. You really would wish the senior knot on her? On anyone?" "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Irianke just makes me..." pause. "Uncomfortable, is all. It's probably nothing." Faryn's other boot pops off and is set next to the first, then nudged back to remove it as an obstacle. "I appreciate it." Then, "Something like that. Not a fight, really? I think," a contemplative beat while she looks at her mug, the bowl of stew, and takes up the latter without checking if it is Ed's; nom, "when I really look at it, we were agreeing? But it felt like we weren't." "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Irianke just makes me..." pause. "Uncomfortable, is all. It's probably nothing." Faryn's other boot pops off and is set next to the first, then nudged back to remove it as an obstacle. "I appreciate it." Then, "Something like that. Not a fight, really? I think," a contemplative beat while she looks at her mug, the bowl of stew, and takes up the latter without checking if it is Ed's; nom, "when I really look at it, we were agreeing? But it felt like we weren't." "She should." Edyis says of discomfort. "She is capable, clever, and not without ambition. Anyone in her position should put your teeth a little on edge. The question becomes what will she do if or when she has the knot without the acting. " Pushing to her feet, Edyis goes to procure another bowl since hers was pilfered. "In that respect she's every bit a Reachian weyrwoman. If you believe the histories and rumors anyway ." Something akin to admiration in the young woman's voice as she stirs the bowl and moves back to sink into the couch, of Faryn's defense of Farideh there's a wry smile. "Loyalty does that, looks like Farideh found herself a decent assistant." Her lips curling at the edges wryly. When Faryn doesn't quite elaborate on the situation with the bluerider, she prompts, "Not a fight and yet here you are, when you could be utilizing your own personal bedwarmer in this weather." A pause, "Not that I'm complaining." There's an apologetic sound from Faryn's quarter, where she is still shoveling stew into her mouth. It's probably meant to acknowledge folly, but there are several bites before she speaks again and it's not to mention the bowl she's stolen. "Its not like that. Azaylia didn't put my teeth on edge; it's not a requisite of the job to be unsettling." There's a shrug for the rest, though lowly over her spoon before it dives into her mouth again, she will utter, "An Igen weyrwoman, is what she is. She won't be Reachian unless Niahvth makes her senior." Of her own role, Faryn snorts lightly. "She hasn't fired me; I'm doing alright, I wager. It keeps me busy." And for the rest? Gosh, this stew is delicious, is this your mother's recipe? Eventually, though, "It's not that cold. We need space, is all." "Azaylia wasn't as effective as she could have been." The brownrider notes, amused by the noises. There's a shrug, "Farideh is too, if you want to play that card. And Farideh has arguably stronger ties to Igen." The former scribe notes digging into her own bowl now, dipping a roll into the stew. "But the work suits you? Ledgers, politics, parties, grand events and lower caverns dramas?" It doesn't sound as though Edyis believes it to be all that engrossing. Faryn's brow quirks up. "First Farideh, now you. What makes you all so smitten with her?" Surely this is a hangover position, from the most recent clutch, but even so, "People I trust, with experience...I don't think she's what you all think. Her experience makes her the better option but even then--" The spoon pauses in its rote path, and her other eyebrow joins the first. "Stronger? How so? There's not much stronger connection than an Igenite weyrwomen, and definitely not some brat from Igen." There's prickly warmth, or something like it, in her choice of words for Farideh. Her expression pinches. "It's useful work. Good work. I don't care for the parties, when they come. Maybe not the rest enough to do it forever, but it's...better than my old work." "It isn't so much smitten, as much as she is what the Weyr needs right now." Edyis plays counterpoint, though she is willing to ask, "What do you believe we think she is?" She wonders, before talk of stronger ties has Edyis shrugging. "Take notice of the things that have changed since she impressed." With a note of finality to it, suggesting that this is all the more the scribe will say on Farideh's Igenite heritage. Faryn's expression pinching has the former scribe laughing brightly, setting down her bowl to sip from the mug of cider nearby. "Embrace the fact that you have a choice in your occupation for as long as you can." "I think, sometimes, that Farideh would walk off a cliff for her. Not you. But if you look at this outside of it, like I did, do... She wants to be senior here badly enough they were saying she was asking around. For potential people. The last thing this place needs is another rigged flight." Faryn finishes her stew, scrapes the bowl, licks the spoon clean and waves it. "You mean, besides the knot, the gold dragon, the clothes, the need for an assistant? The private bath." All superficial, and yet it is almost certain she's filed the suggestion away for later. "Hell, if things go the way I've come to anticipate, I'll do it the rest of my life. Hanson won't have me back, and I don't doubt any of the other crafts would want me either. Not that I'd want them." Edyis smirks darkly, "So you truly believe that a dragon's sex drive should be the best and only determining factor when it comes to leadership capability?" A beat. "The clothes are probably one of the things I would look at." She admits, "Or the people who come to visit her." Leaving that thought to simmer. There's a shrug for Hanson, "Doesn't mean you can't explore things." There's a blink and a thought as she continues eating. "I would take this opportunity to get to know Irianke better too. Not just for Farideh's sake, you don't have to like someone to learn from them." "You never met someone who just felt wrong in your gut?" counters Faryn, setting her bowl off to the side after a brief moment regarding the pot and the option for seconds. "I'm no dragonrider, You think K'del doesn't deserve his knot? Or are you suggesting Irianke deserves to break a paradigm?" Neutral. Even moreso for the suggestion she get to know Irianke further. Maybe she'll have seconds, after all. "I have learned that blind trust of a gut instinct gets you into more trouble than carefully looking at the options." Regarding Faryn thoughtfully for the comment, her tone lacking anything sharp or argumentative. "Ask K'del sometime about what it was like being weyrleader when he first caught the senior queen, as a teenager." She notes with a wry twist of expression. Edyis goes on to add; "Of course I believe he deserves it, though I can also understand why Irianke would be seeking a replacement." She tilts her head then thoughtfully, "She isn't wrong, he's divided between his duty to the weyr and his family. Though," She hesitates, "Part of me can't help but wonder if some of her argument isn't rooted in jealousy of one kind or another." Apparently trusting Faryn to understand that none of what is said will go any further than the weyr, and that opinion and debate is encouraged. Especially since she's looking to the older woman expectantly. From the stew pot, which she's stirring and not ladling out just yet, probably soaking up the warmth of the fire, Faryn rebuts, "And I've learned that no amount of planning is going to make your solution go the way you want it to." Now she finally serves herself up, half a bowl that she blows on while she chooses words. "There's a certain lack of humbleness in choosing a successor before you're even certain you're in a position to decide. If a Hold heir did it, I'd fully expect to find his father dead within the month." A frown; a bite to test the temperature and then, after a small hiss, more blowing on the steaming supper, "I think there is a difference between being willing and capable, and wanting to have that power. It says things about a person who wants it. Not much of it good." All, of course, by her regard, as demonstrated by a hitch of the shoulder. "You think she's jealous of Ali?" "No it isn't." Edyis replies a touch rueful, resuming her meal. "I'm hardly saying she is perfect, but given the options, she is what we have. She's hardly choosing a successor either, even a rigged flight can go awry." Something a touch bitter in her voice with that. "Irianke isn't a humble woman, not that she's arrogant either, Farideh would be a better judge truthfully. Besides who of us has never been ambitious." Sipping from her mug with the thought. "I don't know. She has so many faces, it would be better to ask Farideh on those grounds." There's a smugness in Faryn's smile when she notes, "But you wouldn't be surprised to find her trying to rig a flight," and there is finality there. It's not a question. Of ambition, Faryn raises her hand (spoon included) like a very good pupil. "I haven't, Okay, fine." Hand down. "I have. Once. Twice, unless you and I are on the same page that standing more than once is actually just masochism." And then there it is, the timing on it odd because Faryn manages to get a bite into her mouth and must MMM! adamantly around her bite while she chews, pointing her spoon animatedly until, "That's it. Why do you need so many faces if you're on the up? We talked the other day, and she was perfectly fine...until she slipped. Or, it seemed like she slipped. I'm supposed to be learning, that mask. Smile all the time, be polite, but my face is prone to telling people what I think of them. Hers is prone to telling people what they want to hear." "I wouldn't be surprised to find anyone trying to rig a flight, Faryn." She arches a brow, "It is perfectly natural to work to stack the cards in your favor." She exhales then softly, a chuckle escaping at the idea of standing being masochistic. "Wanting to go through weyrlinghood is masochism." The once-scribe answers ruefully. "I hope you never land in a position where you have to deal with the blooded lords and ladies. The higher you climb the softer the egos and the more easily they bruise." It's possibly her explanation for the necessity of masks. "She slipped?" Curious now, moving to refill her own bowl. "That says more about her character than anything you've said defending it." Faryn moves towards the couch, sits on the arm, and then very gracelessly slides off and flops into a sitting positon leaned with the bowl balanced carefully. "I don't want to go through weyrlinghood. I want to go through life, and if that includes weyrlinghood, then so be it. If not, so be that too." She leans awkwardly for her mug of cider, drains it, then goes back to her stew, nearly supine as she shovels the second bowl. She laughs. "I figure if people like R'hin can do it, I can manage." And of Irianke, "Slipped that mask, just a little. She was being very civil and then she was being very, very cool, between words, felt like." "It isn't about the quality of her character, it's about what Reaches needs at the moment." But Edyis lets it go. When R'hin is mentioned, there is a twist of odd expression, and after a beat; "Even he has his masks, he's just very good at disguising them." Worry lines appearing briefly before melting away. "That sounds about accurate, at least when a subject she isn't happy to broach is touched upon." Those worry lines returning. "She thought I was sleeping with Farideh," Faryn says blandly, flicking her spoon against the back of her leg and wholly content not to discuss quality of anyone's character; at least one of those people kidnapped her, so perhaps it's all best left alone. "I broached nothing." Edyis blinks at that, trying to contain a burble of laughter. "I'm sorry, but just - I can't ever picture Farideh bedding a woman unless it was flight induced, and even then doesn't she have that one sailor? What's his name... Drex?" Edyis tilts her head, "I thought I heard he was back in the Weyr for some reason." "She really meant it, too," Faryn says, eyeballing Edyis with her head hanging half off the couch, bowl forgotten. "I told her no, obviously because -- all that. Drex and Farideh being Farideh, but also because it's true, but. It makes me think she thinks everyone is plotting something. Or she is. It's just weird." And then, "He's here. I, ah. Well, I don't know why, his ship isn't here from what I hear, but he's staying in her weyr. Winter's close enough anyway; he'd be back soon enough, sailing like that." "This is the woman who has been rumored to be bedding Jo." She shrugs, trying to conceal the smirk that is just lingering there. "She seems to change partners pretty regularly." Irianke not Farideh. Talk of the dirty sailor has Edyis sighing. "Maybe he just missed her?" Because that would be a nice thought right? Because some couples can have that harper tale whirlwind romance where things work out and don't end in disappointment, right? Faryn's grunt is noncommittal about that rumor. "I don't care who she fucks," too vulgar, but it adequately expresses her feelings on many levels, "just --" Beat. "I'll try to get to know her, or learn from her, or whatever. Only to help Farideh." Happy? Theories on why Drex returned are mum; there are plenty of rumors about that, too, and she's never been great at gossip. "Everything ends in disappointment, eventually," Faryn says with a cynic's smile, making it hard to tell if she's being entirely dour or just mockingly so. "Just depends how quick it comes." "You don't even have to like her." Edyis states with something wry and soft in her smile at the concession. The last draws something somber across her face, and there is a sigh. "Maybe, but it is still nice every once in a while to believe there is such a thing as a happy ending." Glancing to the fire and the brown. Getting up to collect the bowls and deposit them in the sink, rinsing them out. Faryn is yawning, so the least Edyis will get is her quiet, "Thanks," as the bowl's collected, and the once-crafter maneuvers herself deftly on the couch, so she's actually lying on it properly with only her feet propped on the arm. Temporarily. A few moments that way and she pushes herself flat on the couch, grabbing a pillow to tuck under her head. "Thanks for letting me crash here, too." It's unspoken that they have early mornings, and moreover that Faryn's tired now that she's really stopped moving. Her blinks are already coming slower. "No harm hoping for happy endings, I suppose. You'll be pleasantly surprised when they happen." Edyis tugs out a few extra quilts from a cabinet then setting them on the arm of the couch just in case before stirring up the fire and lowering her bed. "You are welcome Faryn, sleep well." And it isn't long before Edyis too drifts off. |
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