Logs:Pillow Foray
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| RL Date: 5 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh needs pillows. H'vier is there to help. |
| Where: Storerooms, High Reaches Weyr / Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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| The open stores are relatively empty at the moment. It's H'vier in the further of the two caverns with a pile of worn furs at his feet while he rummages through the ones that are still shelved. His body language is tense, perhaps annoyed with the selection of furs. Or maybe it's the tension in the air that's bothering him. Either way, he's not paying much attention to anything but the blankets he's swearing at under his breath. High Reaches' youngest queen's lust is more contained than her dame's, but she's felt, and heard by many dragons throughout the day. Her rider has been more elusive -- away from her usual duties, but still seemingly busy -- though seen in the greenhouse and lower caverns as the day progresses. And by early evening, she's out again, this time appearing in the communal stores, fully dressed and looking refreshed. At first, she looks distracted, if pleased, as she scans the shelves, and yet it's not long before she's walking past whatever caught her eye initially, to stop at H'vier's side. "Preparing for winter, wingleader?" she asks, her voice amused, hazel eyes crinkling from the force of her brilliant smile. Whether he hears her approach or not, and it doesn't seem as though he does, H'vier doesn't look over at the young goldrider until she speaks. There's a stillness in the way he looks at her, carefully neutral, before he says, "Something like that." He stands a little straighter, one hand still in the furs but no longer slouching in his search. "Do you need assistance with something, weyrwoman? It wouldn't surprise me if the staff were avoiding you." There's humor in the last. It's not an insult. Or if it is, it's more at the staff's expense than Farideh's. A skeptical hum leaves the goldrider's lips first as her eyes glance between the bronzerider and his hand-in-the-furs; a conspiratorial glint in her hazel eyes. "It could be," Farideh replies, without annoyance, her lips curving impishly, now. "I need pillows. Great quality pillows. Fluffy, big, huggable, squishable, wrap-your-body-around pillows. And a lot of them. As many as I can find-- or carry-- back to my weyr." It's not quite a request, but he did offer, cavalierly even. "Pillows," repeats H'vier with a slow but understanding nod. If his gaze drops briefly toward the parts of Farideh that he would like to use as pillows, he can hardly be blamed right now. "Pillows sound nice." The bronzerider crouches down to pick up the furs on the floor so he can stuff them back in with the others without folding them. "Not sure how many great quality pillows you're gonna find in here, but we can give it a look." Because H'vier is obviously always super nice and obliging. He glances over at the other shelf, then gestures before he moves. Makes sense that the pillows aren't too far from the blankets. "All of my pillows are flat or lumpy," no pun intended? Farideh's fingers drum against her hip bones through the thin layers of her dress. "Anything would be better than nothing, I think," she says, watching as he stuffs the furs back in; not a single angry word for his lack of care. "I thought I might need blankets too, but it's so hot." It's idle conversation as they make the shift to the other shelf, and yet she seems supremely pleased for some reason, staring at H'vier out of the corners of her eyes. "And you've been-- well?" "I wouldn't've needed blankets, but I had to throw a couple out. "Figured I'd get on it earlier rather than later. Might go hunt my own furs down, in the end," he explains offhandedly, perhaps attempting to distract himself from... well, Farideh. "I'm fine," is agreed with some restraint as he reaches out to grab the few pillows on the higher shelf to make them more easily accessible with the rest of them. "You?" Scintillating conversation. Less and less, Farideh is interested in H'vier's blanket situation, though she's staring at him with rapt attention; but is she listening? "Me? I've never been better," she informs him, with a laugh, and then she's reaching for whatever pillows are on her level. "Though, I will be, once I get these, there, and--" Her lips pucker briefly, eyes flicking to H'vier with unhidden amusement. "I've had the sudden desire, all day, to just undo everything." H'vier takes a deep breath and lets it out carefully. "You want me to just grab what I can carry?" Does she want him anywhere near her weyr? "Undo how?" He must have some sort of idea what she might undo in his head, but it's been proven time and again that his head isn't exactly the best reflection of reality when it comes to women, so he'll let her explain however she likes. Such a gentleman! "That would be kind, H'vier." Farideh's voice carries the extent of her pleasure for his offer, while she tries to cram as many pillows as she can between the combined girth of her, admittedly short-ranged arms. "Mm, everything-- the bed, those sheets, the pillows-- my weyr, it's so-- so--" She makes a face, tucking one downy-filled pillow underneath her chin. "My wardrobe-- everything," has a tinge more warmth and suggestion. "Nice," he repeats, more dumbly than he'd probably like. Then H'vier clears his throat, grabs as many of the most decent pillows as he can manage, and turns to follow, or lead if necessary, the goldrider back to her weyr. "A change can be good for you. I've considered moving my furniture around in my weyr. Or putting in for a new one." Given that H'vier is not often oblivious to suggestiveness, he might be doing it on purpose. "If you want to move anything around, I can do what I can." The flirty gold dragon in the room isn't going to be leaving, and Farideh at least doesn't appear to mind the broadcast. "I don't have time to get the weavers from the Hall to construct all new bedding and tapestries all in a day, but this will do." She bestows a smile on him, before nodding acceptance. "Thank you, it's just--" But she's walking, moving through the stores that will inevitably lead them out of the lower caverns, through the bowl, and up the stairs towards her low-lying weyr. "What would you have them make if they could?" wonders H'vier. It could just be polite conversation, but it's more likely something to put away for future reference. Not that the proddiness of young goldriders is particularly predictable. "It's just what?" he asks on the way to her weyr, paying no attention to anyone who see them with their armfuls of pillows. "Gold, ornate-- there was this dress I saw Lady Daroda wear once, with diamond-shaped panels and crystals that looked like-- rainbows." It sounds gaudy, unlike Farideh usual, if feminine, style. "I want to walk in and everything be gold, everywhere." She's genuine about the sentiment, heedless of whether he thinks as quite as splendid as she or the stares they get as they amble around carrying an unnecessary amount of pillows. "Nothing-- nothing," she laughs, without much provocation. If H'vier has an actual opinion on the matter, he keeps it nicely to himself, even if he becomes somewhat more thoughtful as they walk. Better than eager, anyway, right? "You'd look good in gold," he'll allow. "Gold and rainbows. Though I suppose I think you'd look good in anything, Farideh. You're a beautiful woman." It's not often that H'vier offers compliments that don't sound like he's trying to get into a woman's skirts. But there it is. "Normally, I think I look my best in blue. It does something to the green parts of my eyes," Farideh carries on, rambling on in an enchanted, disarmed way. "I always thought I'd get married in a big gold dress, but now, I can wear gold whenever I want, right?" She laughs jubilantly, at her own question, and leans to bump playfully into the bronzerider's arm, eyes aglow with laughter. "You're just saying that," she accuses, jokingly, her little chin lifting, "and we both know it." "You can wear whatever you want whenever you want, I'm quite sure. If you wanted to talk around in a wedding dress all the time, I'm not sure anyone would be inclined to stop you. Except, perhaps, to get it off of you from time to time." H'vier can't not think about these sorts of things. "When have I ever told a woman she's beautiful without meaning it, hm?" Never! That's when. "Anyway, you know just as well that you are and we both know it." It's kind of annoying sometimes, in fact. A giggle follows shortly, and lasts the rest of the way through the caverns, until they're in the weyrbowl and angling towards-- not her weyr, but the guest weyr. "I don't know what Irianke would do if I walked around in a wedding dress every day," Farideh sighs. "You're right, of course," through a smile, "I know how beautiful I am," no shame to view. "There." She's jerking her head towards the guest weyr, which appear to be their final destination. He follows regardless of where they're going without protest. H'vier seems unconcerned about the fact that they aren't taking this mountain of pillows to her weyr. "Good," is all he says about her shameless assertion. "Does it matter where I put these? The bed?" he asks as they approach the guest weyr and he starts his way up. "Or are you planning on making all your suitors have a pillow fight with each other?" "On the bed, if you please." Farideh follows at a more sedate pace, taking her time on the stairs that lead up to the guest weyr; it would be hard for anyone within their vicinity to notice that for most of it, she stares appreciatively at his ass. "I think that will take care of itself, don't you? What fun is there in pillows-- for them-- for--" Her smile is wanton. "You. I want them for me." Suitors? Pillow? Both? H'vier certainly wouldn't mind if he were aware of her gaze. As it is, the bronzerider dumps his armful of pillows on the bed and assures her that, "I have no interest in pillows, I'll admit. Not unless you're in them and I'm--." Also in them, presumably. That might account for the look he gives the bed, but H'vier clears his throat again and looks at Farideh instead. "Is there anything else I can do for you, weyrwoman?" Pillows-- a bed overflowing with pillows. It takes time, but Farideh makes sure to position each one how she wants it, specifically, and fluff them to proper fluffiness. Then, one knee on the bed, she straightens, to consider H'vier and his question. Her eyes make a very slow, deliberate path down from his face, his body, to his feet, and back up; she bites her lip suggestively all the way up. "Anything else? Not," as she backs away from the bed, "yet," like she'd talk about a dessert she wants to save for later, her lips curving sinuously. At least no one can accuse H'vier of being against his own objectification. In fact, he seems to enjoy it just fine. His expression is intense as he watches Farideh, no doubt going through various scenarios in his head, most of which probably feature the goldrider sans clothes. "Okay," is rough, but H'vier's gaze shifts away from her, briefly to the bed, then toward the exit as he starts to turn. "Good luck, Farideh," he offers before he starts making his way back out into the bowl. A cold shower would be helpful right about now. Warm eyes follow the bronzerider's emotions, movements, and even as he exits, her smile steady despite the treat that's just slipped from her fingers; for now. Farideh will return to reorganizing the room -- fluffing pillows, straightening the sheets, and going over the dust in the weyr -- once she doesn't hear his footfalls anymore, and eventually, after some time, find her way out. |
Comments
Squishy (19:30, 6 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
So Farideh is gaudy as well as promiscuous when proddy. Things to know.
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