Logs:Important Links
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 7 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, X'vin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The night of Roszadyth's flight, X'vin comes to get his things. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, A'rist/Mentions |
  |
| X'vin never did get the name of the healer who took him back to her room, but it barely matters. Too many factors to take in, and too much throbbing in his head, and everywhere else. It took a lot of tender loving care to get him back on his feet by dinnertime, and by then Besmernyth was restless to go and annoyed to be blocked by circumstance. « Your clothes, » was the biggest problem: breeches and a jacket in between would simply not do.. So X'vin retraced his steps back, to Farideh's weyr with the weight of Besmernyth's judgment on him, through the miserable rain, all so he could get his things. "Farideh?" he called, sounding tired as he hit the threshold, "I need things." Warm -- the weyr is warm, from the toasty fire in the hearth, which burns bright and casts strange shadows on the inside. It's dry and clean, now, and the inhabitant of it is lounging strategically on the couch, free of her usual hides and other projects. She's clutching the stem of a wineglass precariously, and looks to dressed for an event; long dress, long sleeves, dark blue in color with little ornamentation and her hair dressed down with pretty clips pulling it back; not the image of the wet, berobed woman from earlier. Her head turns, towards the voice, and her lips part without sound, first, before recognition registers. "Come in. Your clothes are here," neatly folded on one of the chairs by the wall. X'vin shudders from the warmth, wrapping his jacket close as if he can trap the coziness. He's certainly less put together than she is, just based on the fact that most of his things are in her possession, but that doesn't stop him from keeping his bearing. Everyone does the flight walk of shame, once in their life. For her, there's a breath of a sigh between his lips, like he's viewing her through the same lust from the morning. Even so, he offers only, "Congratulations. She flew exceptionally well for her first time." It's not much of the man who seduced her earlier, though the same measured movements are: he doesn't ask if it's okay when he removes his jacket, plucking the shirt out of the pile and shrugging into it. "Are you alright?" A clink disturbs the relative noiselessness of the weyr when Farideh sets down her wineglass, and then turns in her seat to study X'vin as he re-dresses; notably, not with the same lust as earlier. "Thank you, X'vin-- I think she's pleased with her choice. High Reaches lineage." It's an idle strain of conversation, but her smile afterwards is more genuine, on the verge of rueful. "I should be asking you if you're alright. Drex--" she falters, then takes a steadying breath, "hit you good, that last time. Did the healers clear you to fly? Do you need someplace to stay overnight?" "By way of Igen," X'vin notes with a touch of wryness. "A healthy clutch is a healthy clutch; as they start getting smaller, no point in caring so much where they come from so long as they're here." Buttons done; light sweater next, pulled over his head before he speaks again. "He got lucky. For future reference, though, it's in poor taste to bring your non-rider boyfriend to your flights." His smile for her is fond despite the chastisement. "Why, would you let me stay with you again?" "It will be a relief to the weyrfolk here that it isn't another clutch provided by dragons of another Weyr. Fort, Monaco," is dry, and at the end, slightly annoyed; it's a sentiment that stretches when he admonishes her. Farideh is indeed back to her old self. "I did not invite him. I told him to leave, yesterday, before you--" She doesn't have to go into those details, and waves it away dismissively. "He must have found his way there somehow. He's-- not used to Weyrs, not even now." A brief, contemplative sweep of her eyes takes the bronzerider in. "On the couch." "So they weren't friends of yours? The way you were all over that one," yes, X'vin somehow noticed that in the middle of being punched, "I thought maybe you just had a queue." There's still no malice in the Fortian rider's voice, nor the touch of his smile. Nor does it touch his words at her explanation of Drex. His laugh is low as he hooks his finger into his jacket and lifts it without putting it on. "He mentioned. I'm terribly flattered. I hope it was worth kicking him out. I think he must like you rather a lot, to take on a room of bronzeriders even after you sent him off in the cold." He's musing about it, his smile smug. "He said that, too," about the weyrs. "I told him I'd teach him the ropes. The important parts, at least." "I rescind the invitation if you're going to be crude, X'vin," Farideh replies, stiffly. "I never invited them here. They were, expressly, not supposed to come. If K'del was here, he'd--" Except K'del isn't and they were, which makes her sigh, disgruntled, and pluck her wineglass from the table; it's a lengthy drink she takes, not savoring the taste of that Benden red. "You," choked, on the end of her swallow, her head whipping back around so she can glower at the bronzerider, "won't teach him anything. You've already made things-- difficult. Continuing can't bring anything good. Go back to Fort and take your gifts with you," is dismissive, as she turns back to her wine. "How dare he get himself stabbed in service of the weyr. The audacity. And staying gone while Roszadyth was so horny she summoned dragons from halfway around the world." Does it help that X'vin sounds a little impressed? No? Okay. Then he will switch to unimpressed, entirely, at her threat. "Have I? I don't know how. I didn't even know you had a boyfriend. You conveniently forgot to mention him all those times we met. I understand yesterday, Farideh, but all those times before? I thought I was an important link in your life. You've wounded me." Her dismissal is enough that he starts to shrug his jacket on, but he keeps talking. He's very good at that. "I'll teach him what he asks; I didn't offer, he asked. I bet he's smart, if you teach him. Probably why you like him. You can train him just like you want." That hints at something darker, way back in the tone of his voice, but he carries on brightly, "Keep the dress. You look amazing in it. It wasn't to get you in bed; it was really a gift, that reminded me of you. It's even better because you don't have to be the one to wash it, now. I bet that embroidery was a bitch when you had to deal with it." Farideh's chin lifts in defiance, in retaliation, and her jaw clenches at his words, but she's largely silent, holding firmly onto her wineglass with both furious eyes on the Fortian. She breaks own her muteness to answer, shortly, "Your point is driven, X'vin." And because he isn't leaving fast enough, she rises, regally, and starts to move towards the opening to her bedroom. "Clear skies, wingleader," is her parting, before she disappears behind gilded curtain. "Take care, Farideh," X'vin calls after her, laughing. "I wish you the best of luck with Roszadyth's first clutch. I'll see you soon, I hope." It's probably for his own safety that he doesn't settle on her couch, but turns and makes his way out, still chuckling as he goes. |
Comments
Alida (02:58, 8 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
'Evil' comes to HR, to roost. ;D
Leave A Comment