Logs:Toying With Weyrwomen
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| RL Date: 20 September, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, X'vin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vin (unwisely) tests the mettle of High Reaches' new senior weyrwoman. |
| Where: Weyrleader's Complex, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 11, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Drex/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions |
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>---< Weyrleader Complex, High Reaches Weyr >--------------------------------<
Only about a man's height from the ground, this low ledge is wide and
flat, reached by a set of timeworn steps that hug the cliff face. As the
ledge stretches back away from the head of the stairs, it simultaneously
broadens out over the bowl and tunnels into the mountain to become a sort
of antechamber, from which a passageway winds back to the Weyrwoman's
weyr, the council room, the records room and the hatching sands. A small
round table is set in a shallow alcove here, surrounded by four chairs
that provide a waiting area for those seeking one of the weyrleaders.
Another short flight of stairs leads upward from the tapering end of the
ledge to the Weyrleader's quarters, while others lead to the further
recessed junior queens' weyrs. While it's hard to get a good look at the
lake from here, the view does encompass the majority of the bowl and the
comings and goings across its span.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 39 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 38s
X'vin M 32 6'3" muscular, black hair, dk brown eyes 0s
----------------------------------< Exits >--------------------------------- It's impossible to miss the precursor of someone's arrival as it bounces off the enclosed ledge and vaults up through the antechamber: the sweet, high whistle of a harper's love song, a snippet of well-pitched lyric here and there, and the rhythmic footfalls up the steps in cadence with the whistler's song. Who it is makes themselves known quickly: a Fortian rider with a wingleader's knot on his exquisitely tailored jacket, clean-cut and smiling, with a parcel tucked under one arm and an obviously delighted skip in his step despite to compliment the clear skies and relatively kind weather. Pleasant, if chilly, autumn days brings out Reachians in droves: to soak in the sun, the air, and the momentary lack of dampness. There's a lot of lollygagging, where people must have things to do, people to see, and more purposeful activities to head towards, except they don't. Irianke doesn't. She's standing on that low ledge looking out into the bowl rocking back and forth on her heels and absolutely joyful in this respite from rain. Who knows how long she's been there? It doesn't even matter, particularly when her slate-blue eyes find the owner of the whistle, the song, and the cheer, and continues to watch him as his steps lead up to where she stands. The tiptoes fall and she stands there, one hand to her hip, watching this man, and his knot, with a transparent curiosity and that patient waiting of someone who knows answers will come soon. Answers eventually. It's likely impossible that X'vin doesn't notice Irianke there sooner, but he doesn't stop immediately. It might be that he's going to walk right by her on his way without acknowledging her, but a few steps hence he stops, finishing his song with a certain deliberation as his eyes fall on her with bright curiosity and that smile of his. "From season to season I love you always, my one, my only, my darling. Good morning, Weyrwoman." His bow is brief but polite, the package adjusted automatically. "Beautiful day for a Reaches autumn." Irianke stands, the slant of her hand at hip melting into something more relaxed. She's a woman used to being serenaded, either seriously or jocularly, and she takes it all in with a twitching smile. The kind of smile that hints at a brillance that could fell some men (and women), but not all. Which is X'vin? "The worst part of rank is that people know who you are automatically with the tell of a few extra loops and tassles. Unless you want to flirt and say you would recognize my beauty from anywhere on Pern." In which case, Irianke mocks a twirl of a curl. "The worst part though is that I know I should know who you are but as you are not Reachian," or Igen for that matter, "I haven't made it my purpose to remember your name. Terrible, in fact." "Is it not every woman's dream to be recognized far and wide for her beauty?" inquires X'vin sweetly, which is not exactly an answer to own question. He does not reign his smile with such care as she; it's there, easy and apparently automatic, and he's even polite enough to look at her eyes instead of her other assets - save a quick skim down and up, cursory and unavoidable. "But the knot helps, too. X'vin, bronze Besmernyth's. Fort's duties to you and the weyr. And," however late, "congratulations on your new knot. It will make it so much easier for suitors. You have no idea how hard it can be. I hope my caterwauling didn't disturb your peace." His perfectly pitched caterwauling. "By way of," Irianke's eyes close in a faux thoughtful look. "Benden. You're the rider who transferred into a Weyr as a wingleader. Impressive." Those eyes open and she gives him a less polite once over, her gaze stopping when they reach his eyes. The smile doesn't turn brilliant, though it has shifted into appreciative, a cant of her head turning those curls to one side. "And you're here to visit my junior." This is a statement. "Are you wooing her away from her pirate?" Frank and straight to the point. X'vin tips his head graciously, obviously amused and definitely a tiny bit preening. "Excellent recall. One in the same, yes." Her own examination does not seem to make him uncomfortable. There's something almost contrived at the fineness of his leathers, but there's also something to be said for a well-dressed man. He could feed a family on the cost of them, with their touch of bronze threads and the quality of the leather. "Wooing?" he laughs. "I'm afraid that ship sailed years ago, pardon the pun. I'm here to congratulate her." "Oh?" Irianke's response, all of one word, is somehow filled with the deliberate skipping of all of what he says up until the last and laden with inquiry. Whether it's polite or not all lies in how he reads her dark blue eyes in their amused, curious light. X'vin is infuriatingly obtuse: "Yes, ma'am. I like to congratulate my friends on big steps in their lives. Developments. Growths." The last has a certain weight, and elicits a sort chuckle at his own private joke. Which just means she might have to deign to ask, a bit more directly, because he moves on. "She liked the dress I got for her last I was here; I thought another might be nice." "Do you make it a habit to attire one of my more affluent riders?" Irianke rifles a hand through her dark hair and steps away from the edge of that low ledge and begins walking towards somewhere not her weyr, the confidence in her gait that X'vin will continue along with her for a short while at least. After all, she is heading towards the tunnels that lead towards the junior queens' weyrs. "I make it a habit to give gifts to my friends. And sometimes my lovers. It's convenient when it overlaps. Why?" X'vin is nothing if not trained in those very subtle movements and indictors, and even if Irianke wasn't the weyrwoman he might follow her; lovely women have a way as it were, and he's been watching her movements with attentive interest, even that ruffling of her hair. "Do you object to it?" "Oh, wingleader," the once Igenite begins, that amusement rife in her voice now. "The list of things I object to, you wouldn't even know where to start with them." Irianke stands just outside Farideh's weyr. "I should warn you, she's not in right now. But you're more than welcome to leave the package with me along with any words you'd like me to convey. I have her doing inventory with the healers today." X'vin adjusts the package just so: it's a smaller dress box, and when he holds it up it is not to hand it off - at least not immediately. "I don't think it would fit you," is teasing. "It'll be too big around the waist." But then it's offered out, for her to take if she still wishes. "The healers? Seems a bit cruel, doesn't it? She must be sick of them by now. Or maybe it's a blessing in disguise, given her state." "Wingleader?" The change in voice is abrupt, Irianke's casually amused flirtation turning formal, though still in that lovely Igen drawl that elongates the title in velvety, husky ways. His surprise is clearly feigned, but there's something about dangling information in front of her that he seems to like. "The baby," obviously. "You don't know?" Irianke's reaction is probably not what he is looking for, a sort of pained twitch about her nose. "Wingleader," she says again, a bit more firmly. "I see Farideh daily, several times daily. I've had a child myself. I'm not sure how old you are to think insinuations and getting someone in trouble is worth the effort, but it's hardly behavior I'd expect out of someone your rank. When she decides to tell me herself, I will be all surprise and congratulations, but," Irianke smiles without actually smiling, her hand reaching out to place gently against X'vin's exquisitely embroidered chest, provocative in the spread of her fingers that then climb up to cup the bronzerider's lower jaw, "Don't try to one up me in my own Weyr." When she closes, X'vin's very still, that smile darkening with an odd sort of pleasure for her scolding. "I like you," he decides, letting his head tilt into her hand. "Very much. But you misread me." She doesn't. "I would never see Farideh in trouble. Only cared for, because it's clear her sailor doesn't have a clue. Here." When he puts space between them, it's to lean back and lift the box, gently pressing it to her chest and filling the gap. If he moved closer, they'd crush it and the contents between them. "Point taken. Please tell her I wish her the best. It'll be big until she begins to show, but I think she'll appreciate it when that time comes." "If you cared for her, you would tell me frankly rather than delightedly dangle the carrot of news you think I don't already know." Irianke takes the box, holding her ground, in her Weyr with level eyes. "You thought to toy with High Reaches new Weyrwoman and see what would happen. You should have left it at flirtation, love. You're too pretty for me to think of so poorly. Let's try again. The next time we meet, we'll pretend we haven't met before and you start over and be nice and I'll... think of something appropriate." "Very much," X'vin repeats with feeling, his head tilting off to the side, mannerisms almost birdlike while he studies her. He touches his lip with a thumb, thoughtful while his smile twitches to find its place again. When it does settle, it's genuinely pleased, if dimmer, and his eyes are sharper than they were before. He's not playing anymore, not with her. Not like that. "I might like you to think something inappropriate, weyrwoman, since I can't promise I'll try to do the same. Next time, your beauty will be my lure." It almost looks like he'll touch her, his hand falling away from the box and lingering just alongside her face, fingers curled with the whisper of a touch that eventually just grazes one of her curls in its retreat. "I should be going," does not wait for her dismissal. "It was a pleasure," sounds at least genuine as he turns away, back the way he came. Whistling, despite it all, another love song. |
Comments
Alida (02:42, 21 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Heh-heh-heh. A fun read.
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