Logs:Locks, Messages, and the Impossible.
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| RL Date: 11 October, 2015 |
| Who: Edyis |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: A conversation carried out in locks and secret meanings, a death that isn't to be believed. |
| Where: Homestead Built For Two Weyr, Mad Smithcrafter's Den Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: D9 M11 T38 I10 - D18 M13 T38 I10 |
| Mentions: R'hin/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Bristia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Spanning several months, as usual feel free to update or correct as needed. |
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| She hissed as the pick slipped from the tumblers, the tension in the springs releasing and undoing every bit of work she'd managed over the course of the last two hours. Her fingers were numb, her thighs burned from crouching for so long in front of the damned wingleaders door. « Ed, had it ever crossed your mind that just maybe it's a not so subtle hint? » Akluseth's seas washed a sense of comforting warmth as his tenor lilted on the waves. « We should probably leave, unless you wanted to get caught this time. » She rocked back, sitting properly, then on the floor, her legs stretched out in front of her to get some of the circulation back. Dark eyes focused menacingly at the door lock, then at the bottle of Nabolese apple brandy sitting by the door. It'd become a new habit, ever since that abominable discussion with K'del. Just thinking about it warmed her with a fresh wash of irritation, how the fuck was she supposed to unlearn something she never knew in the first place. Stupidest thing she'd ever heard. She looked at the lock, again with a sigh. R'hin probably thought it was some attempt at bribery, and perhaps superficially it was. In truth, she just missed him, all those discussions and lessons over a glass of good wine. Of course, if she told him that, he'd just mock her for it. The thought made her laugh, as she found she even missed that about him. She wasn't cut out for Savannah, and deep down it wasn't Savannah that she missed. It was a part of something, that feeling that there would be people who were always there. Who she wanted to be there for. She had told him once though, if he ever wanted her to stop. All he had to do was change the locks. That thought struck her oddly as she pulled to her feet, wrapping her tools up again. "Time to go." It took the better part of two weeks, a few hours in the cold every chance she got when the ledge was vacant. The new lock was startlingly complex. It gave her time to think about things, things she'd been pretending not to notice, as though not observing them meant they didn't exist. There was a tension that she'd felt ever since the desert, but couldn't identify the source of, and she'd learned not to ask, lest it make things that much worse. She'd asked Bristia about it, after he'd gifted her the dagger. The dagger that she'd thought meant he'd forgiven her. You didn't put that much thought into a gift for someone you hated usually. Bristia had said that the unsteadiness, had just been the effect of a long day. Not that Edyis ever fully trusted Bristia when it came to the truth, the tiny blonde menace had managed that in the first lesson she'd ever given. Still, if Bristia wasn't worried, or if she was, and was lying about it. No, they were probably unrelated things. Yet, Edyis couldn't quite fathom how free booze of an excellent quality would equate to a lock change, after all, it wasn't like bottles were missing, they were just appearing. The thoughts fled as the telltale click that signified success echoed. With a positively smug grin she set the bottle of apple brandy on the table and stoked up the fire, she thought about sticking around to ask him what the mess was about, but thought better of it in the end. If he was tired, better to let him sleep and catch him the next time around, there was no need to rush. She had plenty of time and new lock to memorize after all. Edyis stared at the lock in utter disbelief. It hadn't even been a full week since she'd cracked the last. Her fingers tightened around the neck of the white she'd found, the vintage was rather similar to the one he'd first introduced her to when she'd met him all those turns ago. Somehow she doubted he'd remember, and she didn't particularly care if he did or didn't. It just seemed like a fitting thing to drink on Gretvyn's turnday, and he was one of the few alive who had known the woman. It was brand new, from the look of it installed within the last day or so and more complex than the last one he'd used. She blinked at it. Unable to process the message that was so plainly set before her. She left the bottle by the door, and tried not to think about what it might mean. She would catch him soon, she thought. Akluseth's agitation stirred at the edge of her thoughts, as she started putting the dishes away. Some bronze had him riled, and so she ignored it. He hated bullies, and nothing really gave her cause to worry. His keen was a physical thing, the wine bottle crashing to the floor and shattering as dark eyes turned to rest on the brown, his farewell to the fallen reverberating on every inch of stone leaving her with a painful heaviness in her chest. Who? She managed, struggling to breathe. « Leiventh. » Everything started spinning, and her stomach rebelled, spots of color edging her vision. It wasn't possible. She felt Akluseth's muzzle steady her, as everything went black. |
Comments
Jo (12:19, 11 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
Poor Edyis. D: Like a thief into the night, until the locks change.
Varied (17:20, 11 October 2015 (PDT)) said...
This speaks to me, in its entirety.
In truth, she just missed him, all those discussions and lessons over a glass of good wine. Of course, if she told him that, he'd just mock her for it. The thought made her laugh, as she found she even missed that about him. She wasn't cut out for Savannah, and deep down it wasn't Savannah that she missed. It was a part of something, that feeling that there would be people who were always there. Who she wanted to be there for.
I wonder if she'll try for the last part, the people and being part of something, with Snowdrift.
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