Logs:Pride and Prejudice
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| RL Date: 26 December, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh throws a party in her weyr for three! |
| Where: Farideh's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ethran/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, R'vel/Mentions, Mielline/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Lots of swearing. It's Jo and Drex! |
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| The first time Farideh tries to bring up the visit is a sevenday after she sees Jo in the storerooms, but fails to get farther than "would you mind if--" followed quickly by "--I used that pillow?" She doesn't bring it up again for several days, but it's on one innocuous morning after she's gotten dressed and keeps slanting him apprehensive glances from where she stands in front of the mirror. "My assistants will be in today, spending most of the day-- cleaning," she enunciates slowly, much too slowly to be anything but suspicious. "I'm having dinner brought-- in, and you know--" She spends a lot of time fixing the flounces on her skirt, and not looking at him, now. "Company." "Like you usually ask," is Drex's grudging response to the first, tossing the requested pillow over. Her second attempt gets more of a snort: "Are we taking bets on how long these will last?" her assistants, presumably, and not how clean the weyr will stay and for how long, because that isn't much of a bet with the way the sailor flings clothes around wily nily. It's the last that makes him look over from where he's digging through the pile of clothes he's amounted, brow furrowing. "Ok, but don't be surprised if there's a dent in your tab at the Snowasis come tomorrow." Because clearly, company doesn't include himself. The face in the mirror's reflection is displeased. "I'm not going to bet on something I don't want to happen. Besides, one is too old to Stand and the other--" Farideh frown, but turns away from her reflection to address Drex with a less displeased mien. "I want you to join us," she states bluntly, eyeing from and fiddling with one he sleeve cuffs. "It's not an official visit. It's just-- a friend, and us. Food, drinks, conversation-- it's much better than that dingy old bar, anyway. I hear this big wing competition there tonight. Do you really want to be stuck there?" "So you bet against it," Drex says, like it should be obvious. "We don't even have to do it with marks," since he clearly doesn't have any, "Maybe a tiny little healer's outfit, or.." the sailor's dreamy reflections are interrupted by Farideh's displeased visage, not to mention the words that follow, as his expression crumbles into something equally displeased. "Sounds like it's be better in a bar. Unless you want it in your weyr for a reason?" He scowls. "Is it that bronzerider?" Dream away little dreamer, because the goldrider pointedly does not acknowledge his betting standards and instead meets his scowl with hand-on-hips, chin lifted. "No, and I am saying I want you there which is quite the opposite of what you're implying. It's a friend. She wants you to be there, too," Farideh replies. "I want to actually hear and be heard, which is hard to do when Snowasis is crowded. Please?" Of course, she gives him a pout. The scowl remains fixed on Drex's face, at least until Farideh says, "She?" the sailor echoes, frowning, instead. "There better be something to drink, at least," sounds like the beginnings of a concession, stepping closer as she pouts, touching a finger to her lips, as he grins, abruptly. "And a promise to at least talk about the healer's uniform later, hmm?" The triumph on Farideh's face is fizzles out quickly, and she scowls back at her weyrmate. "Talk about it, that's all," she concedes reluctantly. "This evening, be on time, and don't show up already drunk or anything." She stares at him, not saying a word, except that she's wearing an expression that says it all; she means it, ok!? And without another word, she turns to leave and go about her daily routine. Drex's expression is classic, would I do that? while looking vaguely disappointed his plan of pre-drinks has already been thwarted in advance. With a last scowl, he adds, "Talk about it," and then he's off out of the weyr. Later, much much later, when the sun has set and the sounds from Snowasis fill the bowl -- laughing, shouting, boos and cheers -- Farideh is still puttering around her weyr, needlessly fixing things her assistants have already set aright. Bottles of expensive wine and liquor sit on her coffee table, along with an assortment of finger foods and a display of colorful flowers. Everything's clean, everything's tidy-- and yet, she still looks displeased about the state of things, as she rearrangements the glassware on her sideboard for the second time tonight. Drex, amazingly, has managed to have only the one, single drink -- so technically he's not drunk -- reluctantly parting himself from the loud noises of the Snowasis to come to... this. He's standing in the entrance, hands on his hips, watching Farideh fuss around with a roll of the eyes. "You'd think you were having a Lady Holder over or something, the way you're fussing." He pauses, furrow creasing his brow. "It aint some fancy Blood, is it?" His gaze cuts to the liquor, like he's considering starting now. Farideh jumps when the sailor speaks out of nowhere, and whirls to address him with her hand still pressed to her chest. "Faranth, you scared me. Wha-- what? Why would I invite over a Lady Holder to my weyr to meet my weyrmate?" Her face is pulled into an expression of exasperation, but then she's back to adjusting and rearranging to her heart's desire before their exalted guest arrives. Jo, once all of her wingsecond duties are done for the day, arrives with her dark leather jacket slung over one shoulder to show her in her white halter top and a dark bottle of some that must be good and expensive. She pauses on the threshold, not announcing her presence outright as she listens to the banter between weyrmates with a slight sardonic smile. "Aint ever see you put on anything this fancy before," Drex says, folding his arms across his chest. "And well, being that you're Blood at all, how am I supposed to know?" A beat, "Wait, I'm not supposed to know that, right?" Clearly, this is definitely the time to break out the liquor, no matter that their guest hasn't arrived. He's already unstoppering the bottle and lifting it when Jo appears on the threshold, though he's got his back to her and hasn't noticed her yet. "Is there something wrong with wanting to impress my friend?" Not bothering to look at him-- until he mentions the unmentionable, and then she does, with a look of shock frozen on her face. Conveniently, Jo walks in at that moment, and Farideh's wide hazel eyes shift to her, though her smile isn't quite entirely natural. "Jo," she announces, ignoring Drex altogether, and motioning for the bluerider to come inside the well-lit weyr. "Hope I'm not interruptin' a lovers' spat," is Jo's greeting behind Drex, passing a smile to Farideh that lingers all over her before it transfers to the pirate. She walks further into the weyr, holding up the bottle for Farideh to see as she says to Drex, "Long time, pirate. Thought I'd bring some rum by. Yer gonna share what yer drinkin' down there?" The splash of liquid into a glass serves as initial answer to her question, with Drex lifting the glass immediately and taking a considerable sort of gulp. He glances, sidelong, at Farideh's expression, and if there's satisfaction at the reaction, it doesn't show -- instead, he follows her gaze towards Jo, eyes narrowing and a scowl taking place. "Wait, her? She's the one yer getting all fancy for?" And while the offered bottle of rum might otherwise soften his expression, in this case it mutates his scowl down to a slightly less disgruntled frown. "Aint mine, feel free," he answers Jo with an expansive wave at the liquor. "No," the goldrider is quick to assure Jo, moving towards her to rescue the bottle she's brought along for their party. "I was just-- what? Why are you calling him a pirate? And why are you being so rude? She's my friend." Talk about being caught between two people-- quite literally, with a glare passed between them so they know how frustrated she is with them both at this moment. "I thought we'd have a nice, quiet evening in," Farideh says, holding out her hands to take the bottle of rum the wingsecond's brought. "You can have whatever you like. I have a little bit of everything-- I wasn't sure what you like, besides bad." "Nice to see ya, too," Jo remarks toward Drex's scowl. She even blows him a kiss, which then she tosses a wink at the flustered Farideh as she hands the bottle on over to her. As to what she likes, she chooses a comfortable seat close to the table as she studies both Farideh and Drex before answering, "I'll drink anythin' strong, darlin'. Heady. Aphrodisiacs are welcomed, too. Lookin' good, Farideh. Got all dressed up for me?" Hand to the chest as she leans back in a lounging position with her arms folded. To Drex, "Yer always grumpy like this, or is it only with certain folks?" The look Drex gives Jo makes it clear he holds the wingsecond entirely responsible for all of this fancy stuff. He takes another gulp from his glass, gaze going to Farideh: "Funny, my dearest, you didn't mention it was Jo you were bringing." His scowl inevitably deepens at Jo's words of him: "Aint doing anythin' special for you," as evidenced by his non-fancy clothes and expression. To prove he's trying to behave, he too, heads over to a seat, lounging likewise in it. See? He's trying. Undoubtedly, Farideh is regretting this party idea by now, but rather than acknowledge their continued banter she simply takes the bottle and sets it down with the others on the table before she pours herself a glass of red wine from a different bottle. "I didn't? I thought I did," she tells Drex, neatly avoiding his gaze whilst seating herself on the edge of the sofa. "Thank you, Jo. I thought this color dress would be the safest," she tells the bluerider placidly from behind her wineglass, of her deep wine-colored dress; prepare for the occasion, etc etc. "Safest? I prefer scandalous myself," is Jo's comment on type of dress, the bluerider letting her dark gaze linger on Farideh before she addresses the banter involved with her. "If she had told'ja it was me, ya would be sittin' here doin' the same thing ya doin' right now," she says to Drex with a look. "Sulkin'. I thought rum would put ya in a better mood, 'least. How's the kid?" That's for them both as she looks for a glass (or a bottle) to drink from. "Yer very good at selective forgetfulness, aint you my ravishing little doll?" Drex's tone is oversweet, at odds with still scowling expression as he watches where Farideh seats herself, and since she's not looking in his direction, makes a face. That face only darkens at Jo's words. "You don't know shit about me." He flickers a look at the bottle of rum, but doesn't head towards it, but the reminder at least means there's not a sharp follow up. He's silent (totally not sulking, really) -- letting Farideh answer the question about their son. The good hostess finds the glass and hands it to Jo before re-taking her seat, even with that sideways glances towards Drex for his sulky rejoinders. "Why do you always have to be so--" Farideh's voice is tight, but then she exhales and turns a smile on Jo. "I think he's tripled his birth size by now. He's so chubby and he's got cheeks--" She stops rambling and lifts her glass instead. "He's doing great, though. How's Mielline and the wing?" "Is that yer name for her? 'Ravishin' lil Doll'?" Jo casts an amusing smile from one to the other, and back again. "Ya don' think she's more like a feline?" She nods as she takes the glass from the goldrider and moves to pour herself something from one of the bottles. Drex's rejoinder gets countered with a, "What I've learned is what I've seen, darlin'. Ya don' make it easy to get to know ya. How did'ja manage?" the last going to Farideh with a raised brow. On their son, "He sounds like he'll be a heartbreaker," she comments wryly, shaking her head as she takes a drink. "The wing's well. I thought I was done with learnin' new shit with weyrlin'hood. Mielline still hasn' kicked me out yet." "Be what, my sweet pea?" Drex, apparently, is milking the pretend-dutiful-boyfriend role for all he's worth. He shrugs off the question from Jo, though there's a slight narrowing of eyes. While Farideh and Jo talk, he finishes off the remainder of liquid in his glass, which of course means a much-needed-refill. He eyes the liquor bottle for a half a heartbeat or so, before he takes the bottle of rum with him back to his seat. She did say it was for him, after all, if not in so many words. "No, he does not." That's Farideh, hastily chiming in. "He's not normally like this, not all the time," she says, glaring at Drex. "You're acting like a brat. I don't--" She bites her tongue and turns back to Jo, then. "I'm sorry he's being rude while you're our guest." Pause. "I don't think that she will. You'd have to be complete crap, I think, and Mielline is experienced enough to know who's in and who's out, or so I've heard. I don't know her that well-- K'del seems to trust her," with a meaningful look towards Drex. With a thin-lipped look towards Drex, Jo drains some of her glass as she watches him go for the bought rum. When she does respond to Farideh, "No need to apologize, Kitten," she tells her with a shake of her head. "Well, not sure if I'm complete crap," she admits on Mielline, "but it could also be that I'm not the only wingsecond she's got since the other one went to Tundra. I'd imagine that she wouldn' want to run a wing like Snowdrift all by herself. I doubt K'del trusts me," gets added when his name is brought up. She's appears amused by it. "I did accuse him of some crime many turns ago. Hey Drex," she turns her head to get him into her peripheral view. "Ya like the Weyrleader much?" With a satisfied crack, Drex opens the bottle of rum, and, after contemplating his glass for a beat, takes a gulp directly from the bottle. Because clearly, how else do you drink rum when you're a dirty pirate? If the sailor's supposed to be aware of what that meaningful look from Farideh is meant to convey, the blankness in the gaze he gives back to her is a good indicator he doesn't get it'. That scowl reappears as he hears Jo's address for Farideh. After a generous gulp of the contents of the bottle, he appears willing to at least answer the latter question, albeit with his customary glibness: "The fuck would I know about the Weyrleader?" He is, after all, a lowly pleb in the scheme of the Weyr. "But would you be a wingsecond if they didn't trust you? You may have had some words to say about him -- and I've no doubt he deserved them -- but if you're a good candidate, you're a good candidate. There are plenty who would love your rank, I'm sure." Farideh seems confident of those sentiments, and gets distracted enough by the issue at hand that she seems to forget Drex's disposition, until he speaks, and she scowls, again. "You don't have to--" Scratch that. She makes an angry sound, and downs what's left of her glass before reaching for the bottle to pour another. "Do you trust me?" Jo asks of her, the question perhaps oddly serious. She seems to acquiesce on her rank, though she does comment with, "I miss the extra free time I used to have. I can't go to wild parties as much as I used to." A shame. She drains her glass and leans forward to get a refill as Drex answers her on K'del with a snort. "What do ya know of, then?" she asks him. The talk of rank, and trust, and the trustworthiness of the Weyrleader is clearly not fascinating subjects for Drex, given he takes another mouthful of the rum. Farideh's aborted comment to him earns a: "What is it, light of my life?" He may well be running to the extent of the sweet-soaked endearments he can summon, at this rate. To his credit, he actually seems to think a bit about Jo's question, although it probably has less credit once he actually speaks: "I know yer sitting here bitching about all this work and angsting about whether some bronzerider trusts you. You could just quit and have yer time back, with the upside of us not having to talk about it anymore." "Of course I trust you." It's a simple statement, and it doesn't require much thought on Farideh's part. "I trust you more than I trust K'del, but that's not saying much." She is momentarily amused, and then there's Drex, bringing down the conversation with his syrupy endearments and obvious dislike. Special guest be damned: "What is your problem?" Jo almost responds on the topic of trust, her lips parting for such until Drex answers her and she is quick to say, "I'm not bitchin' or angstin'. What is it that you wanna talk 'bout then?" She finishes pouring and settles back once more with her filled glass as she watches Farideh and Drex with idle interest. Drex pushes up, perfectly stable despite his imbibing of the rum. "Since it's obvious you two are gonna sit here and talk about rider things all night long, think I might head down to the Snowasis after all. At least, even when it's full of riders, they can stop talking about being riders for one minute." With a tip of the bottle at Jo, presumably in salute, he casts about for his shoes. The whole thing is embarrassing, enough that Farideh's cheeks go red when her weyrmate gets up to leave. "Excuse me, Jo," she says, and immediately follows that up by standing and scurrying after Drex. Possibly, to keep it from getting further embarrassing, or she simply doesn't want Jo to hear whatever she tells the sailor, it's in a terse, quiet murmur that she speaks to him; quiet enough not to be heard beyond his ears-- whether or not he reciprocates.
"Really? Ya don' wanna sta-?" but Jo watches as Farideh goes after Drex as he looks for his boots, the wingsecond staying put with her drink with a frown flirting around the mouth. For once she doesn't have anything sassy to say, choosing to watch what happens while she takes slow sips of the whiskey. Finally, Drex shucks on his boots, and with that rum bottle firmly in hand, heads for the exit, only to pull up short as Farideh intercepts him. He's possibly slightly less worried about being overheard -- that or his perception of what quiet is is a bit different: if she's listening carefully, Jo can probably catch enough of his response to Farideh to piece it together: "Aint gonna sit around listening to you two talk rider talk all night. I came because it was important to you. I tried. Yer friends aint always gonna be my friends." Her pretense of privacy gets throw out the window as her frustration grows, and the bluerider doesn't have to strain to ear her angry retort. "You didn't even try. You've been in a bad mood since you saw who she was-- why don't you like her? You both like the same things. Drinking, fighting, me. We don't have to talk about rider things-- we can talk about-- about-- drinks. Jo knows lots of great bars," and at this point Farideh grabs his arm and hopes to pull him back, which is laughable. Jo is definitely eavesdropping, even moreso since they're not bothering to lower their voices. She's lounging back in her seat and looking in their direction, a brow lifting towards Drex first for his comments and then Farideh. As she takes a sip, "Perhaps it's cuz we have so much in common - out hots for you included, Kitten - that has him foul," is her idle comment as she contemplates the contents in her glass. "I have no problem with him. Ya got somethin' to eat?" "Ever think that bad mood had something do with you springing this on me like some surprise? Doubt you would've done that if you thought it'd be a happy, pleasant event," Drex challenges Farideh. His scowl appears and deepens at Jo's interruption, and he seeks to shake off Farideh's arm. "Go ahead and fuck her if you want. What do I care?" It's hard to tell who he's addressing that to. Maybe both of them. "Jo," starts an angry warning, but there is no follow-through, as a stunned silence descends over Farideh at the sailor's words. She drops his arm at his insistence and takes a careful step back, and even folds her hands sedately together. By now, she's at least gotten ahold of herself to keep the hurt off her face, but she doesn't put voice to any words, settling on a jerky nod and a tight smile before she sees herself, stiltedly, back to the sofa. And picks up her wineglass like nothing happened. And smooths out her wine-colored skirt with careful fingers. And fully does not acknowledge the man making his exit. Jo watches the pair in her calm silence, so that when Drex answers on the last and Farideh steps back, the bluerider could catch both of their reactions with a furrowed brow. She shakes her head as she takes a lingering drink of her whiskey, looking away from them to her glass. In murmured silence, "I find that hard to believe," is all she says, likely in answer to Drex's claim of not caring whether they fucked or not before she chances a look at the goldrider as she reseats herself carefully. Drex's face is fixed as he watches Farideh move back -- towards Jo. As she's walking away, he mutters: "Aint dumb. She looks at you the way Itsy used to look at you." There's a narrow-eyed look for Jo and her words -- the kind of, I know what you're about look -- before he stomps out. All of those eyes on her, she must know, but she doesn't break her concentrate on the fireplace as she sips placidly from her wineglass; shoulders back, posture perfect. It's after those stomping steps can't be heard anymore that she pastes on a smile that looks as fake as the cheerfulness in her voice assuredly is. "You'll have to excuse my poor hospitality tonight, Jo. I'm feeling unwell. I think I should have a lie down. Please-- take anything with you," Farideh tells the bluerider, and at the end, gestures to the table full of wine, liquor, and food. Jo watches Drex leave before she turns to Farideh and sets the glass down slowly. She's silent for a few moments before she says to that fake smile, "Runnershit. He didn' mean it. Ya know that." There's a pregnant pause before her dark gaze falls on Farideh and she adds, "I don' wanna leave. Ya sure ya want me to?" Her words are quiet ones. It takes only a short amount of time for Farideh, while sitting where she's been and listening to Jo make attempts to get her to talk, to finish off what remains of this glass. "Didn't he?" she asks, but she's not really asking. "I'll feel bad about it tomorrow. You're welcome to sleep on the couch," is an offer, as she stands and gestures with her wineglass holding hand, to the piece of furniture. "I've no intentions of having you-- or anyone, really-- see me while I cry into my glass, and no--" She holds up one finger on her wineglass-toting hand, and grabs for a wine bottle with her free hand. "I don't need sympathy right now. I just want to be alone. It's easier-- less offensive to my pride. One day, if I do it enough, maybe I'll even be hard enough to be like Iri-ank-e," comes down to a dry enunciation of the Weyrwoman's name, and then she sighs and turns her back on Jo, taking the wine bottle and glass both with her back to her bedroom. Jo doesn't move as she listens. She says nothing as she watches Farideh with the glass, and she says nothing to offer of the couch. It's only once the goldrider moves further towards her bedroom that the bluerider finally moves, picking up her jacket to sling over her shoulder with a disturbed look over her shoulder back toward where Farideh has gone before she makes her way out of the weyr. The only touch that comes is from Tacuseth, the blue lingering something comforting to the queen for a good moment before his touch vanishes altogether. |
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