Logs:Adrift
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| RL Date: 9 July, 2011 |
| Who: Devaki, Riorde |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Riorde and Devaki talk about the former's fight, and about marriage again -- this time with each other. And it's official: everyone loves Iolene! |
| Where: Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Iolene/Mentions, Rhaelyn/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions, Viremi/Mentions |
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| It's late -- and cold. The snow falls steadily, drifting down and coating the lake's shore in a soft white blanket. Normal people choose not to be out in this weather, or this late -- probably both good reasons for Devaki to be out. He's bowed to the elements and, for once, wears boots that look like they've been worn in by someone else. The footprints, combined with the circular indentation of his walking stick make him pretty easy to track, if one were inclined -- not that he's difficult to find anyway, the sound of his faint cough audible in the quiet, chill night air. Riorde can't stay indoors constantly, though sometimes it seems like she tries. On the supposition that if she can't see the dark walls of the bowl, they won't seem liable to cascade down upon her, Riorde braves the elements. It doesn't work; the knot is still there at the base of her throat tightening towards a chokehold, but she's stubborn and stir-crazy and desperate enough to blow through the snow anyway. Before long, she spots the tracks and, before indecision gets the better of her and the falling snow obliterates them, hurries along head-down to find where they lead. The cough tells her she's close; coming through the silent snowfall, her voice sounds disembodied as she calls out, "Dev!" The wind calls his name, or so it would seem. Devaki reacts -- stopping dead, using his free hand to pull the fur draped over his shoulders around him. He watches -- listens for the sound again, and his delighted laughter is audible when Riorde becomes visible. "I thought I was going mad, that the wind was calling me." His familiar smile quirks his lips as he waits for Riorde to join him so he needn't yell anymore. His gaze lingers on her, studying her carefully, no doubt to determine any obvious injuries from her rumored fight. Laughter draws out her smile, though mostly Riorde seems tired and anxious as she appears. Snowflakes settle and stick on her hat and in the ends of her hair. "No," she says, coming to a stop just before him, "just me." Aware of the way Devaki's inspecting her, the girl first looks a little uncomfortable, then wry. "I hit Rhaelyn," she owns up. The only damage visible is a bruise high on one of Riorde's cheekbones, which has started to get that sickly green tone as it fades; the rest of her injuries are hidden under her clothes. "Just you," Devaki agrees, lifting his hand as she stops in front of him, fingers hovering just shy of touching that bruise. There's something in that expression, like a protectiveness that would undoubtedly make her bristle, but it's gone swiftly and he doesn't give it voice. Instead, he holds out one hand with his fur as if inviting her in, much like that time after they first arrived. "Over Taikrin?" His guess is casual, though undoubtedly he has a good information source since he doesn't seem too surprised by her admission. The way Riorde's eyes flash to Devaki show her surprise and the red in her cheeks her embarrassment. "Yeah," she admits after a pause, biting her lip, this confession harder. Unhesitatingly, she darts in under the fur as it's held up and huddles in close against Devaki's side. And then her slight frame is shaking, Riorde quite obviously trying to keep in tears, face furious and desperate and scared. "She's such a bitch," she growls out first before she loses her control further and her voice turns into a wail. "Everything's so /unfair!/" Devaki lets his arm drop around Riorde and with it, the fur, providing warmth. His gaze is steady on her as she speaks, and he doesn't interrupt and, indeed, is silent for moments after she lets out her wail. There's a slight humor to his voice is he speaks, gentle as it is, "Ri-- she was always a bitch. Even on the island. At least she's consistent." With a twitch of lips, he ducks his head somewhat to try and study her expression. "You never worried about her opinion then; why is she getting to you now?" "I know, I know." Riorde scowls in a bid to regain rule over herself but her body betrays her, and her shoulders continue to tremble. She bites her lower lip again so it won't tremble too. A moment passes before she judges herself able to speak, and then words come tumbling out, one after the other. Riorde can't seem to speak fast enough, and her breath comes in shallow intakes, sometimes catching. "I don't know. Guess it was easy not to care when we were there cause you can go where you like, go off on your own, but here it's -- you're just trapped. You can't do anything." Perhaps Devaki mistakes the trembling for cold, perhaps not. Either way he tightens his arm around Riorde, sympathy in his pale gaze. "I know the feeling. We can't... be... who we are supposed to be, here. And not all of us belong-- /I/ don't belong here." He seems certain of that, though he is, perhaps, not entirely comfortable with the admission, breathing harsh all of a sudden and another cough rattling out in the cool air. His gaze is fixed on the sky as he asks, "This Taikrin-- does she mean a lot to you?" "Neither do I." Riorde sounds miserable as she shares the sentiment, all those dreams of how escape from the island would magically change everything for the better coming up short. "I'm useless; I hate the work they give us. I should be out, /doing/ something..." She rests her undamaged cheek against Devaki's shoulder, taking up worry so she can postpone an uncomfortable answer. "You're still coughing?" Concern momentarily wins out over the other emotions she can't keep in; Devaki being physically frail just isn't /right./ She tips her head away to get a better look at him, hesitant when it comes to talking about Taikrin. "She was the one who rescued me." Riorde's reply still leaves the question unanswered. It seems she'll stop there until she adds self-consciously, "It's not -- I hardly know her." After a longer pause: "It's not like it's /you./" Riorde's already lost control of herself; she might as well add one more bold confession. Another laugh rattles in Devaki's throat as she speaks of doing something. "Why do you think I'm out here? I miss-- I miss the walk from the island to our fishing spot. I miss the afternoons dozing in the summer sun waiting for the line to pull. It feels like -- like everyone else is happy, and that it isn't right to be jealous of them." On the subject of his cough, he just shakes his head. "It's just the weather." He's lightly dismissive, and casual for all it's a stretch of the truth. He's silent while she answers and, while he's coming up with a response, her latter words keep him quiet, in turn. His head bows, and the silence stretches. Then quietly, "At Turnover... it was Io. That I was with." For an islander such a thing would mean marriage, though there's pointedly no mention of such. Riorde doesn't have to voice her agreement; it's palpable in the cast of her expression, how she's finally able to stop shivering in mute anger and fear. "I'm not," she says to the subject of happiness, forlorn. "At least, not now." She doesn't believe that Devaki's ever-present cough can be entirely blamed on the weather, looking dubious, but she doesn't question it. In any case, the girl's silent as she waits for Devaki to say something, with her shallow breath turning to steam in the cold air. Riorde doesn't say anything at first. Then; "Io?" She doesn't step away, but she does achieve a careful distance in the way she pronounces the syllables of the younger girl's name. It doesn't last long as her thoughts turn towards Iolene. "She hates me now, she'll hardly even speak to me, I didn't mean to get her involved...what are you going to do?" Two separate lines of thought are mashed into one stream of consciousness flow. "Io couldn't possibly hate anyone. Least of all you." Devaki, at least, seems certain of that, if not so certain of his future. He's not unaware of that tone, and it elicits a slow exhale of breath. As to what he will do? Normally he is the one with all the answers. With certainty. But there's none in the faint answer that follows, "I don't know. I /wish/ I knew. I feel like-- like I'm adrift." There's a slight shift of his weight, like he wants to draw her closer, but instead he leans as if to press a kiss against her hair. A small, graceless snort forms Riorde's response. After all, she's the one who has to work with Iolene and Rhaelyn every day, and all that bad blood between the three hasn't let up yet. She can't answer the question she put forward any more than Devaki can, and understanding shows in her expression. When he leans in, Riorde's utterly still, not immediately responsive. Then it's one more disclosure to join the rest. "My father told me I have to get married." Rebelliousness always makes Riorde sound younger, but this time there's a sort of cold, more mature knowledge mixed in. "Shimana looks like she's on the warpath, I'm sure he's said something -- I've been dodging her." Riorde says it all straight-forwardly, as if she's just delivering information, but there's a unexpressed question in her regard. "Oh Ri," Devaki exhales it, part sympathy, part apology. He's never shied from his duties before, but then, none of the matches have been for his closer friends as yet. A noise rattles in his throat like a cough withheld, and he shifts the angle of his body. Adjusting the furs over both their shoulders, he'll -- if she'll let him -- slip a hand around her waist. "We should head back in." He says and, as he takes a step into that newly fallen snow, it seems as if, at first, he won't say anything more. But he can't help himself, "Do you want to get married? To anyone?" Riorde brings up her outer hand to hold the shared fur in place, tugging it around her skinny shoulders. Taking her cue from Devaki, she mirrors his gesture and moves to put her other arm around his waist, releasing a rather despairing sigh as she falls in with him. "Not to /Khorde./ Or Celadion, or Elgin, or Tom, or..." She could go on to list all of the eligible young men. Past embarrassment, she glances sidelong to add, "If you were free, then maybe then. I don't know. Right now I just want to crawl in a hole and come out in the summer." There's a smile at first, and then a grin, and then laughter from Devaki as she begins listing everyone. He glances at her sidelong, pale eyes amused, though his expression sobers somewhat at her latter statement. "Would you really marry me? I don't think you-- would you be happy being married, having children, raising them?" He's never seen her in that light, and now it's in his thoughts, considering it. "I couldn't stand the thought of you unhappy, with me." He's still walking, but his steps are slow and deliberate, a slight unevenness to his gait offset by the walking stick. His voice is somewhat rough, but it could just be the chillness of the air. "Jaques... he and Evie look so happy, and they were best friends before. But they're not-- not happy." Riorde makes a face as Devaki rightly points out the incongruity between her character and the reality of that possible future. "Maybe not. Maybe I should cut my hair short and become a man." Slow suits her, puts off the inevitability of solitary, circular thought. She's calmer now, in sharing that desperation with Devaki. She glances up at him, quick and startled. "Because of the baby?" Ri guesses. "No. Even before. /Because/ they were friends. They love each other, but I don't think they're... in love." Devaki shakes his head, slowly. He's silent for a short time, just the crunch of their boots and that stick breaking fresh snow. Then: "I like your hair. Besides, you don't have to do that here, to go your own way. It's not-- it's not the island." The words, even as he says them, cause him to frown. "Did you talk with Raum?" It may seem like a change of subject, though for him it flows from one question to the next. Jaques and Evie's predicament gives Riorde something to mull over with her frowns and silences. There is, at least, a bit of a smile for the comment about her hair. "We don't have to," she concedes slowly, "but they won't let us do anything else. And we're - what's the word you used? - adrift. I never really liked the idea before, but at least getting married would be anchoring." Her tone admits a certain appeal, though she's still looking on the snow underfoot with disfavor. "Not yet." She trades one question for another, conversation looping back round as she bluntly asks, "Are you in love with Io?" "Adift," Devaki echoes, and agrees. "Why don't we... I'll buy you time. Viremi will ask me to come up with a match, and I can... I can stall him a bit. At least until you -- we -- have time to think about it." He glances sidelong at her as if to see how she'll take that suggestion. The topic of Iolene causes him to misstep a little, though thankfully with the stick, and his arm still around Riorde, it's a brief misstep. "I-- I don't know. She's always been just a kid who hung out with us now and then, you know? And then-- it's-- it's hard not to think of her differently now." Which doesn't exactly answer the question, but the fact that he doesn't seem sure is probably answer enough at this stage. "Okay." Riorde settles for that with relief. "Thanks." At Dev's waist, her hand gives a quick squeeze. She pulls at him a little when he trips, then waits to go on, seeming to accept the answers about Iolene as much as she accepts Devaki's proposition of stalling in hope of a solution. "I kind of think she'll always be a kid," she confesses. "You know, all big eyes and a million questions and stomping around. But also one who throws herself in to break up fights," like she tried to do between Rhaelyn and Riorde, "and sounds like her Grams. That's our Io." Riorde claims her too, with unmistakable fondness and fierce love. Devaki simply nods his head a little, like it's nothing, then slants her a sidelong, reassuring smile. "She really does sound like her Grams, doesn't she?" Devaki says with a low laugh that contains much the same fondness at Riorde's does. "Did she really try and break up your fight?" he shakes his head, marvelling silently. His steps slow as they reach the entrance, and he hesitates there, reluctant -- to enter, or to leave, either one. "I should... check on Viremi, then get some sleep. You should, too." "Yeah. Launched in with her little fists." Though Iolene wasn't throwing punches, the exaggeration suits her. Riorde looks unmistakably guilty as they come to a halt, not yet letting her arm fall. "She was on my side up until the end." A nod for the advice, but she lingers too under the auspices of stomping off snow from her boots. The description earns a low, amused laugh from Devaki, and it's clear that he's imagining Iolene wading in with fists flying. "Do me a favor," he asks, in a low voice. "Never teach that girl to fight. She's dangerous enough as it is." The grin lingers even after his laughter has faded. He lets his arm drop from around her, but only so he can brush a bit of snow from her hair, studying her silently a beat. There's a hesitation there, in the wake of their earlier talk, and with an exhale, lets his hand drop. "Night, Ri," he murmurs, pulling his fur around him and turning to had inside. Devaki's request restores a little bit of Riorde's otherwise lacking good humour, and she grins too. The smile dwindles slowly, the corners of her mouth losing their lift and lips coming together until she has a more solemn aspect as she looks back steadily at Devaki, both arms coming to rest at her sides. "Night," she echoes, and, restraining her sigh, goes in as well to take herself off to bed. |
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