Logs:Facebook Official
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| RL Date: 24 June, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, T'mic |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: T'mic and Faryn get a little bit closer to knowing what's going on. Also, Yesia gets outed. Oops. |
| Where: Mountain Meadow, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 2, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: It is a rare day of cloudless sunshine, though the temperatures are markedly colder. |
| Mentions: Yesia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: I mean, not updated relationship status official, but there are definitely cryptic selfies going on now, with like, chins on top of heads, and two pairs of feet in the snow, and stuff. |
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Mountain Meadow A long, broad valley sandwiched between taller mountain peaks, its lush grasses stand at waist height in the summertime and sway gently in the constant breeze, dying back only in early winter. In spring, the meadow comes alive, turning the ocean of green into a sea of reds, blues, yellows and oranges as tiny flowers burst into bloom. At dawn and dusk, small herds of wild herbivores might be seen at the end of the valley as shadowy shapes who keep well away from visitors. Winding along the edge of the mountain base as it follows a downward slope, a small stream provides clear, fresh water from the snow-capped peaks. It's not exotic, the meadow in the mountains just outside of High Reaches. But when your dragon can't yet go between, it's accessible, even on a busy schedule, and different. And after several days with his head down for duties, T'mic needs somewhere accessible, and different. The company is an added bonus, and bringing Faryn here has the weyrling bluerider's chest puffed out just a bit, despite the bags under his eyes and the slightest sagginess of facial features. It has Jorrth quite chuffed as well, as they drop down in the waning sunlight of the late afternoon. It's crisp (which is High Reaches speak for 'freezing'), and it's clear, and the snow sparkles, and even though there are another dragon's prints here from earlier today, it doesn't seem to detract from the wonder in Jorrth's mind; wonder that he wants them all to experience, when he gives an extra aerial circle before landing. Faryn's been here on horseback, once or twice, and the proximity to the weyr makes it a little odd to consider going by dragonback, until it's not odd at all. Faryn seems perfectly content to take the ride, and the company, especially given the weather and the quickness of it, even if she gives T'mic's state a concerned look when he first proposes it. Regardless, she holds her concern long enough for them to get to the meadow, and seems to at least briefly have forgotten that she was concerned at all, instead noting as she dismounts and pulls her coat closer around her and her hat down over her ears, "I remember when I was certain he wouldn't be able to carry anything bigger than a kitten." "I was sort of worried I was gonna be too big for him," admits T'mic when his feet touch the ground. A gloved hand pushes its palm flat up against Jorrth's big flat head. Jorrth pushes back, until his rider has to side-shuffle in the snow to keep from falling over. "Faranth. The first time he came running past me and tried to wrap his tail in behind my knees and I dropped?" There's a broad grin breaking his face, breaking the tired a bit, too. "Half the barracks saw and everything." Faryn is next in line, that big blue head coming around expectantly. And a bit more gently, 'cause, no mental warning. "Ooof. You lug." That's probably for Jorrth, but it might also be in sympathetic appreciation for the plight of a growing dragon. Either way, she reaches up to touch Jorrth's muzzle gently, or gently for a dragon and roughly for anything smaller than. "Speaking of worried," she says, cutting a sideways glance at T'mic, her brow arching. "You look --" At least she has the tact not to verbalize 'like shit', but the implication hangs. She's learning! Jorrth makes sure to push just as gently (so a little too hard, for a human, maybe) back at Faryn's hand, then snorts warm dragon breath out to condense in the air, and backs up just enough that he can start jump-trot-exploring the clearing. Even if he knows it already. This is newer snow. It's different. "I'm okay," is a trained response by now. "Just busy." A smile to prove it. "We're wingleaders now. For this about a month anyway. Don't think I told you. And there's just... lots going on. Everyone's getting all grown up and stuff, I guess. Weyrs and flights, and we're going to be flaming soon, and then after that, learning to jump," like Jorrth? spring! "between..." Oh. "I'm okay." Faryn edges closer to T'mic with her arms wrapped around her middle, because it's cold and there is no longer dragon warmth to make up for it. She listens to his update with a small smile that has a sharp edge. "You should...you know. Sleep sometimes." She uncurls an arm just so she can tap the undersides of her eyes, then point to his. "Congratulations and all that, but it looks like you're already burning yourself out, and that's before the actual flames." The way she says it suggests she doesn't like it. "You're almost done, though," is a little more cheerful for him. "Just, be careful." "I do," insists T'mic. But his shoulders drop a bit, and his weight shifts back onto his heels, and he nods and listens. "I will," is amended. "I promise. I've got Farideh for a wingsecond anyway, so it's not like I'm doing it alone. And I've got Jorrth, and you just... you can't know how good he is at all this." Jorrth, who is currently digging his head into a snowbank, and then shovel-pushing it from one side of the meadow to the other, leaving a trail. T'mic watches for a moment, then turns his attention back to Faryn. And reaches out a gloved hand to bump at hers. "I promise I will." And then he's quite obviously watching. And quite obviously waiting. For something. "That," Faryn says, bumping him with a shoulder, "is the sort of automatic answer that people use when they're lying, T'mic. At least sleep this month. Don't go...playing with fire without sleeping. Or with --" She shudders a little bit at whatever thought crosses her mind, and she lets the silence fall too, a smile on her lips as she watches Jorrth do...Jorrthy things. She'll even catch his hand in her own, if she can. A twisting up of the mouth, and eventually, "What's on your mind?" "I promise." And he does. And she can catch him. And where there's that usual, relaxed ease that sort of follows T'mic around like a little baby blue dragon, this time he grips a bit more tightly. "Uh," is the first word. And for as simple as things ought to be to make it into his mind at all, it sure takes him a lot of working his jaw around nothing and even licking his lips a couple times before he figures out, "I think... I... don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want any other girls? If I get the choice? I mean I said no. 'Cause of you. Is that...?" He lifts her hand, and his hand, a little. If he could tag it before his question mark, he would. That seems to be enough to satisfy Faryn -- the third promise is the charm, or something. She looks absolutely bemused as he starts speaking, and it's cold enough that the red on her cheeks was probably there before he starte talking, but her head tilts off to the side, her smile vanishing at once. "Offended," she laughs, a little huff that makes a ghost of her breath around her mouth. "I'm - why would I be offended?" So, it's not an answer, not quite, but it's also not her running off screaming into the cold mountains. "Wait. Who asked you? Why are -- did they lift the ban on sex and just ask you all to start sleeping with each other to celebrate flights?" And he's still got her hand. That's a win, isn't it? "Well I mean-" and then he waits, as instructed. And then pushes his lips flat together, and makes a 'hmm' noise. "Just another weyrling. The girls are supposed to... practice. And I think it was just because I'm pretty much the only one who's nice to her - and now I think she thinks I've been mean to her? I don't know. I tried to explain it. She gets this bad reputation. But it doesn't matter. And you can't tell anyone." The last bit is the end of his realisation, and attempted cover. It's a bit of a plea. "But it's not like we have to is what I meant. Just... I don't know, it just didn't feel like it should." Then, the almost frustrated look at Jorrth, who's looked up from his snowplowing. "Like is important." Some people's dragons. It takes a larger weyrling class for a statement like "just another weyrling" to divert any sort of probing. Having been amongst them for long enough, running through her tally of the small candidate class and the smaller weyrling class yields a handful of suspects - especially since he specified gender, too. Her probing to narrow it down is not particularly gentle. "Yay tall?" she puts her hand a short distance above her own head, "Buxom? Red..dish hair?" Then, in case he won't answer that, "Did she tell you that? That you were mean for it?" That seems to amuse her more than anything, because that's hardly the right word for it. "Faryn," and it's got that same almost pleading tone to it. The word 'buxom' has T'mic making a face. "She was probably feeling foolish. She put herself out there, and..." Those big shoulders lift and fall. "Can we just leave it?" And not call her 'buxom' anymore also? "It doesn't matter." Jorrth has snorted, and gone back to his digging. "T'mic, she's terrible. She's - have you ever met anyone more unpleasant in your life? It's almost galling that little green chose--" and she snaps her mouth closed on the end of the sentence, though it's probably transparent what she was going to say. She rolls onward, instead, saying, "I'm surprised she didn't just pin you against a wall and try, the slattern." Jorrth's snort pulls her attention, at least briefly, long enough to think. And turn back to him. "Did she try to?" Which is the answer to his question; they can't leave it. Not just yet. T'mic's frown just goes deeper when she mentions Aeaeth. While the herder's attention has shifted, the weyrling rider thinks to take a deep breath, and close his eyes for a moment longer than a couple blinks, and regroup. That patience is back when she presses. Right alongside that omnipresent tired. "It doesn't matter what she did. I told her 'no' and then she backed off and Jorrth and I left." Matter of fact, carefully laid out. Somewhere in this, he's dropped her hand. Faryn studies him very closely, and when her hand is free she makes no comment, only tucks it back into the warmth between her elbow and side. It's perhaps his tiredness that makes her relent, a murmured, "Okay. Okay, you're right." But she's frowning. "You didn't have to tell her no. And - ah - I'm glad you did. Really. Sorry, I just...assumed. It was obvious. The thought of her --" Her nose wrinkles, her gaze down on her boots as she scuffs a rock with her toe, trying to dislodge it out of the snow. It's unconscious, the copying of her pose, though his arms don't tuck so tightly. T'mic runs warm. "Yes, I did," is insistent. Still a bit tired, but insistent. Now, he bites his lip, and looks back over to his dragon making designs in the snow, and epic snowbanks too. "Soon enough, lots of it is just going to be... sex. Just that. So right now?" He looks back to Faryn now, and he's warmed some. (T'mic runs warm, remember.) "I did have to tell her no." It would be better if the bit of a smile to go on the end of that weren't quite as nervous. In contrast, Faryn's smile is, well, not particularly nervous. And she's not particularly warm, either, though that is not exactly a secret to anyone, these days. So her smile now - lighter, most definately amused, a little smug, a little pleased - is perhaps the oddity in this situation, as is her demurral, "If you say so." She nods, lips pursed as her eyes rove the clearing, taking in Jorrth and his task, and everything else but T'mic as she takes another step forward, because she knows he runs warm. "Because you'd rather be with me," is not a question, despite the gentle uptick in tone at the end, and it's not coy or exactly playful. It does request a response, a confirmation in plain words, and her eyes do too, when she raises them to his. Jorrth's task has suddenly paused. He's looking straight at the snow, and not the big pile he's amassed at the end of the trail he's made, but at a little bit of it that's fluffed off to the side. T'mic doesn't go along with him this time, even if his dragon's interest tugs. T'mic looks down at Faryn, swallowing, and tonguing at a corner tooth a little. His lips pull up at the sides a little, open enough for a flash of teeth and a puff of air that's almost a laugh, which precedes a rolling sort of, "Yeah." Faryn laughs, another huff, another ghost of her breath around her mouth as it fogs in the cold. "I wondered if you'd ask," she says, teasing. "I thought you were going to make me do it, at the end of all this." There's a gesture for him and his knot, and for poor ignored Jorrth. "It's not very clear what you're allowed to do, or what your restrictions are. They should really send out pamphlets with progress reports." She rocks back on her heels a little, then forward, her words slow like she's still considering, "But I'd rather be with you, too." And with that, in one quick cascade, T'mic's all red in the face. He takes a breath when she rocks forward, apparently wordless, and let's it out into a grin thereafter. And remains decidedly ruddy. "Okay," comes from him next. "I don't want it to be like... a time limit or anything, you know? I just wanted to say. He doesn't even get it really-" And then, a laugh, and he turns to look at where Jorrth is looking, and reaches again for Faryn's hand, or arm, or any of those things. "Crystals," said with a nod of his chin toward that patch of snow. "All crystals that turn just into water." Faryn lets him take her hand, relieved for it, and relieved moreover to be able to press against his side and steal what warmth she can. "Sure," she says, though she turns a critical eye on Jorrth. "He'll have to figure it out, eventually," could be threat or promise, or something else altogether. She doesn't press the issue, if that's what it is, instead looking at Jorrth's snow-drifts and that pile he's found so interesting, content to just be there with them, for now. "Yeah," agrees T'mic. "Almost kinda worried for when he does, though." It's easy, then, to fall quiet, and watch the end of the investigation, through his eyes and Jorrth's interchangeably. It's easy, too, to lean back just a bit against Faryn, and at one point even turn and push his lips right to the top of her hat. They'll head back pretty soon. |
Contents
Comments
Roz (22:44, 25 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
OMG STOP. STOP IT RIGHT NOW. SHUT. UP. I LOVE IT. HI.
K'del (22:46, 25 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
OMG SO CUTE.
Edyis (23:20, 25 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
<3 <3 <3
Faryn (00:42, 26 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
T'mic pages: If this were Faryn's head instead of a duck's, this would work!
T'mic pages: Sadly...
You paged T'mic with 'Photoshop a tiny Faryn head on it.'.
T'mic pages: But keep the duck neck.
T'mic pages: It was her long, swanlike neck that first attracted him...
I'm here to make photoshop relationship pictures for everyone, FYI.
Alida (01:37, 26 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
- falls over snicker-giggling at the duck-necked Faryn!!!* You two are just frickin' too muich!!! :D <3
T'mic (05:31, 26 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
Yup, nearly lost my tea through my nose this morning.
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