Logs:Normal Social Interaction
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| RL Date: 31 December, 2013 |
| Who: Ghena, Rhey |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ghena thwarts Rhey's intention to skulk. Social interaction fails. |
| Where: Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 6, Month 9, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'laer/Mentions, Klohi/Mentions |
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| Riders' Lounge, High Reaches Weyr About as high up the bowl wall as it is possible to get before hitting clear sky, right up against the rim, this ledge is tiny, narrow and not terribly inviting. Though angled towards the sun, there's not enough room to properly stretch out, and that same angle ensures it receives the worst of bad weather, with no shelter whatsoever. From above, there's not even an obvious passage inside, as if this particular ledge is, in the end, nothing more than a natural outcropping. It's only from atop the ledge itself that the cleverly concealed entrance becomes clear, angled into the stone as it is. Inside, there's a cavernous space, more than making up for the stinginess of the ledge. There's one large main room, and a much smaller back room that could probably be used as a bedroom - if this weyr were in traditional usage. Instead, the main cavern is largely filled with a collection of mismatched tables and chairs, with a trolley at the far end that contains a prodigious amount of liquor. Old, but still impressive, hangings cover the walls, all depicting scenes of High Reaches in glory. The back room has been turned into a storage area, with several cases of whisky and a variety of other spirits ready and waiting. A strange pipe contraption comes through the ceiling and towards the stone floor, where a large bucket sits beneath it. A lever turns on water from the pipe: fresh rain or snow, ready for drinking. Somewhere along the line, word filtered down to the weyrlings that there was a new place to explore, a place that took wings to get to. Cue Ghena's discovery of the Rider's lounge, which seems to be somewhat quiet and mostly empty. Of course she doesn't mind the serve your self-atmosphere, she's already found the last pouch of nuts, and settled herself with a concoction that could only be invented by someone without any sense of taste. The autumn air whiffles through now and then, and she takes up the better part of a chair. The advent of private weyrs has had the unsurprising result of further freeing Rhey from the burden of spending time with his fellow weyrlings outside of classes: he shows up, he quietly participates as little as possible without catching attention, and then he leaves again. Rosvelth is, as ever, more sociable-- but there's not much he can say about his rider, and what he does. It's perhaps surprising, then, that the boy's slender figure comes around the corner from the ledge, skulking in that inconspicuous way that would probably work better if there were more people around for him to blend in with. It is perhaps unfortunate for Rhey that he is spotted, and perhaps even more unfortunate that Ghena is in a friendly mood. Knioth is content to give his larger brother greeting in the form of a deep sleepy rumble. "Rh'mis! You gotta try this stuff!" She is clearly willing to share the abomination, which she holds out as though she assumes he will come and sit with her or really as though they have been good old friends when in fact they probably aren't. Silly thing about assumptions they are usually wrong. "Nothing better after a day off getting bossed 'round by a green." Rh'mis-- well, no, it's not that he freezes: that would be too obvious. No, it's a split-second kind of thing, not even worth being called a pause, before he makes a decision and alters his path towards his fellow weyrling. It's obviously not what he had in mind... but it's better than potentially drawing more attention to himself. "I'll pass," he says, with a wary glance towards her drink, and a shake of his head. He sits, managing not to seem awkward in doing so although his expression remains cautious. "What's wrong with greens? Or is it just... that one." Ghena eyes him suspiciously, before shrugging and gulping down a swig, It would probably serve better as a cleaning solution or paint thinner than a drink, but she isn't about to lose face by letting on to that fact. "Missing out, good stuff this. Very good stuff." Then again insanity is a possibility. " 'S not so much greens, as much as the bossing - really don't care for the bossing." Mutter, mutter, mutter. "Where'd ya settle up anyway on the cliffs? I found this nice little number that was all furnished and everything. Didn't need cleaning or anything." "If you just keep your head down and do what you need to do," advises Rhey, who has been following this advice more or less since day one, "you won't attract her attention. It's only for a month, and then we're one month closer to--" He stops, and tries a smile, though not a terribly wide one. "Oh, just a place. Nothing special," he adds, evasively, though his tone seems easy enough. "We don't need much." « That, » says Rosvelth to Knioth, breaking in - he's been listening, « is a lie. We need a lot of things, and we're going to have them, too. Soon. » His mind gleams with the possibility of treasures untold. All his. Knioth rumbles in agreement an image of a ledge overflowing with what one man may call junk, or another might deem treasure floating to the brown. « Mayhap thee saw this one? » The blue isn't really a good judge of what others might deem treasure or not. His idea is of course brightly woven banners and shiny shiny metal. Ghena snorts, "Is that what ya call it. Cause I call it boring. Really, really boring." « Junk, » is Rosvelth's assessment, though it comes with a definite indication that he's been through that particular ledge, just in case. « Not worth it. There was a lovely sparkly ledge, but it was just too far away. I don't want to be all the way up the top here. » He must be pulling these recollections from his rider's head. In any case, he dismisses them all. "There's nothing wrong with boring," says Rhey, firmly. "Boring saves lives." « Sparkly? » Curious tones and the flash of armor and chain accompany the thought. « High can be good, strengthens the wings. » Ghena eyes Rh'mis thoughtfully a moment. "You know, aside from when Lythronath wrecked your things, I think this is quite possibly the most I've ever heard you speak. You should try it more often." Speaking she must mean. For Boring? "Eh, maybe. Doesn't stop it from being boring. Besides - not like we will ever fly thread. This is all just going through the motions." "Why?" counters Rhey in return, though he can't stop himself from nodding in agreement to that last remark of Ghena's - it really is just 'going through the motions', and even more so for him than for most of the others. "I'm out of place. We all know that." « No, but it's too far from the action, » explains Rosvelth, with a huff, as he mantles his wings carefully around himself. « Rhey would've liked that, but I insisted. For a boy who deals in information, he sure does like keeping to himself sometimes. » Lame, right? So lame. Clearly lame, Knioth agrees from the chuff he makes. « Harder to spot which females shine I'd think, but could give an advantage in the chase of such a maiden. What good is knowledge without beauty for the eyes to feast upon? » Ghena shrugs, "You ain't out of place, Rosvelth sort of proves that." Another swig of the brain melting substance, "Besides you can go through the motions of social interaction just as easily as drills. Who knows, you might suddenly discover you like it." "You're all a little different from the kind of people I'm used to," says Rhey, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that must be deliberate. "I prefer not to involve myself." « Huh? » Rosvelth seems quietly bewildered by Knioth's words, letting salt water rush over his thoughts and protect them. « I don't know what you're talking about. » He's a slow developer, apparently. Ghena lifts a brow at that curiously. "So what, you plan on sinking into the background of the Weyr, or do you think your just going to hop on his back and go back to wherever it was before?" Not without an edge of sarcasm, Knioth meanwhile gives the mental equivilant of a shrug. « Shiny things. » Is all he expands, at least he's not composing sonnets. « Any new treasures found? » Attempting at maintaing conversation. Rhey shrugs, doing a reasonably good impression of someone who doesn't care, though it's not perfect. There's something in his gaze. "I was useful, before," he says, simply. "I'll just have to work out how I can be, again. I have... it's nothing." He's giving Ghena a wary look. Perhaps he's just remembered who her brother is. « Shiny things, » repeats Rosvelth, and at least this seems to please him. « Not yet. But there will be more, soon. I just need to-- soon. » Ghena rolls her shoulders, "Just - think before you do something stupid." Is she really giving this advice? "And remember that you are his for life, meaning yo're responsible if you go somewhere where you can't afford to feed him." Browns are big after all. She tilts her head curious, "Plenty of ways to be useful, I'm sure." Ghena can't read minds at least, not that it would matter. She and her brother have clearly been on outs since a certain event at the springs. « Just have to? » Which just goes to show how much Rhey has been paying attention. Probably. "I'm not stupid," he says, not stiffly, but with a dark note to his voice. "I'm well aware of my situation." It sounds terribly clinical: not Rosvelth, but his situation. « Things, » explains Rosvelth. « Oh, I think we're leaving. He's annoyed, woo-eee. » Sure enough, Rhey is standing. "I have to go." Ghena shrugs. "Have fun in 'not reality'" She tones waving, completely unbothered by it. "Feel free to come by and get annoyed any time." Because it qualifies as social interaction right? « Does he get that way often? » Knioth curious. Rh'mis doesn't answer. He's too busy making his way back to the door as unobtrusively as possible. Argument? No, there was no argument. Everything's fine. « Sometimes, » admits the brown, as he launches up into the air again in search of his rider. « He tries not to care, but he does. Fish out of water, really. » But his fish out of water. |
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