Logs:An Uncomfortable Threesome
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| RL Date: 9 January, 2016 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys, V'ret, Aidavanth, Evyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A typical (awkward) weyrling dinner time. |
| Where: Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed. "I might see the healers about something for headaches," Lys' offhanded comment answers one of the bluerider's across the way. Dinner time in the living cavern finds the noise a lively din and many people crowding the tables. Though not strictly required, of course, group bonding over dinner does seem to be one of those habits it can be easy to fall into. So here's Lys, already eating what's on her plate as she listens and only obliquely contributes to the ongoing conversation about the topic of the month: visuals, visuals, visuals. With the way she lifts her free hand to rub at her temple, it's possible all the talk makes her want to make that trip to the infirmary now. Crowded, but there's still a place for V'ret next to Lys, right? Because that's his spot, the one he drops his plate into and sits down in, just as proprietary about it as though his name was carved into the table-top. "Am I allowed to forbid certain subjects of conversation?" As someone who just arrived, that's sure to make him popular, right? But, well, the rank hath their privileges, or however that goes. "They're just pictures. It's going to be fine." Jocelyn, meanwhile, is busy disagreeing with the brownrider across from her on one of the minor points from a visualization passed along in class earlier that morning. Arms folded across her chest and fork still stuck into the meat on her plate, she's quite abandoned her half-eaten dinner in favor of her insistent discussion. "It was shaped like a shoe, " she grumbles at some length. "If you bothered to cross-reference the maps, you'd have seen that. Who knows where you'd end up, had that been for real, if you visualized a gravy dish instead." It's a fairly commonplace sight to see her seated next to Lys at dinner, too, and gray eyes turn her way every now and then. Her brow pinches into a frown as she observes the greenrider's discomfort; it apparently bothers her enough that it finally makes her break away from her haranguing of their classmate. "You should get something for that, " she says in a brisk enough aside, tipping a nod in V'ret's direction as he joins them. "They're not just pictures, " she points out, carefully modulating her tone to something more even. "We get one chance to get them right, every time." Lys has a smile for V'ret as he sits, her hand moving to brush his knee briefly beneath the table. "Are you off duty or on, sir?" There's a teasing edge to her question, brows lifting in mild challenge of the bronzerider who was her wingsecond. She turns back from the unconscious slight turn she'd made to greet the wingleader in time to catch Jocelyn's grumble and smile askance at her, mouthing 'shoe' with a teasingly disbelieving look. She reaches for her glass before telling the goldrider, "I will, but only if I need. It's really only that Evyth likes to repeat them and repeat them and repeat them until she has them perfect. It's exhausting. I'll see Red Butte's aerial in my sleep soon enough. "They're important pictures," she tries to mediate as she often does between bronzerider and gold, her tone placating, giving them each a piece of what they want. V'ret winds up making an I-know-that sort of face in Jocelyn's direction, regardless of mediation. "The point is that the last thing that we need right now is more talk about them at the dinner table. Some of us have had more than enough of it during the day, thank you. It's not an order, but call it a polite request." That gratitude, it isn't real gratitude, clearly. But it's consistent; this has clearly been his least favorite topic of conversation since the moment it became a topic of conversation. "I'm just glad we've had mild weather for it, for the most part, and once the snow flies, we'll be properly in a position to go warm up somewhere with a beach, some sunshine?" Even if most of the sunshine in his smile is aimed in the direction of the greenrider. If Jocelyn rolls her eyes faintly for Lys's interaction with V'ret, she's at least almost smiling while she does it. "Well, clearly he's still on-duty enough to give orders couched in requests, so it would probably behoove us to let the man eat in peace." Across from her, the brownrider gives their wingleader a clear expression of relief, excusing himself some moments afterward. "Tell her she can work on them with Aidavanth for a bit, if it gives you some respite, " the redhead suggests offhandedly to Lys, attention apparently settling on resuming usage of knife and fork to work on the remainder of her dinner. "A beach and some sunshine, " she echoes V'ret while cutting up her meat, as though mulling the concept over. "I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself, but it certainly could make for a nice change in scenery." Lys has sunshine in turn for V'ret, but it's distracted, with the relief of, "Could she? That would be fantastic, Joce," to the goldrider, closing her eyes briefly and then sighing in relief as Evyth must immediately take Jocelyn up on the offer of Aidavanth. Lys has a warm smile when she opens her eyes and seems better able to focus on her food. "So which beach should we visit first?" It seems like a better topic and the question is asked of V'ret and Jocelyn as one. She glances sidelong to the goldrider to say, "You'd bring a book, and a pen, and study the whole while," from anyone else that would be a judgment. From Lys, it's only amusement. The word 'we', just there, is one that V'ret seems to reflexively grimace at, but still he manages to answer the question: "I haven't been back to Ista since... before I can remember. Not properly. I'd like to find somewhere with a good sandy beach, sheltered enough that the waves aren't too bad to swim." Look, he's been doing research. Studying up on the important things in life. "If I just wanted to look at it, I'd buy a painting." "Of course. You know she's always happy to work with Evyth, " and Jocelyn glances back up in time to catch that subsequent, warm smile with a satisfied nod before turning back to her own meal. "At least you've been to Ista, " she says of V'ret's answer. "If it's as soothing as people say it is, it could be worth looking at." That's definitely an upward curve to the corners of her mouth, there. For Lys, there's a small shrug, a briefly raised eyebrow. "Oh, I don't know. I imagine I wouldn't want to study the whole while. It might prove to be too relaxing for managing any productive concentration." Pulling her glass toward her for a swallow of water, she adds almost as an afterthought, "Which one do you want to visit first?" "I'd like to go back to Ista," is answer for Jocelyn and agreement with V'ret. "I'll have to fly it long to find some of the places I stayed the turn before last, but I don't think I'd mind flying straight in Ista. How their weyrlings concentrate at all, ever, I'll never know." Lys tells them, her hand finding V'ret's knee under the table. "It would be nice to catch spiderclaws and bake them, too, but that might be getting ambitious for a first trip. I could find more shells, for sure," she smiles toward Jocelyn. "Now that flaming's learned," more or less, "I'm going to let my hair start growing out again." The hand seems to help; V'ret's settles over Lys', there, and he's able to actually laugh without bitterness. "Not since I was... in diapers, probably," he offers to Jocelyn. "All I remember is Crom. I can say that I've seen pictures of spiderclaws, and I find the notion of actually eating them to be a bit unnerving. Like eating bugs. I guess anything's worth trying once?" Though for now, he seems considerably more comfortable with making his way through a much more mundane dinner, even if it's one-handed. Jocelyn makes a face of mock-relief. Dryly, "How fortunate that we Impressed away from all of that so that we can concentrate." Instead of sun, surf and sand, they get snow, ice, and more snow which surely explains why their weyrlinghood program is known for producing well-educated riders. There's a small smile given in return for Lys, one which widens slightly with her last. "Are you, now. I'm planning to do the same." For once, there's something that she and V'ret can agree upon (besides Lys, that is); her nose wrinkles for spiderclaws. "I think I'll pass on that experience. That might be a little too odd." Or too exotic, especially when compared more favorably with their fare for tonight. "Delicious bugs," Lys answers with an amused smile, this time for V'ret, and a timely, playful, "Yes, you never would have survived. All that sun, all that black sand and--" Whatever Lys was going to say is lost to her hurried bite of food, but her cheeks are touched with a blush. "It'll be nice," she says when that's swallowed, "to get to use my swimsuits somewhere worthy of them." Not that the water at 'Reaches doesn't reach balmy temperatures in summer, but... It's not Ista. "I'll braid it for you, when it gets a little longer, if you like," Lys offers to Jocelyn and only after does she look to V'ret to ask so innocently, "Thinking of growing your hair out too, V'ret?" "Are you?" V'ret seems surprised, there, by Jocelyn's agreement. "I would have thought short hair suited you better. More... sensible." Look, he's trying very hard to not make that sound like an insult when it's directed at the goldrider. "I'm just as glad you are, anyway," look at him making heart-eyes at Lys, there. "I'd have a difficult time of it. It seems like that was a different fellow, with the long hair." Different man, with a different girlfriend? "Now, tell me you preferred it, and I'll do it in a heartbeat, of course." "It's easier to care for, no doubt, " says Jocelyn of shorter, more sensible hair, "but I've always preferred my hair a little past my shoulders. This chin-length bob they put me in for our training just doesn't feel right, even now." Somewhere between swimsuits and that adoring look from V'ret to Lys, the goldrider might have lost her appetite. That's surely the most logical explanation for why she abruptly pushes to her feet, cheeks faintly colored. It's awkward to be in the vicinity of someone making eyes at someone else, after all. "Go get a weyr already, " she sniffs wryly, giving both of her classmates another almost amused eyeroll. "Good evening, wingleader. Lys." Her last syllable might be softer than the others, but her stride out is anything but, shoulders held stiffly. To Evyth, Aidavanth pauses in swapping visuals long enough to pass along a flash of images from Jocelyn: sun, sand, Lys-with-long-hair-in-a-swimsuit, although that last part is rather fuzzy since it's something she's yet to see. « She wishes you to tell Lys that she would look lovely, » since that's something she couldn't exactly say over the dinner table. It's subtle, so subtle, but there's a flinch that translates through Lys' hand to V'ret's knee at Jocelyn's words. "I think it'll look great," she offers to the goldrider, manner perhaps a little more sober than before. "Good night, Joce," is offered, too, though she makes no move to follow the goldrider, rather turning her attention back to her food for the next several moments. It's only reasonable, though, isn't it? It's dinner after all. After a few bites, she looks to V'ret, thoughtful. "I never really noticed you before, so I suppose I must like it like this." To Aidavanth, Evyth's touch is unfocused now, in a way it wasn't moments before. « Lys-- wants me to ask you to tell Jocelyn she's sorry. This is hard. » That's troubling to Evyth. It's so hard. Poor everyone involved. "Have a good evening," V'ret bids Jocelyn, though without overmuch attention to her departure. Yes, he's entirely too infatuated to attend more, but at least he avoids making any snippy comments on her exit. The more important subject at hand is, of course, his haircut. "Well, then. I'll consider that question settled. Long hair does generally suit women better, but I mostly had it longer for the lack of easy availability of someone who knew how to wield a pair of scissors, and I do seem to have found a simple enough fix for that." To Evyth, Aidavanth has a sympathetic echo within her own presence for that feeling of troubled, although it's colored more with Jocelyn's discomfort than her own. After a moment, « Jocelyn says that she doesn't owe her an apology. » There is, apparently, nothing to forgive - because Lys is Lys and really, who can blame Zoth's for his infatuation? "Yes," Lys says with an edge of smug humor, "your hairdresser does a wonderful job," if she doesn't say so herself. The breath she draws next comes out heavy, so it's distractingly that she questions, "Should we plan to trim it tonight?" That might be an oblique offer of more than just hair trimming. "Or do you have reports to do, sir?" She doesn't even bat an eye when she uses the title, perhaps a little tongue-in-cheek coming from her. To Aidavanth, Evyth seems reticent, perhaps even a little upset. It's difficult to be in the middle of this. It's not something she enjoys. « Lys doesn't like that it upsets Jocelyn. She doesn't want to hurt her. She's afraid of hurting everyone. She's worried about making choices. » And she's probably said too much. « She loves Jocelyn, I know she does. » She can feel it! But. There's that lingering feeling of 'but.' It isn't all rainbows and sunshine in Aidavanth's world, either, to be this middle-being who relays messages when their riders can't, but there's a lot to consider - not the least of which would be Jocelyn's own feelings. « She isn't exactly hurt, » the orange-gold shares. « She doesn't understand what Lys sees in him, but she isn't - » A pause. Do dragons blush? She almost does. « It's just awkward for her, knowing that she and Zoth's are probably sitting there imagining the same thing. » (To Evyth from Aidavanth) "I like that idea. You know--you using that word might be about the only perk that comes out of all this." All this power, and all V'ret sees is paperwork. But better paperwork than more time spent hanging around with people so prone to more conversations about betweening. "If I go now, I can make some progress on the reports, and you can come up later?" His plate isn't quite empty, but he takes one last bite before covering it with a napkin, clearly not intending to finish the rest. To Aidavanth, Evyth still isn't happy about it, shared burden or no. It doesn't stop her from helping, of course. Her form of help now is to explain, « She imagines what they both imagine. » There's a brief hazy image of Lys and Jocelyn on a beach with black sand, a wingsail shielding them from the worst of the sun: Jocelyn with a book, Lys with some cords to braid. « She imagines a life with Jocelyn. She imagines one with V'ret. She imagines one with both and knows that one can never be. » It's all a difficult problem, one that makes Lys' heart ache when she thinks on it too long. So long as she doesn't think... "Sure," Lys answers easily. "Just let me know when." She squeezes his knee lightly before letting her hand slip away and she's back to focusing on her food, perhaps trying to drone out that conversation he doesn't want to hear. Only, it won't be that much longer after V'ret takes his leave that Lys does, too. Maybe she's just going to see the healers in the meantime. Maybe she'll get that headache to abate somehow. |
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