Logs:To Murky Pasts And Brighter Futures
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| RL Date: 28 January, 2016 |
| Who: Farideh, Jo |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh and Jo get boozy and share secrets. |
| Where: Farideh's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 12, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Ethran/Mentions, Deetan/Mentions, Zoas/Mentions, Jothan/Mentions |
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| With the changing seasons, perhaps comes a change of heart. What was once all heavy and bold, blue and gold in reflection of High Reaches' standard, is now light and feminine. Some of the old trappings still remain, but mostly it's all new: curved pink-colored velvet couches nestle around a large circular table, taking up the most space in front of the hearth, gray chairs with high backs, and a collection of bookcases and wonderful cabinetry to better show off her glassware and wine bottles. Sitting at one of those new sofas, feet tucked up under her dress, is Farideh. She's nibbling on pieces of fruit and re-arranging, not for the first time, the vase of flowers in the middle of the table; around it are the delicacies she promised from Nerat and beyond. It's warm and inviting, and one of her assistants putters in the background, setting aright clutter. When Jo arrives, it's with little fanfare. At least she's dressed in something other than her usual: a deep blue halter with long dark pants and her tackled up away from her face. She has a bottle in her hand when she steps in, taking in the weyr surroundings before her dark gaze lands on Farideh with a rather wry, "Kitten. I hope ya didn' do all this just for me." It's an obvious tease, and she lifts the bottle as she walks in with a brisk, "Somethin' sweet'n savory." The goldrider's fingers still on the stems they've been maneuvering, and hazel eyes flick to the bluerider as she enters. "I didn't do it only for you," is her sly response, corners of her mouth lifting. "Winter always gives me the blues around here. I miss the Igen heat. There's no reason my weyr has to mirror that. I think it looks much better." She moves a couple of the small nosegays on the edges of the bouquet and then sits back, seemingly satisfied. "Come on. Sit down. Tell me about your day," she says, patting the springy cushion beside her. "Zoas? Can you grab us two glasses? Then you may go." And the girl, who's been giving Jo nervous glances, does just that, placing the glasses on the table, bobbing a frantic nod, and rushing out as fast as her little feet can go. "Mmhmm," is what Jo responds to Farideh's answer, one corner of her mouth lifting. Looking around, "It does look nice," she admits after a moment, before her gaze shifts to her before adding, "So do you." As she moves to sit beside her, her gaze flicks to the girl named Zoas with a brief study as she scrambles out. Setting the bottle down, "A bit different from the lounge," she remarks wryly, leaning back. "Ya have any glasses? The day was good," she answers now, looking her way. "I worked my ass off. Got hit on by a trader durin' sweeps. The usual." "You always say that," Farideh accuses, and brushes off the sleeve of dress self-consciously, totally avoiding looking at Jo in that moment. "A bit-- only that no one can eavesdrop here, unless K'del has uncanny hearing. It's always so loud at Snowasis and less at the lounge, but," her hand lifts and gestures to the array of treats, snacks, and candies on the table in plates, tins, and boxes. "No one can steal any of this either." She's pleased by her own reasoning, smiling unabashedly; it turns into a giggle, before she bites down on her lip. "Sorry. That's horrible. Where?" As she asks, she picks up one of the glasses her assistant helpfully retrieved, and sets it down in front of Jo, and does the same for the second. "Cuz it's always true," Jo playfully returns, some seriousness leaking through in that tone. On the location, "Better," she agrees, grinning. "Easier. Ya wanted those rum-soaked cakes. Yer sweet tooth. Did'ja get any? 'Sides," she adds, nodding towards the ledge entrance, "Talkin' 'bout ourselves ain' meant for all ears," alluding to their last discussion. As to where, she goes to uncork the bottle as she answers Farideh with, "It's not horrible. It was outside Nabol. How was yer day, Kitten?" Less graciously than others might, Farideh finally accepts that compliment with a secretive smile, sitting forward to reach for the fabric-lined box that those rum-soaked cakes are sitting in. She sets it down in front of Jo and waves her hand to waft the saccharine scent towards them. "I did, and I may have already snuck a piece. They're divine, as usual," she sighs, drawing back with a delighted sigh. "No, it's not quite," and less enthralled, with a half-groan, "Nabol. It's always Nabol." Her eyes follow the bottle, entranced. "It's was normal. Nice and normal. The Weyr hasn't fallen on our heads yet, so that's a good sign, right?" As she pours, "Not surprised," Jo answers on the goldrider sneaking some sweet cakes. Passing a filled glass towards Farideh, "Where do ya get'em, anyway?" She grins on the other's reaction regarding Nabol before she adds, "'Least he wasn' from Nabol. He was from somewhere in Telgar. He was dashin'. I think ya would have liked him." Beat. Her own glass filled now, "Yer making' a good actin' Weyrwoman," she notes on the last, amused. "I didn' think ya could work with K'del as long as ya have without a fist thrown." Farideh accepts the glass eagerly, taking a testing sip of the wine, bolstered by another delighted sigh, before she carries on with conversation about cake. "Nerat Hold, of course. An assistant to one of Lord Piershen's bakers. I hope he doesn't get it in his head to lock up the recipe anytime soon, and they are a little more expensive, but--" She thinks they're worth the labor, apparently. "Why would I have liked him?" she asks, one of those cakes half-raised to her mouth, eyes wide. "Who? Me?" And now, she stuffs that cake in, which gives her time to formula a response. "I don't want to cause any undue trouble, not when Irianke is indisposed with familial matters. I don't always agree with K'del, but he's-- alright." It's as close to a compliment as she's going to give. "Not surprised ya even found out 'bout such a decadent...." Jo pauses to pick one up to examine it before taking a bite. On the price, "I'll ya the next batch," she decides to say. "I'm good for it. It can't be that expensive." As for the trader, "Ya'd like'em cuz he's dashin'. He's smoother than I am, anyway. A 'lil uncouth like yer Drex there. So ya like K'del now?" This seems to be news to Jo, and she's looking at Farideh as if it is indeed news. "I used to get them at the gathers at Nerat, or my father or my uncle when they visited with Lord Piershen. It was my favorite thing to get." Farideh ruminates on that for a minute, and eventually slants Jo a narrow-eyed look. "Who said I like dashing? He sounds like a milksop," she mutters, and drinks to that description, though her gaze has already skipped off to the other offerings on the table. "Like K'del? I wouldn't go that far. I said he's alright. He's alright. I don't want to make Irianke regret having me act in her place, nor do I want to do anything that could expedite a transfer when she gets back. Do you?" Like K'del, presumably. Watching her as she lounges back in the couch, Jo notes idly as Farideh explains about the rum cakes, "Ya don' mention 'bout yet family much. Heard ya were from Igen like Irianke is." She grins all the more in light of dashing traders before she asks, "Oh, so ya prefer'em roughnecked, do ya? Soft'n gentle thing like you?" Playful and teasing, she takes another bite before chasing it down with a drink from her glass. "It's smart, playing K'del with kindness, 'cause, no...I don' want ya goin' anywhere, darlin'." The soberness of the last shows in her study of the goldrider. "No?" Farideh plucks one of the berries of the arrangement on her right, considering it at length with a thoughtful air. "I am, from Igen. My uncle is the holder of Big Bay. We're Blooded. It's no big deal," she's quick to say, waving dismissively with her free hand. "It's just not something I go around bragging about, because here it doesn't really matter. Here everyone makes their own way." She scrunches up her nose, before popping the berry in her mouth. "Am I supposed to like them soft and gentle, like me?" she asks, slanting Jo another look. "I don't know if he believes it entirely, but we manage well enough. You've known him longer than me. You have to have an opinion of the man." "No, is doesn' matter," Jo agrees eagerly, "but where we come from does make up who we still are. Just 'cause I ain' a guard somewhere don' mean it's not in me with how I grew up." She snickers on Farideh's expression on soft and gentle before she's slow to shake her head and answers her with, "Some holdgirls do," is all she says on that. "As for K'del," she segues with a look, taking up her glass, "while I've known him for a long time, we haven' exactly talked much. Considerin' how we started in all....well, my opinion of him tends to err over to where those like Taikrin stand. It ain' nothin' personal. I just think it's been long overdue for a change in leadership. My opinion isn' very popular here, though." "I suppose," Farideh ascents, "you're right. It does, but I assume you didn't think I a farmer's daughter from some barren cothold on the southern continent either." Her lips twitch as she holds back her amusement, cradling her glass against her cheek as she contemplates Jo. "A change in leadership? You don't want Irianke as Weyrwoman either?" That makes her frown, but only briefly, for she's tipping her head back and forth as she considers: "K'del has been Weyrleader for a long time. There are those who would say all that time means more experience, which is better. What would you say to that?" "I assumed ya were from some hold'n had been taken care of far better'n I was," Jo counters, watching Farideh idly. "I don' see scars on yer hands'n I don' think there's been any on yer heart. The kindness in ya to someone like me speaks of that." The challenging look she gives now is for the goldrider to refute it. On leadership, she shakes her head before answering, "We've not kept a Weyrwoman long enough. I can't judge Irianke. Weyrleader though, K'del's lost many weyrwomen while in charge. Some would say that's a fluke, but others...Time does mean experience, but..." the bluerider considers her words before she continues, "...I don' think one should be runnin' things for as long as he has. I get that the dragons are the one to choose. I just think new blood breeds new ideas, ya know? If the Weyr is to truly prosper." "You can tell all of that just because I'm nice to you?" Farideh starts to laugh and almost immediately stops, schooling her features appropriately solemn. "I've been told plenty of times that I'm a brat and I'm immature, and-- well, K'del has called me plenty, himself. I think those people would argue with you about that," she says, but still seems pleased by the bluerider's assessment. "K'del-- you're right, he's been around through too many deaths, but I suppose he just has terrible luck. Harpers always tell stories of the weyrleaders who kept their title as long or longer. Places like Benden, Fort-- who would you see as weyrleader, then? Certainly not someone young and inexperienced, completely. A median?" "Well ya are a brat," Jo remarks at that laughter. "That don' mean ya ain' nice, Kitten. Yer were one of the few that went outta their way to take care of me after R'hin died. Someone rotten wouldn've bothered." As for choice of Weyrleader, the wingsecond doesn't answer on that right away. She considers the question as she lingers on her drink, then, "Maybe someone that could get experience through bein' his Weyrsecond," she says slowly with a nod. "There hasn' been a Weyrsecond in several turns. The fact that there hasn' been screams of arrogance to me. I dunno if the next one is even in this Weyr right now," she muses, "but, who knows. Someone could step up. Old or young. Someone with aims to protect this Weyr'n make it great." Another scrunch-nosed face is made in Jo's general direction. "I don't think that makes me nice. Plenty of mean people still have friends. You're just the sad sot that's friend with the immature brat of High Reaches," Farideh returns, not quite as serious. It's all the rest that's sobering, and she sits in silence for a while, turning her wine glass as she mulls it over. "I wonder why he doesn't name a weyrsecond, after all. It's been as long as I've been at the Weyr, which is almost five turns now. That is a long time to go without a weyrsecond." "Plenty of sluts have friends, too," Jo is easy to counter. "That still doesn' mean shit. I've seen yer heart. Ya can't fool me, Farideh." It's not often that the wingsecond uses her real name. "'Sides, aren' we 'spose to be gettin' to know each other?" The smirk falls on talk of leadership, the woman shaking her head to it. "I dunno," she admits on why there isn't a Weyrsecond in place, "but I'll tell ya this. It's far more important to have one than to be talkin' 'bout gettin' rid of one of our goldriders." One eyebrow lifts at the bluerider's words, and her answer is simple: "Fine." It's hazy agreement for now, in so much that she chooses not to argue the point further and let Jo's assertion stand. "We are. So, tell me about you. About the girl before the dragon." She's watching the other woman inquisitively, awaiting the story that they've orchestrated this whole get together for. "Irianke and K'del are worried about candidate numbers, especially with the plague and how fantastic our relations with the Holds have been of late. More golds means more clutches, more clutches means more candidates-- and how we're supposed to feed them all, is anyone's guess." "Sounds like a long term issue, if that," Jo remarks on candidate numbers, making a face. "But then, I ain' runnin' this place for it to be my concern. I guess I just don' see things their way, darlin'. I imagine ya have yer own opinion on the matter, too." But she returns back to the main task at hand, draining her glass in favor of refilling it and offering a refill Farideh's way as she says, "The girl before the dragon was named Jolie of Keogh Hold with only a shit father'n arrogant brothers to share her blood." Leaning back, "Guardstock, through'n through, only, my father didn' believe in lady guards. He believed girls were meant to carry babies'n raise families. Even had someone set up to take me off his hands once he felt I came of age for it." "It is, and it's why they're so adamant about-- you know, women making the right choices about pregnancies. Looking to the future, in fifteen turns, the tides could have turned and we could be looking at large numbers instead of small." Farideh sits back, twisting enough to rest her elbow on the back of the couch. "Really? No lady guards," she murmurs, lips pursing. "How did you get out? Obviously you're not married now-- or, we should really be having a chat." "But they really can't dictate the lives of folks 'round here," Jo says with a slight frown. She lets the frown linger a bit longer before answers Farideh's question on lady guards. "I reckon it had somethin' to do with him losin' my mother," she says a touch dry. "He never doted on me'n, I got the distinct feelin' that he was blamin' me for her leavin'. I dunno. Either way, bein' a guard was what I wanted'n since it was, it made sense for him to deny me that." Getting out draws a study on the goldrider in the pause before she responds with, "I got out 'cause of Deetan. He was a trader just passin' through Keogh, or so he said. I was smitten'n he was one fuckin' charmin' bastard. Opened my eyes to the rest of the world. When he offered me to come with him, I knew that if I stayed I'd either end up married or my father would grant for me to be a guard, only, to be a guard in some backwater shithold. Way I saw it, my future prospects weren' lookin' too hot. Deetan's looked a lot better, so, I left with him. Even in hindsight, knowin' all I know 'bout him now, I'd still go." "No, but it's a bit second nature to just-- zip between and take care of what may or may not be, after sex. I think they're simply imploring people to think about it. I'd rather see them try than run into the problem of hatchlings going between because we lack candidates," Farideh says, frowning herself; no solution seems good. "Your mother left?" That bit surprises her, but then she's quiet, as she listens, only commenting on Deetan at the end. "Deetan-- a trader? And you went from trader to the Weyr?" Perplexed, her eyebrows knitting together, she stares at Jo, trying to put the pieces together prior to whole thing being unraveled. "Do go on." "More children, ya mean," Jo states, still with a slight frown. "Guess I can see a lot of folks goin' for that." She doesn't seem to be adding herself into that group, though. She inclines her head on her mother leaving, answering back, "Or so Jothan says. I'll never know'n I'll never get a true answer outta him. All I know is, I grew up without her'n surrounded by men. Keogh's a tough place to live, darlin'. It ain' so kind to women much like other holds." On Deetan though, "Took many turns 'till I came here," she admits with a drink. "I left with Deetan'n turns out, he wasn' so much a trader as a thief. He had some friends with him that went around, causin' trouble for the guards. At my age, they led a life far more interestin' than the one I would've gotten if I stayed home, so I stuck with'em. Let'em teach me everythin' I know, though, I still think I wasn' a bad kid. I knew what they were doin' was wrong, but..." Lips pressed together and she shrugs.
"Figured if she'd want us, she'd be found," is Jo's cavalier answer on her missing mother. "She'd make it easy. Shit, she'd have marched into Keogh for us. She didn'. She left me with him." It seems simple enough to her. On Deetan, there's something akin to a sheepish grin before she answers, "In all fairness, the boy could've claimed he sold weyrwomen virginities for a livin' and I'd still would've gone with him. I was a different girl back then. Still believed in harper-tale romances'n bein' one day swept off my feet into the sunset. I'm sure he was only in Keogh to nick somethin' off somebody'n I told him so. He didn' deny it. As for convincin' me to theive with him," she goes on to say as she takes a leisurely drink, "it didn' take much. His life was excitin'. He was excitin'. I wanted him'n I wanted to be like him, if I couldn' be a guard. Bein' good hadn' given me much on favors so far back home, so," One shoulder-shrug. "You make a valid point," Farideh says, quietly, rocking her wineglass against her cheek. "It seems such a shame though, that your mother-- disappeared. Hard or not. Rough or not. I can't ever claim to be the best mother, or even knowledgeable, but I do love Ethran and I couldn't ever move somewhere and leave him behind. That seems--" She scrunches up her nose, sighs, and takes a long drink of her wine; and then takes another, to fortify herself, it would seem. Through the rest she's quiet, listening and mulling over the story, until the end. "So, that's it? That's how you became-- you? Following around some thief that caused issues for Keogh's guards?" Nodding once, "I won' pretend to know what my mother was thinkin', or like," Jo admits on Farideh's words, watching her. "Perhaps she had good reason. Perhaps she had no good reason at all." Pause. "The story does not end there," she tells her then, some of her cavalier tones leaking away as she sets the glass down. After a brief moment of silence, "After a time, I was good at what they did," she goes on to say matter-of-factly. "I started seein' makin' a life of it with them all. I had no plans on goin' back home. Well. One heist was all it took. We all coordinated to rob a wagon, only, the man was armed'n good at usin' it. He got me in the leg-" and she pats her covered left thigh, "-'n would've stabbed me dead if not for one of'em gettin' a kill on him. Another guy got injured by him as well'n his wound was fatal." Meeting Farideh's gaze, "Long story short of that piece, Deetan'n them got away'n conveniently left me, their friend'n the dead man right there when the guard showed up. I got fingered since I had the knife in my hand where I was tryin' to save him. The other one died. Guess who got the all-expenses-paid prize trip to the mines?" She makes a joke out of it, but the words fall flat along with the dark look in her eyes. Varying emotions flash across the goldrider's face in the telling of the story: surprise in widened eyes, a hand thrown over her mouth; an angry scowl and furrowed brow; a heavy sigh with eyes briefly closed. "How did you get from the mines to High Reaches?" Farideh rests her chin on her forearm, balanced precariously on the back of the couch, her eyes on the bluerider. Watching Farideh - watching the expressions that cross on her face, "I stuck to the lands after I got outta the mines," Jo is slow to answer, her tone sober. "I didn' end up in the Weyr right away. I think it was a turn or so before I came. Spent the time tryin' to survive on my own. I was...." She stops here, now unable to really look at her and chooses to reclaim her glass and focus on that instead. "Jolie died in that place," she says quietly. "Who came out was....different. Rougher. Colder. Angrier. All I could think 'bout....all I had eyes for was revenge. That really hasn' changed," she adds, stealing a glance Farideh's way. "But, I couldn' stay out in the lands without food'n marks. Did what I could to get by. Eventually, got an opportunity to try livin' at this here Weyr," and she looks about the little weyr in indication before she snorts and shakes her head. "Honestly, I was only expectin' to pass through here. Move on. Find Deetan and.... Find Bar'n Kin and.... But, guess Tacuseth had other plans for me. Before that, the right folks came in'n took care of me the way my own family didn'." It's a story that deserves quiet consideration, and Farideh's intensity on it shows. "You may be rougher and colder and angrier than you were-- but you make it sound like you're bad and you're not. People like-- this Deetan character, or M'kris-- or that guy they always talk about Rone, those were bad guys. I think you just learned to-- protect yourself, better. Not let other people take advantage of you. It's smart, really." She sighs and sits up, to take another swallow of wine. "I'm glad-- that Tacuseth found you, that you stayed. Think of everything since then, and now. None of it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't. We wouldn't be here now, if you hadn't," she points out, mostly unhelpfully. Jo listens, her brows coming together minutely through Farideh's words as she cradles the glass with both hands when hunches forward a bit. Shaking her head once at something said, "Just 'cause I didn' kill that man, that I got framed for it, don' mean I ain' a bad person, Kitten," she tells her quietly. "Some of the gossip is true. I've...done things, darlin'. It wasn' always 'bout survival'n that's shit I've gotta always live with. I ain' gonna pretend that I ain' lookin' for that man. What he did to me....I can't let that go." Pause. "It's all I've ever had." Draining some of her drink, "I can't thank him for me findin' Tacuseth," she says soberly. "I can't thank my father's bein' an ass for this life." Meeting her gaze on that last, she studies her before reaching out to try and brush the side of Farideh's bottom lip with a callused thumb as she says, "But no. Some of it I don' regret. I don' regret it all leadin' me to meetin' you." Farideh opens her mouth to refute those claims, or complain, or-- who knows, because she promptly shuts it with a definitive snap. She looks at a loss of what to say, though she's not yet looked away from the bluerider. "I'd say I wished those things hadn't happened to you, and if they-- ok, I wish they hadn't, but I feel like they've made you you. Who would you be if you weren't you?" It's a conundrum, one which she's not adept enough to figure out, so she frowns instead, even when Jo touches her face. "You're not a bane, Jo." Fingers returning to cradle her glass as she sits back, "There's those that think otherwise," is what Jo says on her being who she is with a small self-deprecating grin. "I notice more folks have acceptin' sort of minds inside a Weyr than outside." With a roll of shoulders, "But that's my story. The best of it, anyway. Not as excitin' as, say, talkin' with tunnelsnakes or bitin' canines on their backs. As to who I would've been....well, someone that wasn' a 'rider. Someone that either was a guard or someone that didn' know the insides of the mines, or, someone likely dead." Beat. "Who would'ja have been if not the you here?" "And there's those that think I'm terrible, too. I think there always will be, but it's how the people you care about think about you that matters." Farideh nods once, after, to convince herself, too. She finishes what's left in her glass before she acknowledges, "Someone's wife, someone's mother-- no, I'm someone's mother already. Someone's wife, for sure, and I would have at least--" She frowns and starts ticking off on her fingers, "Two or three children by now. I might even be a Lady Holder, somewhere. Miserable and stuffed into a frilly gown to please my husband, who wouldn't like me to talk back or have opinions or--" Giving her head a shake, she says, "No. I was meant to be here, in the end. I didn't know it. Roszadyth did." "That's true," Jo agrees on how the people they care about thinking of them. "Drex adores ya, I reckon, sacrificin' all he does for ya. I can see ya bein' someone's wife. Lady Holder, but, I doubt ya would be happy. I see ya as ya are here'n, ya meant to be here. With her," with a nod towards where Roszadyth has settled. "They our dragons knows us better than we know ourselves." "No, I wouldn't have been happy. That's why I left-- to make my own decisions and my own life. I left when my sister had just gotten married and my mother was setting her sights on my prospects." Farideh makes a face at that and then shifts again, to take up the bottle of wine and pour into her own glass before offering to pour into Jo's. "We can't celebrate the past, but we can certainly toast to our dragons, our futures. May they be both bright and uneventful." "To makin' yer own prospects then," Jo offers her glass over for the toast and the refill, seeming content enough to finish off the bottle - and some of the sweets - in talk of far less personal subjects. Even likely, gossip. |
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