Logs:Hungover Morning
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| RL Date: 28 June, 2016 |
| Who: Edyis, Silva |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The morning after always comes after the night. |
| Where: Edyis' Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 2, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
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| It had been a long night, and Ed woke on the couch. The dragons have already been tended to and the smell of savory spices hangs in the air suggesting that a breakfast suited for hangovers is cooking on the hearth. Seated at the table is Edyis, already dressed, and reading over a stack of reports. There is a basin of hot water ready for washing and clean clothes sitting on the counter nearby. Waking up, not quite sure where she's at, is something Silva's come to get use to over the last few sevens. It's weird, but at least the hangover is normal and what she expects? Silva reaches out for Zaisyreth - no matter how much she lost herself he always knew where she was. But he's totally not making sense right now. She's in someone's weyr? She'll just lay here for a few more seconds and try to puzzle out what that means. Zaisyreth isn't backwards in providing the 411, and finally Silva opens bleary eyes and pushes herself up onto one arm. Vision matches what Zaisy is saying but... lots of ??What?? Still going on. Okay. Focus on the important thing. WHAT IS SHE WEARING? "There are clean clothes on the counter and breakfast too. You best eat something, I imagine your skull feels like there's a dragon standing on it considering how much you drank last night." Edyis calls from over her reports without looking up. A green firelizard coiled about the back of her neck lazily flicking her tail. Silva rubs at her eyes, trying to make it less blurry, and then slowly slides herself out of bed. She's delicate in every single way, but those clothes... wow. She is just going to get them OFF and then cast around. "My dress?" Silva, focusing on the important things. Until she remembers the cascade of bruises on her body and she reaches out to grab up a quilt. She hasn't quite connected the fact that obviously Edyis has seen them already probably, considering this is NOT her dress from the night before. "Washbin is over there, so is the ointment for the bruises. The dress, well you'd best not wear it again before it gets a good wash. I've got some extra work clothes over there as well, just return them when you get a chance. My sister may be a weaver but she still charges me for things." Edyis notes lifting her mug of Klah, and flipping the next page in the report. "I took care of oiling Zaisyreth too, but the poor guy didn't sleep very well." Silva rubs at her temple, as if the motion will somehow make everything sudden snap into clarity. It doesn't, and Silva doesn't miss Edyis' comment about bruises. Red flashes onto her cheeks and Silva is firmly going to look down at the floor. Slowly she moves away and towards the pile of clothes. Just clothes. There's an attempt to get more out of Zaisyreth beyond 'where is she' like 'what happened last night' and... nothing. Zaisyreth is not giving that up. Silva's going to have to ask the person~ "Thank you," a beat, "For Zaisyreth." She beings to pull on the clothing stiffly, covering up those bruises again. A hand touches her face and she winces at the feel of makeup left on overnight. Something to distract her, "Your... pillow, sorry." It's probably a mess right now. Clothing on Silva stands there, looking super lost. Which question should she start with? "Don't worry about it. Akluseth insists on his guests getting tended to." A small smirk curling on her lips with the admission. « Scratches are the BEST » As for the pillow, the scribe waves it off. "It will wash out, I think we were both too exhausted to care by the end of the night." Nevermind how that sounds. It seems Ed isn't completely devoid of mischief, as she seems to offer nothing about the night's events of her own accord. There is food, Silva heard that, but there is a tight knot that is a solid NO on the whole eating thing. Drawing her tongue over teeth fuzzy as butt she makes a face then finally turns to Edyis, "This... wasn't where I expected to be?" Not quite a demand for answers but totally a question. Ed's attention lifts from the report to study the younger rider, "And where did you expect to wake up?" Letting the bluerider stew for a bit as she shuffles the papers into order, propping an elbow on the table and her chin in hand. Silva reaches up to her hair, and if it is possible, her lips twist even further. She settles on the edge of the bed and starts to undo some of the braids from the night before. It is a tangled mess, but she has... time? Carefully Silva will try to dodge the question, "Not your weyr.. or any weyr?" Zaisy, be helpful please, no? :( "You... followed me?" Seriously trying to remember. "Sorry to disappoint then." Edyis notes, "We went dancing, you'd had a little too much to drink and rather than have you try to between in that state, Akluseth and I brought you two home." It is the truth, just with a few chunks omitted. "You really do need to go see the healers today. Before your choices end in keening." "I never between drunk." Firmly Silva says this, and it has more of a time of truth then most. A hand comes up and she covers her bruised arm. "No one is going to die," She snaps, eyes of the floor. "I just fell. A few times. It's just fun. " "I think we both know that that kind of damage isn't just from a fall." Edyis notes, getting up and moving over to the counter to refill her mug. She braces against the counter eyes still focused on the younger bluerider. "I've hit rock bottom enough times myself to know what it looks like in someone else Silva." Her voice soft with the confession. Silva's not ready to admit anything yet - well, not ready to admit anything sober. Her gaze pointedly avoids the brownrider and she bites her lip on what are probably snarky words. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not doing anything wrong." She kinda believes it. Kinda. Edyis is silent, studying the bluerider. Whatever Silva's words indicate the sternness and concern remaining in the brownrider's expression leaves no doubts as to whether or not the scribe believes her. "It's my choice. No one's going to die. I am not doing anything wrong." The scribe echoes, "If you really believed that deep down why hide the bruises? Why is your lifemate always on edge out of concern for you? Why go to places where all people see is an easy lay?" It isn't meant to be as harsh as it sounds. "They're just //bruises//." Silva's grasp on her tongue snaps and she has to pull it back in with visible effort. Eyes closed, deep breath, damn the stupid headache which is keeping her from doing them better. "I hide them so people don't ask me questions and make a big deal out something that isn't." The other two questions don't get answered. Edyis's lips press together, and she exhales slowly. "It isn't just bruises Silva. This isn't about having fun it is about something else, and I think deep down you know that. Whether or not you are willing to admit it to yourself or anyone else." "What is it you expect me to say?" Silva slumps against the wall, letting it take on some of her weight. Except she hits a bruise and there's a wince that crosses her face. "What did I say last night to make you dig on this?" Suspicious Silva Tone there. Edyis sets the mug down and picks up the salve crossing across the room. Gingerly she indicates for the bruised arm to be held out, and if Silva allows, she starts working the salve into the bruises gingerly. "This is stuff I got from one of the people who taught me self defense, it speeds the healing considerably." For a while she doesn't answer the question, and it seems as though she doesn't intend to but at last. "You told me that you were less mean when you were hurting. That you thought you were useless because you were pregnant, and that your dragon loves you." She frowns at the last. "You know he feels it too don't you? If I hurt, Akluseth feels it unless I block the pain from him." Silva stands as her arm gets taken and the salve applied. Her expression shutters, helped by a cloak of hair which falls forward. "I block it from him." It comes quietly. "He's just worried because it is different. He'll forget he's worried if it's just normal." "How can you block it from him when you are so intoxicated you can barely manage walking?" Edyis notes softly, focused on the task at hand. "It isn't normal, and it isn't fair to him, but it is pretty clear you seem content to self destruct at this point." It's a good slave and the effects are almost immediate. "What did you want, before you impressed I mean. What was your dream?" Silva opens her mouth to try to refute what Edyis notes, but nothing comes out. Can she be sure she is blocking him out? But then- if she's too drunk to block him, is she too drunk to feel it? These are heavy thoughts. Silence as she works her way through them before she settles on the most disturbing one. What if she can't feel it... but Zaisy can? "I need to stop drinking so hard...." Comes out on the exhale of a breath. It could totally be taken as progress? A shake of her head, just a twitch. "I didn't have any." Dreams that is. "Like, not that lasted very long. I liked clothes but never had the patience to be a weaver or whatever." It's a start at least. Edyis nod along, working on the rest of those bruises. "My sister is a Journeyman weaver, all the quilts you see in here are her work." There is a tilt of her head at the thought, "If it's something you still love, you could see about maybe someone teaching you. I think Telavi sews, and there's a whole wing of craft riders now. Might give you that additional sense of purpose, and something constructive to put your energy into, but it's just a thought." Silva spares a glance at the quilts. "Pretty." It sounds more or less sincere. Closing her hand she pulls her arm away unless Edyis pulls it back. She'll keep the jagged almost-a-scar now on the palm to herself. "Why do you care?" Silva's asked this already today, but it bears repeating without the tang of confusion or anger which it had before. Edyis doesn't resist when she pulls the arm away. Lidding the jar, and setting it back on the counter. "Why shouldn't I care?" Studying the bluerider with a tilt of her head. "You can't answer with a question. I'm no one to you. There's no reason. It doesn't make sense." A brisk rub of her hand along the now salved-up arm, it's got that slightly-wet chilled feeling until the salve works its way under the skin. "Can't I?" A smirk curling the edges of her mouth, as she sets about to tidying up the place. "I guess you could call it a fatal flaw of sorts. I am incapable of standing idly by, not when there is something I can do about a situation." Silva rubs at her eyes again, then nods slowly, like she understands. "You think you can do something." It comes as a mutter, the words squished together. Pulling herself upright, "Thank you for the clothing. I'll get out of your hair." And she'll start to make tracks towards the doorway as brisk as hungover can manage. (It's not very brisk.) Edyis shrugs, "I don't know if I can help or not. But I've been there before, more or less. There were people who helped me through it." She watches the hungover trek to the door. "If you want someone to talk to, or just a place to crash, you both are welcome back here any time." The Brownrider calls after her. Silva's strained her ability to be polite to pretty much a breaking point. So it's one last "Thanks." before she's out, acknowledging the offer, but not committing to it. Zaisyreth adds his own quiet thank-you to the brown, careful of his oft volatile rider until her head stops pounding. |
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