Logs:Crazy Ex Girlfriend
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| RL Date: 29 September, 2014 |
| Who: Farideh, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Farideh is waiting for someone.. it isn't H'vier. |
| Where: Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Snowy. |
| Mentions: Tayte/Mentions, C'far/Mentions |
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| Western Bowl, High Reaches Weyr The bowl's vast dirt floor extends in a rough oval from west to east, only sparse clumps of grass surviving between the crisscrossed pathways of daily traffic. To the northwest stand massive gates to the world beyond, allowing people, livestock, and tithes to pass beneath some of the seven jagged spires that stand sentinel over that area of the bowl. In late afternoons, their spindly, fingerlike shadows stretch over that end of the bowl all the way to the living cavern's hulking brass doors in the far north. Eastward, the bowl sprawls on toward the lake, sloping slightly downward to allow runoff from rain and snowmelt, but to the south it's caged by more cliffs of dark, rough-cut granite. Rocks poke up from the ground here, a few large boulders and many smaller outcroppings worn smooth in spots by time and use. A few ground weyr entrances dot the wall, the most frequented ledge set up like a patio while the largest ledge services the Weyrleaders' complex, directly beside the huge entrance to the hatching sands. A more human-sized entrance, left of that, leads to the galleries.
Early is not H'vier's favorite time of day. He much prefers night, when it's more acceptable to be drinking and looking for some sort of companionship. Early just means work. Or, like now, a trek to the caverns so he can get himself klah after very early, very boring, very cold sweeps. He might be aware of Farideh's presence insomuch as she's another person, but in the snow, in her get up, and in his focus for something hot to drink, the large bronzerider doesn't recognize her as the specific person that she is. Granted, he might ignore her even if he did. Each face that passes the laundress on their walk to the caverns gets a focused scrutiny. It is hard to recognize who is whom, trying to see beyond the layers of wool, leather, and other outerwear. Today, it's not even H'vier that Farideh's looking for, by her crestfallen expression, but she'll take what she can get. She says a muffled - by the collar over her mouth - "H'vier," and tries to circumvent into his pathway; if he doesn't see her in enough time, they may collide, but she's hoping for those rider reflexes to kick in and save her as she plants her feet solidly on the ground, and in his path. It takes him a second to recognize who's blocking his path, but he doesn't say her name until he's come up just short of running into her. "Farideh. What do you want?" he asks cooly. Which is probably better than angrily. Maybe he's not interested in murdering her for telling Tayte about them anymore. His gaze lifts to look past her, then he starts moving to step around and continue toward the caverns. She can follow if she wants to keep talking to him. "I was looking for someone. Can you--" Disquiet piques her brow as he starts to walk away without waiting. "Where are you going? How can you ask me a question and go?" Farideh reaches out both hands to make a grab at his sleeve, angling to wrap them around his arm and keep him from progressing any further unless he means to take her along. She's frowning at him, but doesn't look nearly as amused or pissed off as she did at their last meeting. That, of course, doesn't mean anything has changed. Another rider shuffles past them in pursuit of the lower caverns. "I need klah." Need, woman. "Can't you walk and talk at the same time?" H'vier has paused again, though, and he doesn't even pull his arm away from her grasp. He just looks at her, expectant now for her to ask whatever she was going to ask. "Klah.." The words are echoed blankly, at first, and then Farideh starts patting herself down, from the waist up until she hits on something. She undoes a button just enough to slide her hand in and procure.. a flask; it too is probably borrowed, like the over-sized (man-sized) coat she wears. Holding it out, she tries to snuggle her chin back in the collar and manages enough so only her nose on up is visible over the edge. "I have to wait for C'far, and," she pauses and looks out at the overcast, snow-covered bowl, "it would be nice if I had company. Besides, we have a few things to talk about." That sounds hopeful - or, not. Hazel eyes come back on rest on the bronzerider at the end. The usual contents of a flask are apt to make H'vier more tired, not less. But he doesn't seem to care about that, because he reaches out to accept it without much consideration to the contrary. There's even a grunt that's probably meant to be gratitude. Once he's taken a drink (and it hasn't killed him), the bronzerider says, "We don't have anything to talk about." Hands find their way into the equally as large pockets of the coat. "We have plenty to talk about. Like how your ex-girlfriend, girlfriend, wife, weyrmate, whatever she is, is crazy, and," Farideh gives H'vier a cool, pointed look, "pregnant. It would be preferable if you didn't get me involved in that mess. She already knows who I am. She probably wants to beat me up. Can't you.. I don't know.. handle her?" Really, she's so sweet, isn't she. At one point, H'vier might have gotten rightfully upset about the way Farideh refers to the woman he loves. But right now? He doesn't rise to the bait, whether it was intended as such or not. "No," is his simple response. "We aren't together. And I'm not the one who told her about you." So she can deal with that one on her own. "Lovely." One toe digs into the snow as Farideh falls silent, a silence that lasts all of a few seconds and feeds her aggravation. "Someone told her." She shoots him a narrow-eyed stare, snow crunching under her boots as she takes a couple steps closer to H'vier. "I really would dislike going back to my bed to find the sheets slashed or who knows, a tunnelsnake in my pillowcase. You can't do anything, since you created this mess?" Lots of emphasis on lots of words, marked by the rise and fall of thin, brown eyebrows - this is serious. "Don't act like you're some innocent bystander, girl. It's not like a dragged you up to my weyr with you kicking and screaming. And unless you're asking to stay in my weyr, I really don't know what you expect me to do about it." And H'vier doesn't really seem to care if her sheets end up slashed with tunnelsnakes shoved into the pillows. Long suffering sigh - "Did I say that? I didn't. We had sex. Once. Does that mean I should get subjected to your crazy ex's tantrum?" She's openly glaring now, agitated in comparison to his less-affected demeanor. "You need to take care of it. At least have the balls to do that. You're not much good at anything else." And yes, that last part was meant as an insult. "Relax. She doesn't give a shit about you. She's just... threatened by your youth, probably." Tayte would probably murder H'vier if she knew he'd said that. Fortunately she's not here! Farideh's insults don't seem to bother him anymore than anything else they've spoken about for the last few minutes. He's not insecure enough for that. "Are we done?" "I'm holding you accountable if anything happens," is the last shot on that subject, just before another sigh, this one more caustic. "Go, then, if it bothers you so much. You could pretend to like my company, at least." Less annoyed now, more petulant - Farideh turns to face outwards, looking towards the dragons and their riders running exercises across the bowl; they're shadows, really, with the occasional glimpse of some soft color. If he's going, he's going, but she's got too much pride to ask for that flask back, even if it isn't hers. H'vier starts to turn, but he pauses. "For what it's worth, I like your company just fine. When you're riding my lap." At least this earns a low chuckle out of him and he presses the flask against her arm, waiting for her to take it before he starts to turn away again, to finally go get his damned klah. Farideh's gaze flicks back to H'vier, eyes warming with laughter that goes unheard. "That's not exactly what I meant." Her second response is to roll her eyes, accept the flask and shove it back into the inner pocket of the coat. She doesn't waste her breath on saying goodbye - its cold out and she might need it to yell at someone else. So, she goes back to people-watching, with her hands curled up in the coat's pockets. |
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