Logs:Find Your Joy
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2015 |
| Who: Farideh, Irianke |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In the aftermath of each flight, High Reaches' weyrwomen cope. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, A'rist/Mentions |
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| By the 18th, Mielline is the acting Weyrleader and Irianke is officially Weyrwoman. This has changed the daily lower caverns briefings minutely; the elder goldrider taking reign more firmly, as if she hadn't before, and some of the assistant headwomen, particularly those who had been passed up for the top spot, giving less grudging respect. Official is official, no matter how it happened. This particular meeting is ending, with notes for Farideh to go over the tithing reports as the Weyr prepares for the influx and a few assistants detailed to reread crafter contracts, and though everyone is dismissed, Irianke reaches out a hand to stay the other goldrider by placing her hand on Farideh's lightly. Good though the news was of the solidified leadership -- and no one more than Farideh was glad of her own step down -- it had been a wearying few days since the incident at Greenfields. It's showed in the fatigued expression of the junior weyrwoman, and the calm, less vibrant tones she's used; despite the same level of attentiveness she's had, or more so, to her duties. She seems surprised by Irianke's gesture, but politely nods her head, waiting, quietly, for the room to empty with a lightly expectant expression settled on the new Weyrwoman. "I haven't had a moment to talk to you since," Irianke's pause hesitates over her next words and a shadow flashes past her blue eyes. "You were incredible, from everything I heard, and saw for myself. Farideh, I'm proud of you and wanted to thank you personally for how you aided K'del before and after the attempt on his life." Fingers lace and drop to her lap, but Farideh's attention is for the other goldrider alone, even with head tipped slightly to the side to regard the older woman with vague curiosity. "Oh," is soft, and she shifts uncomfortably in her chair, glancing down at her hands and then back up at Irianke. "It was-- it's what you would have done. Expected me to do." Her smile is contrite, before, "I didn't help K'del at all, but the healers at Greenfields were fast and careful." Irianke's hand presses down, firm and gentle, into Farideh's. "You kept calm," relatively, "You were there for him, in spite of your personal feelings, and you kept your head. I don't know if I could've managed quite as well in your shoes and I am so proud of you," the goldrider looks past the other woman's shoulder and expels a sigh. "Did you get a chance to speak with Holder Linuore as to what she suspects might be going on in her hold?" "I--" Farideh doesn't appear to want to accept Irianke's praise, but she eventually struggles through a nod of acquiescence. "I don't hate K'del and no one should have to-- not like that-- thank you," sounds bitter on her tongue, but then she's sighing, after Irianke's. "I had a chance to talk to all of them, and I didn't get much out of it. They want to know what happened-- they're upset-- but Lady Ienavi, she just--" Pained, her expression. "They didn't make any of it easy." No. They certainly don't make any of it easy and Irianke's expression, subsequent words, and the continuation of their chat expresses both sympathy and suggestions. As for the subject of K'del? Any time his name is brought up, it's clear Irianke is bothered, saddened even by the situation. Eventually, the two of them will go their separate ways, each with their own people to oversee and manage and friends and lives. In the two days after Roszadyth's maiden flight, a few more things have found clarity and others, not. It's with a vigor that Farideh has set herself once more to her duties, pushing herself past her normal hours and coming home later than one might expect. She's here now, between her latest round in the lower caverns and dinner, listlessly pacing her Weyr while she reads off a single hide; her expression is one of concentration, and she chews distractedly on a fingertip as she walks. Dressed, quite simply, and looking like she's only recently freshened up, while the rest of her weyr is as it always is: tidy, neat, with oh-so-Farideh touches all around. "Farideh?" Irianke's distinctive voice echoes up from the Weyrleader's common area, and shortly the goldrider stands in the entrance, a shadow awaiting permission to come in fully. "Yes?" starts, high and expectant, before Farideh even stops pacing the length of her weyr, but she hurries to set the hide aside and walk towards the entryway, to meet Irianke as she arrives. Irianke's hand lifts immediately, waving off the formality. "No, no. Don't get up on my account. I just..." The goldrider slips in and sinks against the wall, arms folded against her chest and her legs slanted to give her that nice lean. "I needed to check in on you after that. Unexpected, Roszadyth going up so soon, and I don't know if anyone prepared you for it happening and... with who won." Irianke seems to jump from thought to thought, topic to topic without her usual fluidness, a nervous energy about her body, in spite of that relaxed seeming lean. "Forget everything I said," she suddenly says, "How are you, darling?" The abruptness of Irianke's request, words, has Farideh stopping completely where she stands. She's staring at the other goldrider with wide eyes and one hand lifted in an aborted gesture, but the latter slowly sinks back to her side and her face takes one an anxious expression. "It's-- everything's fine, she--" She can't hold Irianke's gaze, and glances away. "I'm fine. It's fine. We'll have two healthy clutches, now. Nothing to worry about," breezy, calm -- too calm? -- as she eyes flick back to the Weyrwoman. "No, stop it. Shut up." The last a little more forceful than even Irianke seems to mean to make it, and instantly regret surfaces. "I'm sorry. Not shut up. I just meant, don't pretend with me, please. My first flight," the once trader's teeth come down, ruminating against her lower lip and a visible swallow pushes a lump down her throat. "Farideh. It can be a traumatic experience if it's unexpected, irrelevant to how experienced you are. The loss of control... not being yourself in your own skin and yet being entirely yourself in a way far different than you imagined and coupling with someone uncaring of who they are." Sympathy is deep in Irianke's low voice. "Farideh," she says the name kindly, cradling it on her tongue with all the gentleness a mother might, "It's ok not to be fine." Multiple times, Farideh's mouth works, without sound. Her sharp intake of breath is the only noise, and she licks her lips, then presses knuckles to her lips, staring intently at Irianke. It's a war raging across her features, a hesitancy to unload her problems or keep them all bottled up. "I--" Easier, to close her eyes, and reach a hand for the couch. "I wasn't expecting it. Not like that. Not like-- I wanted-- I did-- it was insatiable. I wanted everyone," she says, quietly, opening her eyes to look at Irianke. "And I did-- with people, other than him, before, and then-- he was--" Her fingers on the back of the couch tighten. "Rough." A little steadier, her chin lifts. "Everything's a mess." Honesty. Oh, Farideh. It's written in Irianke's very eyes, that sympathy, that motherly pain that wants to take away the younger woman's. The best Irianke can do is step forward from that lean towards the other woman, to take her in her arms and cradle her. "Should I ask K'del to speak with him?" Understanding, instinctively, who that him is, the one that matters the most at this point and not the other he. Nothing happens until everything happens, and sniffles turn into actual tears. It's not in Farideh's nature to cling, though she accepts that embrace at the same time that she presses a hand to her mouth, covering the sounds as best she can. Yes, everything is a mess. "No," is miserable, clogged. "What good will that do? Now? Everything's-- done. I'm trying." Irianke just holds Farideh there, petting and smoothing down her hair, massaging her upper back, and generally just being something good to cling to. Yes, no, maybe, no, maybe, yes. None of it matters to the Weyrwoman right at this moment. "Shhh. Shhh. Oh, sweetheart. Oh, Farideh." The goldrider doesn't make more suggestions on what she can do for the girl and instead just is there for her. Over and over, through just standing there and sniffling, crying, Farideh tries to staunch the flow of emotions, to get control of herself again; it takes time. "I'm trying," she finally says, when she's just breathing harshly, sniffling occasionally. "I'm trying to be-- the junior you want, the one the Weyr needs. Not to let this-- this get in the way. None of it. It's-- I'm sorry." "Oh fuck that. Be who you are. I just need someone to help with my work load. What you do in your time, or personally, or personality. That's you. It's what made Roszadyth pick you and it's what drives you to be the person you are. That girl who ran away from home where you lived a life others dream of and can never aspire to, to be a laundress, all so you could have your own choice and make your own decisions. So fuck. That." Irianke's frankness could not be more clear, especially as she pulls back and holds Farideh by the chin and looks directly into her eyes. "I adore you for who you are and were. I am hardly anyone's idea of a perfect goldrider, loose legs and all." A startled laugh makes it through the sniffling sounds, and Farideh manages to wipe away most of the evidence of her tears before Irianke gets her chin in hand. "Everyone's scared of you. Respect. You were-- are, from Igen, but you're-- they can tell, that you're knowledgeable, even before Niahvth rose." She sucks in a noisy breath, scrunching up her nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry all over you. It's-- everything will be fine, if not now then," she sniffles, again, "soon." "Oh, Farideh." It's never going to get old, Irianke saying this in that motherly, slightly patronizing, still loving way of hers. "I'm nearly twenty turns older than you and been a goldrider for 17 turns of that. I'm knowledgeable because I had to be to survive, and while your growth as a leader and person is of importance to me, it's not at the expense of who you are. Find your joy, Farideh. If you love this boy of yours, you make him understand and if he doesn't, then fuck him. You're beautiful, intelligent, wear your heart on your sleeve and some day, you will be great not because you're trying to squeeze yourself into this box you think I want you in, but because you're you. And don't ever tell me you're fine again when you're not. If A'rist hurt you in any way, I will have words with him." A beat later. "Or have someone have words with him." Since the last time A'rist and Irianke spoke, it did not go so well. It's all a lot, and likely the range of emotions -- from embarrassment, to amusement, and sadness -- aren't unexpected. "I don't know why you think so much of me. Not when I'm," her sighs, "like that. I could barely keep from throwing up when I saw-- that body, at Greenfields, and now, I'm crying over an unfortunate set of events and a flight that ended up not-- like I expected." Though, Farideh's quick to shake her head, alarmed, "No. No. Please, don't. It's-- that's just-- I mean, if it's--" Now, she blushes. "He didn't want me to tell anyone. I think he's-- embarrassed, by it, and-- I am too. I'd rather you-- didn't. I don't think he'd try it again." Dubious, but accepting, that tidbit is filed for later, though for now, Irianke nods. "If that's what you wish." But she has her eyes on him. "And I think this of you because I've seen you when you were younger and seen how you've grown up already. Don't sell yourself short, love. You have twenty more turns to become greater than me. Have you spoken to Drex since the flight?" Delicately, rubbing her nose, "You've always been good at saying the right things." Farideh sighs and shakes her head, not getting teary eyed again, no matter how sad she looks about her answer. "No-- not since then. I'm sure you heard, that he was there. I-- he's still not too versed on how Weyrs work, and dragons, and-- he shouldn't have been there. And now, he's probably--" Another sigh. "Go talk to him, and if that doesn't work, K'del can talk to him for you. He owes you anyway for subjecting you to his near dead body." It's easy to joke about it now, right? Now that K'del is most certainly not going to die, but even Irianke's humored voice is dry. "I don't know if-- that might be kind of daunting, to have the Weyrleader telling you-- trying to inquire into your relationship," Farideh says, in that 'no-please-don't-let-dad-do-that' tone. "And K'del's a little-- he's got a weyrmate, and kids, and--" Her lips compress, her nose screws up, and she shakes her head slowly side to side. "Thanks, though. I'll-- I just have to, talk to him." Understanding, and even finding further amusement in this, Irianke finally, finally steps back away from Farideh, seeming to think that the younger goldrider is better if not actually fine now. "Do that. On another note, seeing as both of our dragons have risen and will clutch shortly, I am thinking of working with Mielline to move a few enterprising riders into Aurora for the interim to send forth as envoys of the weyrwomen to the holds and crafts as needed. If you could think on this and draw up a list of people you think might work and the pros and cons of doing this, I'd appreciate that." Work-a-holic? No way. The shift, from emotional to work, actually makes Farideh looks momentarily relieved. "I can do that," with a succinct nod. "I have a few in mind, already, but I'll have to take stock to be sure they're-- we can't just send anyone, especially not now, not after--" Greenfields. She wipes at her cheeks again, dashing away any leftover wetness. "I'll have that for you, soon." This too, Irianke understands, and perhaps the shift was deliberate. "I'd appreciate that. And thank you, Farideh, for all your hard work and efforts. Thank you for trusting me as your Weyrwoman." The goldrider looks about to leave, turning to the exit and then pauses just before she might duck out, "Please don't ever feel like you have to put on a facade with me." Farideh's answer of a nod is almost reverent, and certainly is heartfelt, for all that Irianke is always there to listen when she has a need, or simply to cry at; by now it's tradition. "Thank you--" is only slightly croaked, and once she gets ahold of herself, she'll give one of those salutes Quinlys taught all the weyrlings in the beginning. "Irianke. Weyrwoman." Irianke looks bemused and then salutes smartly back, though her impish smile betrays her. "Farideh. Weyrwoman." In speech upper and lower cases can't be heard but there is respect in her voice for the younger woman. "See you later today." And, with that, Farideh exhales out, taking a couple steps back and staring longingly at the sideboard boasting several bottles of wine and sparkling glassware. "Later," is a little quieter, before she turns, to resume her earlier activity of reading and pacing. |
Comments
Faryn (17:43, 8 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
This was surprisingly sweet. Their interactions are always interesting, but this might be my favorite so far. It feels very genuine.
Squishy (17:56, 8 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
This is one of the things I love about Irianke as a character, and I think it's wonderful too to see Farideh working so hard to be what she believes she needs to be. It's such a wonderful dynamic between the two of them.
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