Logs:Home Coming
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| RL Date: 30 January, 2016 |
| Who: Farideh, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Drex comes home. Again. |
| Where: Farideh and Roszadyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 12, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: T'gar/Mentions, Ethran/Mentions, Itsy/Mentions |
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| Winter's been fully set in at High Reaches for nearly three sevens now, and still no sign of Farideh's sailor. In fact, it's been a while since Drex wrote her -- but then he was always sporadic at best about it when he's on the sea, regardless. It's the morning after the weyrling party in her weyr when a familiar shadow darkens the entrance, clearing his throat loudly and noticeably. Drex is looking extremely tanned, already olive skin darkened further by months in the sun, a knapsack slung over his shoulder, standing in the entrance like he's not sure whether he's game to fully enter or not. So instead, he just makes vague noises in the hopes he'll be noticed. Snow means a lot of things for the Reaches, and in particular for this goldrider, escaping to the warmth and comfortable of her weyr as much as possible. Morning means her daily ritual has begun, but just barely. It's at the new table before the hearth, with its accompanying 'c'-shaped couches, that Farideh sits, perusing the morning reports and meetings minutes while her assistants putter around the sideboard; one going over another set of minutes and the second polishes the glassware. Domestic though the scene may seem -- she's finely dressed in gray, her hair pulled back from her face -- it's a usual spectacle for the acting weyrwoman, these days. She's got her lips lightly pursed as she reads, and it's that same face that turns, in surprise, when Drex clears his throat. His presence catches her off guard enough that her first emotion is unbridled happiness, which shows in her eyes and the radiance of her face, until-- reality hits, and her expression darkens. "You decided to show your face," she says, features set. While Drex's gaze briefly goes to the assistants (are those new ones? again?) it doesn't linger long on them, settling on Farideh's form with a frown borne of concentration. This fades at her initial reaction to his presence, sparking an answering grin -- that doesn't dim when her expression changes. "Aye." He's still standing on the edge of the entrance, looking distinctly like he doesn't belong in his dirty, worn clothes. He shifts the sack on his shoulder, as if it has some weight to it, and waits, as if uncertain what sort of welcome he might expect. "Zoas, Arva, can you both leave us, please?" Do they names ring a bell? No? Well, they're new, and not the first set of new assistants since he's left, either. Farideh doesn't look back at the two girls, or their subsequent smirking expressions, when she makes her demands, but they're both eager to leave and let the pair alone; even if they push each other on their way out. "Aye? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" she says, her hands curling around the edge of the table, knuckles white. "You left without a word, like you were running from something, and now what?" Her chin lifts obstinately, her anger still simmering underneath the surface Drex is kind of in the way of the girls leaving, though, and he makes a grunted noise to sidestep their jostling exit, which forces him to step further inside. "Aint sure what else to say, really," the sailor readily admits, with one of his familiar almost shrugs. "Wasn't running from something," he adds, quickly defensive. "Running to the sea. I left you a note," his brow furrows, like he doesn't understand why she's angry. Because an attempt at pre-goodwill dinner and a note to say 'bye, bae!' is clearly sufficient. "You're not sure what else to say." It's not a favorable repetition, and Farideh's emotions seem to be warring for the greatest felt sentiment. "You left me a note, instead of telling me to my face," she growls, throwing off any pretense of calm, and jabs a finger into her own chest. "After you tried milking my friend for ideas on how to make me not mad when you were planning to leave me without a single word in goodbye. Why is that so hard to do? Why couldn't you say it to me instead of just leaving?" Clearly, anger is winning, for now. "I told you why," Drex says, shifting his sack, as if determined not to set it down, like that might concede a point. "If I said I wanted to go, you'd have told me not to go, and I might've agreed. Wouldn't have been good," the sailor concludes, rubbing a hand over his chin, like he's frustrated and trying hard (and probably failing) not to show it. "Told you I'd need to go back to the sea sometime." The goldrider tries to control her raging temper, breathing deeply and refusing to look at him for a spell. It's undecidedly whether it actually worked or not, when she turns her head at glare at him. "And I told you when you wanted to go back, I wouldn't stop you. I said you could go. I wouldn't ask you to stay when you so clearly didn't want to be here. Yet, you still hid it from me until you were gone." Farideh looks disgusted, and pushes up from the table to stalk towards the hearth, hands on her waist. "Figured it be easier, y'know? Less--" Drex grimaces, like he's trying to come up for a word that might substitute for one that might get him in more trouble, "Fuss," is the word he settles on, though the twist of his lips suggests he's unsatisfied with it. "Anyway, I didn't mean to be away so long, but our ship got holed, and we had to fix it on this island and," he gives another of those half-shrugs, nearly dislodging the sack from his shoulder. A scoff from the fireplace, and Farideh's pivoting to stare at him with an incredulous expression. "How is that easier? Less fuss?" She stands there with her fingers curling up into fists and uncurling, and curling, and-- until she can't take it any longer, and she stomps up to him with anger still evident in her flashing eyes and the set of her mouth. "And you had the nerve to set your hound on me. I only found out about the one, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were more. Do you trust me that little? After everything?" "Just seemed that way. Figured you'd be yellin' like this," Drex perhaps unwisely confesses. "Just wanted to be, y'know, nice." When she stalks up to him, he actually rocks a half step back, mostly in surprise, frowning down at her, abruptly. "My what?" he looks completely baffled, at that last. "Didn't set nobody on you." No, that confession doesn't win him any points; instead, Farideh's cheeks flush with color. "You're lying, too? You had your friend T'gar watch me, which is actually quite clever since I would have never accused a weyrling of such behavior and I see them often. You do this instead of trusting me, after you left, to keep my promise to you, to your family," she grounds out, angrily. Her stare is intense, so he should be glad she can't shoot daggers out of her eyes or anything. "T'gar?" Drex echoes, in surprise and confusion. "Aint really a friend. Had one drink with him. Might've chatted with him a bit about, y'know, you, but didn't tell him to look after you. Fish's tits, he's a bronzerider, wouldn't trust him. Besides, aint no one knew I was going, 'cept I told the assistant headwoman so she wouldn't expect me to show up." He reaches out a hand for Farideh's arm, though slowly, like one might approach an hissing kitten. "I didn't, have anyone watch you for me. Figured that bluerider of yours would keep a close enough eye on you, even if it aint with the most noble of intentions." Nothing about the woman's face, or emotions, changes, but the hand that reaches towards her is given a wary side eye, even if she doesn't move away or slap it away. "Yes, T'gar. He seemed quite taken with the idea that someone you trust should be watching me so no one takes advantage of me," Farideh says, still angrily. "Are you saying he came up with that on his own? Why would he care about watching me unless it was for his friend?" She doesn't seem to be taking what he's saying as truth, but she's not throwing things and she's still giving him the opportunity to explain, so it can't be that bad. "How the fuck should I know what a bronzerider thinks, or why they do what they do? They're all," Drex makes a noise of frustration. "I didn't ask him to do nothing," he repeats, growling now, his hand dropping back to his side. "Why don't you go yell at him instead of me?" He shifts the weight of his sack, and turns, "I'm gonna go see our son." "No." It might sound contrary to everything up to this point, but Farideh grabs hold of whatever part of his shirt she can get her fingers around. "You don't get to run away because you don't want to hear it. What you did was terrible. How would you feel if I did the same thing to you? No, you can go sit down on the couch and explain yourself. Better," she tells him, chin lifting. It's her voice, more than her grasping at his dirty clothes that makes Drex rock to a halt. "I don't want to hear it because it's wrong as a dollfin's knob on an avian's back. And you did do the same thing to me -- you decided to go stand, and told me afterwards, because you knew I wouldn't be happy." The sailor's arms fold across his chest. He's not sitting on the couch, but he isn't leaving either, so that might be a win. His answer surprises her, but only briefly. "You're still mad about that? It's been two turns now, Drex. You could have left me a hundred times since then. You could have left me after you found out," Farideh says, frustration in her voice. "It was a long time ago, and it wasn't the same. It was a life choice that I needed to make, for me, for my future. This is-- this is just hiding the truth because you didn't want to tell me. It's hurtful." "Aint mad about it no more. Just saying I do know how it feels." Drex retorts, posture defensive even if his voice has lolled back into his sailor drawl. "This was a choice that I needed to make too." He takes a breath, scowling, even if his voice is softer. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you in person. Wasn't sure I'd go if I did. Tried to make it as easy as I could." For him as much as her, is implied. The moment is rife with tension, and now that Farideh's gotten a hold on her expressions, it's hard to tell exactly what's going on inside her head. She eventually drops her hand, followed by her arms crossing over her chest, but most of the stiffness and aggression in her stance slowly melts away. "I wish you hadn't. I wish you wouldn't, in the future. I'm not completely inflexible and not understanding, you know." Drex is silent for a long moment, rubbing a hand over his probably dirty hair. "I didn't want to leave. I had to." He exhales a breath. "How's Ethran?" he asks, softly. Farideh's eyes dance away when she exhales noisily and says, "I know." It might be a testament to growth, or this understanding she says she has. "Growing, every day. Learning all sorts of things. Playing with everything. Laughing. Smiling. He's good. How's--" Her eyes slant back to Drex, uncertain. "Itsy? Everyone?" Drex, too, seems to relax subtly, as if he senses the worst of the storm has passed. His arms unfold, and he takes a step closer to her, smiling as he listens to her talk about Ethran. "I wanted to go see him last night, but they the nannies said was asleep already." He rolls his eyes, tension passing from his posture as he slouches. "Ok. Itsy's mad about the ship, but we got her back to port. Might take longer than winter to get her tip top shape, but most of the crew's not all that upset about spending it at Ista." A beat. "It was... good. Seeing her. Being back on the ship." He says it tentatively, like he doesn't want it cause further arguments. "Good, seeing you again, too," he adds, softer, reaching out a hand for her cheek. "Last night?" Here we again. "You were here last night and you didn't come then?" Farideh's brows come together, lines forming between them. "Oh," Itsy, "and the ship's fine now?" She is tastefully mute on the subject of Ista and the sailors wintering there, or perhaps she's given him another opportunity to try out the talking method. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for, I really do--" Her mouth remains parted after her words cease, for an instant, before her lips close and, so do, her eyes, at the touch of his hand. "I missed you." "I did. There were riders everywhere," Drex says, and we all know how fond he is of them. "Wasn't going to come ruin your party." Plus there were fresh beers on offer at the Snowasis. His, mostly non-verbal, uh-huh is in response to her response to Itsy, likewise avoided for too much awkward. "I missed you too," he murmurs, his thumb brushing against her cheek, leaning in to press lips against her forehead. "Oh," oh. That party. Last night. "You wouldn't have ruined it. Your friends T'gar and V'ret were there. I was hosting something for their classes, before their graduation." Farideh resists it only that much longer, but she's not immune to her emotions, not by half. Her arms finally lift and circle his waist, and she leans into him, sea-smells and all. "Are you staying?" It's not hopeful. It's merely a question. There's plenty he could say -- about the party or his friends, or anything else. But she leans into him, and with an exhale, Drex wraps his arms around her, too, head dropping so his face is pressed against the top of her head, muffling his response somewhat: "Aye." There might be an unspoken for now, but now definitely isn't the time to say it. Silence is Farideh's acceptance, and the longevity of the moment her reticence, but eventually she stirs from under his embrace and leans back, examining his freshly tanned face for the first time since his recent return. "There's so much to tell you," she says, but rather than tell him, she smiles and lifts her face to his, angling for another kiss, this one on the lips. "Plenty of time to tell me," Drex says with a smile, as he leans to meet her lips with his own. That lasts for a spell, until he breaks away to murmur: "Ought to take a bath," he admits, kind of vaguely embarrassed. Although only for about two seconds, because, "Want to join me?" soon follows, his intent clear in the sudden grin that follows. Disappointment marks Farideh's face in the wake of his retraction, but she turns her head to look back at the paperwork on her table. "Yes," she says definitively, glancing back at him with a mischievous smile; her hand reaching for his. "Plenty of time. I think there's a few things you're going to want to know right away," she murmurs, taking the first few steps towards the bathroom, hand tugging his along the way. Drex's, uh-huh, is more definitely positive this time, letting himself be lead towards the bathroom. The thunk of his knapsack hitting the floor goes almost unnoticed along the way. |
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