Logs:Honest Communication
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| RL Date: 12 March, 2013 |
| Who: Mave, Wakizian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mave and Wakizian have some honest communication. The ridiculousness stops and friendship is begun. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: High winds whip through the bowl and whistle up the walls around the spires. |
| Mentions: Nicky/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
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| Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr Polished marble and granite surfaces, gleaming metalwork and pale woods characterize the vaulted fastness of the kitchen. Several large hearths gape red-mouthed against the outer wall of the cavern, their fires almost always stoked for the constant cooking the Weyr requires to feed its denizens. Sinks line the wall to one side of the hearths, providing ample space to wash large quantities of dishes, while to the other, cabinetry and a deep pantry provide storage space for items commonly needed on a day-to-day basis. The remaining wall space is taken up by passageways and extra seating: swinging doors that lead variously to the main living cavern, the inner caverns and the storage rooms, a counter-height pass-through for food service to the Snowasis, and a series of nooks equipped with tables and benches for quick, out-of-the-way meals any time of day.
Residents bustle in-between regular kitchen staff, the usual Weyr mix of workers, and the next time the doors swing in from the living caverns, they introduce Mave to the small crowd. She's one of two carrying towels from having rubbed down the meal tables, whistling aimlessly as she trots up to the main woman in charge of the work rotations this morning. Jokingly, the woman offers Mave a trade: the dirty towel for one of the last of the sweet breakfast rolls about to be sent through to the nighthearth for late snackers and older folk. Accepting, Mave extricates herself from the major productive bustle of the room in order to take two fingers to the job of peeling apart her well-earned treat. She winds up near the nook for kitchen eaters as she's dangling a thread of, basically, sugared dough into her mouth like a snake. Something makes Wakizian look up, and away from his food. It might be a loud bang made by a kitchen worker dropping a pot, but for fun, let's call it trouble-making girl radar. In the sweeping glance that's made across the kitchen, brown eyes latch onto the scrawny figure of Mave as she pixies her way through the other workers and ends up not far off from his nook. He waits, just long enough for her to be putting the first bit of dough into her mouth, then in a markedly neutral tone, "I'm told only animals eat standing up. But that may be because I do if someone doesn't remind me to sit down with my plate." Pause, "Join me, Mave?" "Mffemm," responds Mave, half-rejecting the dough in her throat so that it just fills her mouth to complete muffle. Her chin dropping to search the nearby nooks does nothing for her delicate eating. Only once Wakizian is spotted does she manage to stop, gnaw the bit of dough in her mouth off from the rest, and lower her hand. Rambunctious chewing greets him first when she sidles over towards the boy's table of choice. A hand guides her along the tabletop as she reaches its small corner, short swing around landing her on the bench next to him, her hip bumping him to say move. Little room need be cleared for her size, less than the bump illustrates, and as she sits, her eyes shift to him, wondering. Boundaries or not, here she is, so she pointedly plucks another piece off the roll and stuffs it in her mouth. Wakizian does scoot at her bumping - giving her far more room than is necessary, sliding his plate and mug with him. There's at least a body's worth of space between the two. He lifts the mug of klah and takes a sip. He might think to politely inquire after how the sweet roll is, or how her seven's been going since their meeting about betting math, but the Smith's never been one to dance around a subject, so after his sip, he simply say, "So you didn't think to mention to me that day in the stables that you were snogging my best friend?" A single brow arches at her, "Was that because you wanted me to kiss you and knew I wouldn't if I knew Nicky'd--" He puzzles a moment over just how to phrase what he wants to say, seems to flounder for a moment before simply saying, "-done it? Kinda makes me seem the fool, doesn't it?" The look he gives her at this is accusatory, but more casually so than aggressively.
"Mave," Wakizian's baritone is hushed, and there's hurt there, "There was plenty of time in all of those compliments I was giving you, for you to say something. Or when I brought up the rumor. Or after I kissed you." The mug is set down and he twists towards her, reaching the hand closest to her up to tuck her hair behind her ear, so he can better see her face, unless she flinches away from his touch. "After the kiss-- you should have at least told me then. You knew I didn't know. And you probably knew I wouldn't have kissed you if I had." His voice is gently chiding. "Was it really just because you wanted Nicky to tell me? Or because you were afraid to? What did you have to lose?" His expression as his eyes seek hers is intense, focused, vulnerable, and searching. No flinch, just the bounce of hair, and a clear shot at freckles and big, brown eyes; Mave stares, softly flabbergasted, at him for his move. "Yeah," she half-sputters, though full of conviction, ambiguous to any of his multiple suggestions. "I wanted Nicky to own up if he thought it was a big deal." Vulnerability in his eyes finally seems to make her flinch, glancing off. "And I wanted to," hands toss up and then hit the table; she fumbles with the last bit of roll, tearing it apart ruthlessly, "have a conversation with you that, for once, didn't end in us throwing accusations at each other. But, really," shoulders falling as she starts to slump on the bench, "I kind of deserved the whole problem because I was too stupid to move a lesson out of the shardin' crowded Snowasis. So it serves me right if Hana an' you find out in the worst way." Wakizian sighs heavily, sitting back himself, hands falling into his lap. "It is a big deal." Then he pauses and in a forced tone, he corrects: "Was. At any rate," He hurries on, "I don't think you have anything to worry about as far as Hana goes. Apparently, Nicky's changed his mind and doesn't like her." He shrugs, as though it doesn't matter to him (har har), "He likes you. And I'm glad to know the feelings mutual, since you're only concern about kissing him is that you did it somewhere public and got caught." He closes his eyes for a moment and then takes up his klah, sipping through a grimace. After a few sips, he forces his face to clear of discontent and with disconcerting neutrality (the kind that comes from someone who just wants to hit something!), he says, blandly: "I hope you two are happy together." Shared grimaces, as Mave's face scrunches in distress and disbelief-- and a little not disbelieving-- though, with a bite of her lip, she appears to take anything Wakizian says, at this point, with a huge messy grain of salt. Palms smack on the table edge once she's gotten herself together. "Is that really what you heard just now? Are you-- ?" But, a flip: from starting to insist, to utterly washing her hands of it. Even her hands rise up and show surrendering palms. Jutting to her feet, she gives him another shake of her head. "I refuse-- " and, mid-word, remembers to righteously snack the bit of roll left off the table, because: delicious. "To sit through another conversation where words are put in my mouth! Have a nice Hatching!" It seems out of place, next to the complaint, but her straight-forward encouragement is no less sincere than her exasperation. Throughout, she backs up, heading out. "I'll be in the Galleries wishing you well, if that's not too public!" Wakizian has only a moment to look annoyed with himself, because she's escaping all too quickly, he sliiiides quickly on the bench, reaching out an arm to catch her wrist firmly, but gently, "Mave, wait." His look is apologetic, and he releases the hold on her wrist to slip his hand down to hers, clasping it gently. "Please." His face scrunches together for a second and he lets out a puff of air, "I'm sorry. I don't mean for anything to come out-- bad-- I just-- want you to be happy. Can we start this conversation over? Please?" His eyes are big and sad, and there's a gentle pressure from his fingers to hers as he makes his plea. "I'll shut up and you can tell me what I should have heard, but didn't." With a sigh he admits the reason: "Because I'm an ass." Shoulder wresting against the grab of her arm, Mave's struggle subsides right after, letting his hand stay, then drift, as she glares stubbornly at him, attempting to hold an air of loftiness that, it turns out, goes beyond her range. Trying to keep irritated causes her to shift her eyes to the side-- she takes a second to flash the dirtiest look at a fellow resident who dares stare conspiratorially at them too long. Looking back at him, Mave can keep the unfathomable judgment up only so long. Seconds after, she's pushing her tongue into the inside of her lower lip, brushing it over her teeth, and creating indecisive bulges all around her mouth. "Apology-- accepted." Because that's the polite thing to do. Fingers writhe, squeeze his unreadably, then she tries to free her hand to set both of hers on hips. "But, fucking Faranth, Wakizian. Caught? Like I'm some kind of... conniving criminal? If you knew how that made me feel, you'd be apologizing again!" The candidate releases her hand, though perhaps he mightn't've if he'd only known that it was going to go from there to the you're in trouble look of many a woman. When the hands go on the hips, you're in for it. "Well, I don't." Wakizian quips (probably not the right tone to take with a peeved person you just convinced not to walk away from you). "But I'm sorry anyway." This is offered with true repentance and he sits back down on the bench sliding back to his food. "I didn't mean to imply you're some kind of criminal, though it might go a good ways for your betting business if people thought so." There he goes being helpful again. "It's just... the way that you said it made it sound like you didn't have any regrets about doing it, just where you did it." It clearly disappoints him a little that she doesn't regret kissing Nicky. "Because, at the time, I didn't." Mave appears to have taken the blunt approach, perhaps due to the darkened nature of her usually wide brown eyes. "He asked me for help, and I was upset because of you," she reins in some of the accusation, though, as it's since been proven that it was both of their faults; it's just a point made. "And even though we stumbled into it, and he wouldn't shut up about his best friend," pointedly: note, Wakizian, he cared! "It seemed to make him feel better, while I was pretty sure he was nervous about kissing a lady he actually liked!" Now that it's been suggested he doesn't, her voice takes on a higher, ridiculous pitch that echoes how it's dizzying around in her mind. "So, no, I'm not saying any of that was perfect thinking... just that... y'know how I said sometimes a kiss is just a kiss? Well..." arms spread then fall, with a clap, to her sides, hands nervously rubbing at her thighs. "I would, like... super enjoy getting a moment where it didn't... have to be about liking or not liking. It's not a race. So..." deep sigh; she seems to realize she's been going on a bit, and it flushes her cheeks. "What would make me happy... is just getting... I don't know!" She's lost her nerve, or her energy. The heel of her hand runs across an eyebrow. "To be someone's friend. And getting to know them, before it gets all ridiculous." Wakizian can't help but close his eyes at Mave's words about what was happening when Nicky and Mave stumbled into it (and met at the lips!), swallowing hard. With effort, his face remains neutral as she talks about Nicky being nervous. "I was nervous about kissing a girl I actually liked." He shrugs, "I guess some people man up and--" He cuts himself short, by punching his thigh (not too gently either). "Sorry. I'm an ass. Forget I said that. It was immature and stupid." He punches again, not as hard the second time and then grabs up his large klah mug in both hands, cradling it, perhaps to keep himself from inflicting more punishment on himself. "It's not a race. It's not even about other people. Anything that happens with two people is just about those two people." Even if it affects more than just them. "I don't see it as a race. And you don't have to worry. No ridiculousness from me. Except for the parts where I'm an ass. But you can hit me for those - not in the face - if I don't hit myself for them, alright?" His brows raise in question, before saying. "I know I'm an ass." How many times has he proclaimed that now? "But if you want an ass for a friend, I'm available. No funny business. Promise." At least not for a few sevendays to a few turns, depending on how the sands go, and some other things! "Can I say one more thing while I'm just an ass?" He asks, then clarifies: "Before I'm an ass who's your friend, I mean?" "You don't have to say 'ass' that many times." Mave, finally relenting. Frowns have softened, and her hands now wrinkle self-consciously into her shirt, just behind her hips. "Sometimes, my language is stronger than it should be, too..." There: now she's apologized as well, toe poking into the floor. "It's just been... really up and down lately." With a half-squinted eye, she looks up at him, testing if he understands; it sounds like it's been for him, too. But, when bidden to let him speak his mind, eyes flash towards wary; skepticism keeps her mouth worrying instead of immediately answering. "Am I going to hit you for it?" Sounding like that's the last thing she wants to do right now. Up and down! She's tired, wiped from just one conversation, and it shows in the stressful little hands plucking at her hair, soothing it back on both sides just to keep occupied. Bunched into one clump, the hair is then trailed over one shoulder, where only some of it stays willingly. "Okay," uncertainly, "But, first I'm leading with that I know that the whole... lesson thing got out of hand. With you and Nicky. And it's not a good excuse. But I'd like it to be behind us." "Nicky would hit me for it before you would, I think." Wakizian replies after a careful moment of consideration. He stares at his klah in silence, letting her say her piece, and he nods. "Agreed. No more lessons. I'm going to learn as I go along." And he might be about to earn himself another one. He turns an intense and troubled gaze on Mave. "I'm telling you this because we're about to be friends again, and if we were friends and you found out something that might matter like this, I'd want you to tell me." Pause. "Not because I'm trying to come in the middle of anything that might--" He trails off shaking his head since she's said she doesn't want any of the ridiculousness, "--well, anything with you and Nicky. I just don't want you to get your feelings hurt, so, before you go kissing him again, if you go kissing him again, for whatever reason," Wakizian tries to make it clear that he heard her when she said it was a lesson that got out of hand, "-I would ask him about anyone else he might have been kissing, before you decide to get involved. Just-- so there's honest communication. K'del told me that's the way it needs to be." Beat. "And since we're on the subject of honest communication, I guess I should tell you I'm taking Azaylia on a date. Someday." He frowns a little, "So, I'm an ass. But I'll stop saying it now. And I'll be honest and up front and--" Swallow, "--responsible, from now on." He looks to her, "And a friend. If you want me as one." He seems uncertain of this, now that he's dropped those would-be revelations into the fray. There's a lot of stuff, and Mave briefly looks lost in it, with her forehead crinkling as she sorts each piece into its small cubicle in her head. But, coming out, there's no tensing of muscles, and her mouth is thin but not clenched. "K'del!" She's gasping, at last, eyes lighting up with commendation, "That's the smartest thing I've heard all sevenday." Relief flushes her, hope aimed at Wakizian, though tethered by an apprehension that can't quite be quelled so soon. Comments are hidden behind a forcible closure of her mouth. Then she nods a couple of times, hair instantly sliding out of its grouping. "Someday? And you're frowning?" Lower lip pushes up to show foreboding for those signs. "Sure that's a 'no' about those lessons?" Palms shoot up. "Joke, joke. I bet the weyrwoman is supremely better at making herself known than me." Not an ounce of jealous, it merely seems pretty certain, all things considered. "Though... she's still just a person. So, y'know. Don't get yourself all in a tizzy first." Making sure not to put too much weigh to it, not to sound like she's giving Wakizian orders, she carefully extends her hand out to him, fingers lightly spread but ready for clasping. "It's all out? Friends, then?" "No!" Wakizian protests immediately to her question about frowning. "No? He then seems to question. "Alright, maybe." He admits finally. He chews his lip while she goes on about Azaylia. "I'm not nervous about the date--" What was that he just said about honest communication? His face says he's lying before his lips do, "Okay. So I am worried about the date. But mostly I'm worried because I haven't caught up with-" Translation: has been avoiding, "-Azaylia to tell her I kissed you, so I'm mostly worried that K'del is going to brawl me for hurting her - if that hurts her, or that Bones will clock me. I just got my face back." He rubs the side where there was recently a bruise, but no longer a sevenday and change later. The Bones thing might explain the comment from the other day. "Maybe she'll understand though." He adds that hopefully. "I just-- don't know what I'm going to say." Beat. "You could give me advice, as a friend. Not lessons. If you had any ideas." Because clearly he doesn't. But the hand is clasped. The friendship bargain is struck! Mave loses track of her hand in Wakizian's, consistently giving it a gentle up and down shake, while pondering over the Azaylia situation. "I'm not sure... that you have to?" Tone upturning into a question so that she's not jumped on immediately, while searching the words out of the air to explain. "I mean, I'm not the anti-K'del. I'm not saying lie. Just... that maybe you don't have to run in there yelling it to the skies." She shrugs. "She's kissed people before, don'tcha think? Did she list all of them for you when you asked her on this date?" A perk tugs at her lips; she might be resisting an amused smile at Wakizian's expense. "Or, umm..." Though it thins out when she becomes less confident of the tone of her advice. "Like... 'hey, weyrwoman, I've kissed a girl before, but you're my first date." Like she's special! Cause she is." Or she better be, suggests the feminine narrow of Mave's eyes in defense of all her gender. That, too, softens, inevitably; dates are dates, as well as kisses are kisses, it would seem. "Really, though. My only advice?" Lies! Or else he's meant to forget everything else. "Be nervous. I think someone who isn't nervous at all is usually the one who messes up the worst, cause he or she's not schooling himself, y'know?" At some point in her advice giving, the hands casually part, and Wakizian turns back to his plate, still listening as he starts to shovel down food. Then at something she says, he goes from tan to scarlet! It was just after that thing she suggested with the kissing a girl before and first day. "Shards and shells and trundlebugs." He sounds mortified. "That's pretty much exactly how I asked her for a date. Problem being that now I've kissed two people. Not just the one I mentioned." Ah ha! And here is the crux of why he feels he owes her an explanation at all. It's like mathematics: it all comes down to the order of operations. "She is special. Or I wouldn't have asked. I'm just worried that if I don't tell her before the date that something happened with someone else, it'll come back to bite me if the date goes well and it'll be a bigger deal if the date goes well and then it bites me than if I just bit the flamethrower and told her from the outset. She's practically prophetic, really. She said when she accepted that I could call it off if I found someone closer to my own age that I liked better, but--" And then they're into murky water, so he just shuts up, "I just don't want her to think I'm a kid just because I did kiss someone I--" And he skips over the feelings Mave's made it clear she generally objects to from him at this time, "And didn't just wait until I could make good on the offer of the date. And maybe none of it would have happened if Weyrwoman Brieli hadn't told me that dating riders is different and some riders might expect-- company for the night after a date." He gulps. She wanted him to be nervous? He is, at least about this! "Thennn... be honest!" Wakizian's nerves seem to be catching; Mave's hands wrangle with her shirt a second time till she stills her fingers authoritatively. "Tell her you kissed a girl younger than you, but she just wanted to be friends, and would Azaylia still like that date." Slowness in her syllables marks her feeling out the words even as she says them, using telling him as a test to see how it sounds. She's not wholly satisfied, but not disappointed, either, retracting none but tugging her mouth lightly down. As to riders and dating, she hums curiously. "Because you can't sneak out of their bed before they wake up? Oh!" Fingers snap, "The weyrwoman's weyr is on the ground floor." Tada, oh my Faranth, problem solved. "Anyhow, I'm not sure what Brieli meant, though I'm sure Brieli knows better. Cause, riders are just riders because of their dragons. And the dragons aren't involved in night company. Well... I mean, they're there. And they are if it's a flight, but that's not the... " She stops, utterly, brows caving in steadily. "I forgot what I was saying... But I think the point was that some residents expect company too? I didn't really think that was a specifically rider thing." "No, Smarty-Pants," Wakizian responds in a half-exasperated, half-teasing tone, "Not because I can't sneak out of a rider's bed before they wake up, because I've never done what it would take to make them fall asleep to begin with." He rolls his eyes. He chose to respond to that first, but comments to her first suggestion. "Somehow I don't think making myself look like a loser will help my case. And if I was going to say that, I would probably say something like, 'I kissed Mave, but it doesn't matter because she kisses everyone'." He's obviously razzing her, even going so far as to stick his tongue out at her childishly once he's said so. Then he's back to shoveling food into his mouth for a minute. "I think Weyrwoman Brieli just meant that some riders don't go on dates without it turning into an all-night affair. I'm not sure if Azaylia would-- want-- that. If things went well, at any rate." He says this haltingly. "And I guess you're right about residents too. I think maybe Weyrwoman Brieli meant more like-- don't go into a date thinking about holderish ideals of marriage and exclusivity?" This he's supposing uncertainly. "But since I'm only hold-born, not bred, I didn't really have any delusions about that. I'm not sure that weyrmating is really something I ever want. I'm probably... more... casual?" He tries to sort it out as he speaks, and his pitch is raised questioningly, though it's most probable that he's asking himself more than her. Mave fakes a jolt forward, faux-fist popping up when he sticks out his tongue, and slackens just as quickly. "Maybe if you didn't think it made you look like a loser then you wouldn't sound like a loser." Nyeh, nyeh. Yet there's an inkling of real thought there. Listening to the interpretation of Brieli, she sniffs gently, plays a hand into her hair. "Well..." She thinks hard, rubbing her hand under her nose for another sniff. "If you don't... know... then-- you're probably thinking about it too much? She either does or she doesn't. Worrying about it isn't going to, poof, give you insight. And, jeez. Do holders really do that?" Queries the girl born in a hold. "A single date. It's a single date. That'd be absurd to jump from single date to marriage. That's like asking someone to decide to only eat fish for the rest of their life when they've never had fish before." Scrunching up her nose and mouth then shaking it out she dismisses it all, psh, no desire to think further. "Speaking of-- " it's an odd transition, with her hand finding her belly, fingers splayed, but it works for her. "I've gotta bring my mum her after-breakfast." "Holders are backwards. I'll never understand why Nicky decided to try to set me up with Hana. Hana's his speed-" Wakizian's nose wrinkles, not at the thought of Hana, but at the thought of Nicky's, "On second thought, she's not. Hana's better off just dancing the Hatching Feast away with no escort." He lets the topic of riders and overnight company drop, instead asking, "Is she doing any better?" of Mave's mother. "It's not serious, is it?" Concern wrinkles his brow, enough for him to stop eating - not that there's much left! A few bites, if that. "She's-- fine!" A chipper proposal, as Mave shakes her head, "You know she's the toughest lady you ever met." A crooked half-grin as she steps back, gesturing towards the quarters, "It's just medicine after meals and she hates medicine, so. It's better when I'm there." All smiles and certainty, she halts her back-step only to sidle forward, reaching out in a practical hurry to touch Wakizian's upper arm in a friendly manner. Fingers squeeze into the fabric of his shirt. "You take care of yourself, yeah? No beating yourself up and, well, I'll try not to do the same." Then, suddenly, those fingers are pinching him playfully. Her last 'nyeh!' before she scurries contentedly back, bustling off towards the inner caverns through the swinging door, kitchen staff waved to as she goes. "Alright. Yeah." That's the whole of his responses before she goes, and he lifts a hand to wave to her as she goes. Wakizian stares down at his plate then, taking a deep breath. "Friends." He mutters to himself, then shakes his head. "What was I thinking?" Whether that is to the newly formed friends only alliance or to the whole kissing and liking fiasco, is anyone's guess - if anyone even heard him! He finished up and drains his klah, fully refreshed, and it's back to chopping and slicing and washing for him. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:Honest Communication"Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 13 Mar 2013 00:34:29 GMT.
Hey, there were no black eyes this time. That's definitely an improvement! And Mave... everything she says is both practical and hilarious. Poor tizzy'd Waki. ^^;
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