Logs:Lemons and Honesty
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| RL Date: 15 December, 2015 |
| Who: Irianke, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Irianke gives Lys advice about mundane things like boys. |
| Where: Lakeshore, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 18, Month 6, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: V'ret/Mentions |
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>---< Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs) >-------------------------------<
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but
here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening
and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions
to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides
warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced
off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water
there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows
drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge
undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be
bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge
divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky
outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one
-- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly
tempting stairs.
The weather today is very pleasant. A few clouds chase each other across
the mostly clear skies, and a soft breeze picks up in the afternoon to
make for a fine day.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Irianke F 40 5'7" slender, dark curly hair, stone blue eyes 1m
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s Late though the hour is growing, there's a weyrling out of bed. Lys and her lifemate are standing together at lake's edge, quite still, save for Evyth's tail that can't seem to quiet her natural energy so completely and thus poke ripples into the water at the edge of the lake. The young woman's boots are some distance back on the sand, her toes pressed into the damp stuff where she stands. Evyth moves first, canting her head as she looks down at the blonde. "I don't know," comes quiet confession from Lys. "It was stupid." The soft snort from the green obviously disagrees. The pleasantness of a summer's evening combined with being cooped in due the the recent sickness has Irianke out and about at night, though not dancing or in her usual night time trysts. The goldrider, instead, is doing a slow jog about the lake, her arms loose at her sides and her curly hair pulled back into a short bobbly little runner tail at the nape of her neck. Companionless and quite slow, the older woman turns a bend about the lake shore, slowing even further at the silhouette of a dragon, young by the size, and its rider, until she's at a brisk walk just as Lys speaks, the voice as familiar as the face the woman spies out. "Stupid?" interjects Irianke, her voice kind. Even at this hour, movement in the Weyr is common, so it's probably not surprising that the sound of Irianke's approaching tread did little more than draw Lys' eye briefly, no recognition in the darkness, until the voice, which causes a sharp pull of the young woman's attention back to the Weyrwoman. "Hi," is warmth and some odd relief. "Just--" The green turns her head to warble her own bright (but soft) greeting, "A boy. It's nothing." Nothing that makes her blush dark enough to be seen in the dark. "How are you? I miss you." The pair of phrases are probably meant to redirect the conversation but are obviously heartfelt given the way they tumble atop each other as if they had to fight for placement in the order of the greenrider's speech. A quick hand runs through her the curls in her short runnertail, the fingers pulling apart a tangle there and then coming down while shaking some caught hairs onto the ground. Irianke takes in a sharp, deep inhalation, which then exhales slowly; the woman steadying her exercise breathing. "I'm well. Not sick," is her very dry sense of humor rearing its head, then covered by a, "But things have, thankfully, petered off without doing too much damage to our Weyr." Other areas might be different stories. "But, a boy?" The mundaneness of boy compared to plague is something the goldrider is very much more interested in this, especially with this particular weyrling and the continued curiosity, and interest, is unwavering as she presses this subject out of Lys. "Good," is sincere answer to the Weyrwoman's humor. "Your family... have you heard from--?" No doubt Lys means especially those she came to know. There's concern in her expression, but even so she manages to next look a little annoyed with herself. "A boy. I mean, with plague, it's-- and it would be stupid anyway because-- I don't. I mean," she's flustered already and Irianke isn't even the boy in question. Some light stretches take over Irianke's attention, at least the physical parts of it. She's rotating at her hips, swinging her torso back and forth and stretching her arms out at each paused side. "No, thankfully. No one in my family got the plague. They're a little further west and the ones who are based near the Hold made sure to quarantine as quickly as I could get word out." The goldrider's lips purse. "But it was more likely sheer dumb luck that everyone made it out unscathed." The subject of boy is put aside to share this news. But only for a moment. There's distinct relief in the exhale that Lys has. "Good," is quieter and less emphatic, but no less heartfelt. "It's the only time in my life I think I've been grateful not to have a family to worry about. I'm glad yours are safe. Is there anything I can do? To help you? I mean, I know I'm learning everything about being a rider, and there's the silver thread lessons, but-" but, she could try? Nevermind that Irianke has assistants for that. "Lys," the singular name spoke is uttered in gentle admonishment, but Irianke says nothing further. It carries in it both reproof and understanding of the other woman's desires and where they come from. "This boy," there's that boy again, "Is he what's made you flustered?" You know, back when she started jogging up slowly. "And makes you think something is, what's the word... stupid?" Lys looks appropriately chastened and doesn't protest (now, this time). There's just a little defeated sigh that probably goes as much for the curtailed offer as the return to the topic of the boy. "Yes, sort of. I feel dumb, for spending this much time thinking about what he meant by if I wanted things to go beyond cards when there's so many other, more important things to think about and memorize and do. I still have to figure out how not to get sick on my dragon every time we fly, for Faranth's sake." That comes with an expressive gesture of both hands at the sky. "Suck a lemon candy," is Irianke's advice, quickly given as her stretching subsides. "That helped me early on. And trust her," is the next piece of advice, a rueful look thinning Irianke's lips. "As for overthinking what a boy says," rue turns into wistful and the goldrider looks out across the darkening lake and lets out a softly audible sigh. Oh those days. "I find," says the goldrider, the smile heard in her voice, "When boys say things like that, they are equally as unsure of what they precisely mean. So," the brunette looks down at Lys and then at Evyth, "Just be honest of what you like and if you like him to him. Honesty helps bridge a lot of misunderstandings." "Lemons and honesty," Lys repeats. "Lemon candy seems easiest, but I've never had much trouble being honest, just-- being forthcoming." That's always been the hang up. "It's--" She hesitates as she tries to find the words. "I thought all this was something I could put off forever." There's a glance to her green, the one who's right there, but doing an excellent job of being inconspicuous. The lake is just so interesting right now. "But I can't. And I can't tell if I'm open to the idea of it now because of me or because I know what's coming with her. I almost think it would be better to just wait until she flies and then figure it all out," there's a grimace since she's surely heard rumors of the horror stories that can stem from taking that route. "Oh, sweetheart," Irianke reaches out, her hand clasping Lys's shoulder first and then swiftly turning into a one-armed, albeit slightly sticky, hug. "I wish I could tell you what to do and have it all turn out fine, but you should trust in yourself and how you and she feels about anything, particularly with this." She lets go of the embrace and looks at the greenriding weyrling. "There's nothing worse than the anticipation itself and yet, I wish, sometimes, my first time were more special than a casual romp in a literal haystack." Lys takes the hug, stickiness and all with gratitude. "A literal haystack?" It comes with a dubious nosewrinkle. "Truthfully, I'm not even-- I don't even know why I said I'd -- I asked him to play cards, sort of. I encouraged him. I don't know why I wasn't just mean and aloof like I always am," always, to everyone who's not on the short list of special people in Lys' life. "I don't feel like myself when I'm--" she struggles for the word: "-nice." Irianke secrets a smile at that, the struggle and the eventual word Lys opts for. "You may be selling yourself short or else," the woman slants a brief look at Evyth, dark blue eyes ruminating on the green before returning to the green's rider. "I don't advise a haystack. Hay can get exceedingly awkward and irritating. Unfortunately," the goldrider looks loathe to conclude the conversation and yet she's gesturing up towards the bowl, "Niahvth is," she pauses, "Requesting my attention to her being." It's a rare occurrence, rare enough for Irianke to seem perplexed, "It was good to catch up." Lys takes in Irianke's advice with a thoughtful look, a smile briefly cracking for the hay, and a lift of the brows for Niahvth. "Go, go," the greenrider encourages. "I'll be here," is more of a statement than just that they can talk another time, but it's simple in its way. "Thank you," is the last that's offered the goldrider before the greenrider and her lifemate go back to their own quiet communion. |
Comments
V'ret (00:10, 6 December 2015 (PST)) said...
Honesty? Let's not be hasty, here.
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