Logs:Not Enemies
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| RL Date: 21 August, 2014 |
| Who: V'ros, Jadzia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: V'ros wants to talk to Jadzia.. in the middle of the night. They determine they're not enemies. Or friends. |
| Where: Weyrling Barracks, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Clear skies, cool air. |
| OOC Notes: This was played over gdocs from July to August.. backdated. |
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| Midnight rolls around just like every other night and the barracks is quiet, not a whimper to be heard. Most have passed out already, exhausted from the physical and mental stress. Some are still lying awake - particularly, V'ros. He's on his side, eyes open, staring at the bulky brown form of his lifemate, slumbering so soundly. There's not as much clarity in his own expression. Being turned the way he is, he's facing a certain blonde's direction. "Jadzzzia," he whispers hurriedly, picking up his head to look around. Surely she heard that.. or maybe she didn't. He waits, he watches, expectantly. Not that there's much to see in the dark. Does Jadzia ever actually sleep? She must, otherwise she wouldn't be the vaguely functional human being she is. But it must not be very good sleep, because she always seems kind of, well, awake. There's a shift when she hears her name, the tell that she's heard him, but the blonde doesn't actually acknowledge it. Obviously nothing that V'ros could want her for will be worth her time. Fortunately Savroveth is very asleep. Otherwise he'd probably help the other weyrling get her attention. No answer is answer enough. V'ros cautiously pulls his blankets back and sits up, alert gaze surveying the darkened room. He gets up and pads to Jadzia's bedside, squatting down so his brown eyes are level with the side of her cot. "Hey, wake up," he whispers urgently, again casting a look around the cavern for any signs of movement. This may not be the smartest thing he's ever done. "What?" is whispered with an annoyed emphasis as Jadzia turns her head to give V'ros a narrow-eyed look. "It's late. What do you want?" And why is he so close to her space! She sits up and turns to sit on the edge of her cot in one motion as though to force him to move. V'ros doesn't move, which just puts them in an awkward squatting-sitting position. Luckily, he's no pervert. "I want to.. talk." His eyes are bright and alert, despite the darkness and the hour. Jadzia seems a little agitated that V'ros doesn't move out of her way. But then she's been more irritable than usual in general since they all found themselves with new voices in their heads. She glances over at where Savroveth is breathing deeply, peacefully, then back at V'ros with a frown. "What do you want to talk about?" "Stuff." V'ros is a wordsy one. "I want to know.. I want to know about Savroveth. What's he like?" Brown eyes are scanning her face, in the dark, searching for.. something. "I'll tell you about Zmeyth." He settles back on his heels, folding his arms over his knees, and rests his chin on one forearm. "Please." It's less pleading, more a request nicely put. "If you're gonna keep bugging me, should we at least go somewhere we can actually talk?" Jadzia glances toward the cavern that leads to the bowl before looking down at V'ros. She's apparently not going to wait for an answer, though, because she's already getting up, stuffing her feet into boots and grabbing her jacket to head that way. A pleased expression passes over V'ros's face, a bit of triumph, before he's following in his awkward, lanky sort of way. He doesn't bring anything but the pajamas he's been wearing this whole time. Chilly or not, he looks comfy, and plops happily into one of the old, worn out chairs in the outer cavern of the barracks. Expectant. Jadzia settles into a seat that's close enough to talk but not so close that V'ros' mere proximity is bound to get annoying. Hopefully. She draws her knees up against her chest, under her jacket, so she can wrap her arms around them and look over at the other weyrling while she considers how to answer. "He's stubborn and loud and pushy. He doesn't know when to stop. He doesn't like to listen. He makes shit up that doesn't make any sense. He thinks he's the greatest thing ever. But... he is great. And he likes me, you know?" That should count for something. Something that Jadzia probably wouldn't have let herself say if she weren't so weary. V'ros is kind of sprawled out in his chair, a man at his leisure. "Him, too? Zmeyth is like that, stubborn and pushy, but.. he's intense and scary sometimes." He frowns, mouth twisted up to the side, and flicks a quick look towards Jadzia. "Are you.. adjusting? We haven't really.. had time to talk, with, everything.. going on." He passes a hand over his recently-shaven head, blowing out a pent-up breath. Jadzia's hair is still quite intact, though it's always pulled back into a braid during training. It's loose now, though, when many girls with long hair have theirs braided for sleeping. "Sav isn't scary. Unless he starts getting it into his head to do things that might hurt him. Intense, though..." He's definitely that. "It's not like we really talked anyway, is it?" says the blonde with a sigh. "Well enough." That's not entirely convincing. "No," V'ros admits, "We never were.. friends.. but, shouldn't we try, now? We 'live' together. Our dragons are brothers. We may even be.. uh, wingmates, one day." He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck; where one moment he was happy enough to listen, he looks unnerved in the next. "Friends might be too strong a word. We could.. talk, though.. from time to time." "Look, I'm sure you're not as big of a shit as everyone says you are." Jadzia says that like people are totally saying things like that. "But we all have our own things going on and I trust you enough not to fuck me over somehow." What more could a girl ask for? She starts to unfold herself out from under her jacket and leans forward to put her feet back on the ground. "You should try to get some sleep, V'ros." "Yeah," V'ros says at last, nodding his agreement, because what else is there to say? They're not fit to be friends and don't quite hate each other enough to be enemies; they're in that gray area. He shrugs and pushes up from the chair, reaching his arms up to stretch and yawn. "Ok, you too. Try not to.. kill yourself.. tomorrow, I hear they're going to be doubling our weights." Shuffling back to his cot, where Zmeyth is awake, alert, he flops down, staring at the ceiling. At least he can say he tried. |
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