Logs:Springtime at Weavercraft
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 16 March, 2014 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani tries on clothes. N'rov lounges. They discuss goldriders, past and recent. |
| Where: Weavercraft, Southern Boll |
| When: Late month 3, Turn 34 |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions, Elise/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, K'del/Mentions |
  |
| Springtime at the Weavercraft is certainly nicer than either High Reaches or Fort, probably what would be considered summer up in the mountains, so that's likely a good excuse for N'rov to be on this trip with Aishani while she tries on things that weavers throw at her with effusive compliments. She's meant to be fitted for a dress besides, but that hasn't made an appearance yet - it's 'just this one thing first'. For half an hour plus. For the moment, the pair she's working with - a journeyman and apprentice - are off looking for more clothes, or maybe, finally, the actual purpose of the visit. Shani's behind a screen, asking as she changes, "Do I have too many things with stripes? Is that possible?" "Only if you wear them all at the same time," N'rov calls over from where he's lounging, not a care in the world, even a still-cool glass placed by his right hand for when he can be bothered to drink. "Three striped skirts, that would be fine, but layering four is pushing it." Shani isn't wearing three striped skirts when she emerges, but a short, tight black leather one with a black and white striped shirt, that might, to N'rov, quite possibly look identical to two other shirts she has. Not to her, not by the way she's looking at herself critically in the mirror, going on her toes in bare feet to pretend she's wearing shoes. "It needs a necklace," she declares, gesturing across her throat, coming down on her heels. Looking his way, "I don't know. You're all right?" He looks just fine, but... there's been a lot of clothes. "Hanging in there," N'rov agrees comfortably, nothing like the old cartoon of an upside-down firelizard clinging to something-or-other like it had forgotten how to let go. "Is that your shirt or their shirt?" he actually does ask, and if the trying-on has given him more than one opportunity to check out her legs, he doesn't miss out on this one either. Which doesn't mean that, afterward, he doesn't tilt his head back to survey the ceiling and yawn. "Maybe they aren't actually done with your dress. Maybe they're scurrying around behind the scenes to finish. Or maybe they're just keeping it back so you'll check out more things." 'They' might be able to hear. Which may or may not be why he adds, "Smart strategy, I figure." Giving him a bemused look - he can't tell? - Shani says, "Theirs. The neck is completely different." Like, obviously. The checking-out makes her quirk a faint smile, though - and if they're gone finishing up or finding more things to buy, she'll come by where N'rov is lounging so he's got a better view. Bending down for a quick kiss, "They are all sort of perfectionists. And I'm picky about things." Shocking. "I wouldn't be surprised if there's some last minute checking, but I don't know if there's anything else I want to look at. This season is all terribly similar." If anyone's around to hear, she's not quiet about her critiques. So obviously, and yet, sometimes he misses it. N'rov doesn't miss Shani's approach, though, straightening to grin at her right before kissing her back. As long as she's in range, one hand steals around the back of her knee. "Similar to itself? Or other, ah, seasons? ...Let me get a better look at that neck. It's hard to tell from this distance." He's generally behaved for the most part, so far, but it has been a lot of clothes. While he's at it, deadpan, "If you got that skirt, you could share with your Jo." It likely wouldn't be the first time that a weaver found Shani in N'rov's lap, though given the apprentice, perhaps, she does try to sit there with some decorum. Helpfully tossing curls back over her shoulders, "Similar to itself. It all seems about the same, and I do like black and white, but that means I have a lot of it." She has a lot of every other color too, but that's not the point right now. Though Jo's name brings an arch of fine brows. Dryly, "I don't think she wears skirts. We've both been busy lately. Have you seen her?" "Doesn't she? I suppose it would be longer on her." Is that a problem? N'rov's amused glance inquires. He shifts slightly, making her repose more comfortable. "Come to think of it, I suppose we're about due to skulk around with some hard liquor and talk about you. Maybe I'd better look her up. Tell her to keep more of an eye on you... not that I've heard that what happened to that Southern weyrwoman was anything but an accident." For all that he says it conversationally, there's an undertone that would speak of more seriousness even if his arm hadn't tightened about her waist, and it's no secret that the death had hit many Fortians who'd known her (though N'rov isn't one) hard. "I haven't seen one on her yet." Which really doesn't prove anything, but Shani's still skeptical. She's about to slide arms around N'rov's neck, but the idea of talking about her has her hands stalling at his shoulders. "Talk about me? Why?" To her credit, she's only faintly wary. "And she keeps an eye on me when I need it. Most of my time has been spent with my family lately anyway. You've seen most of my cousins." The ones who have done more time than Jo has, even. Not that he's heard but... eyes narrowing, "Do you think any differently? Or it is just..." The idea. "I've a mind to go looking around down there. It's not as if I haven't visited before and the Weyrwoman isn't..." Quieter. "Getting much younger, really. Iesaryth should be due sooner than later." Hopefully. "Just a thought. No one wants me at home." The conversation isn't so dour that N'rov can't smirk at his girl; "Who else would we talk about?" So very many possibilities. "Who would be as entertaining to talk about... or to tell her that we were?" That might narrow it down considerably. He skips over the cousins for now; though the apprentice isn't hovering over them at the moment, he doesn't engage in anything that the boy shouldn't see, just what he shouldn't hear. His voice is quieter now, too. "I don't think differently, no. It just seems like there's been a lot of accidents. So you'd like a place of your own, then, after all?" Or rather, like one enough to make it happen. This time, he doesn't spend time suggesting that maybe there are people who do want her; that they could be convinced to want her. It wouldn't be anything new. Softly, "It's not nice to make me paranoid." Though Aishani's already forgiven N'rov, it seems, by her own quirk of lips, they way her fingers find their way up his neck and into his hair, no matter how short it might be. She has to concede, "There have been a lot of accidents. And not-accidents. I'll be careful. And I'll have to meet the new ones, I suppose, Fortian or no. We ought to maintain... we should have each other's backs." There's a moment where she looks at him, uncertain, before going with the truth. "I think I want to do things my way. So I suppose so." Not that she doesn't mostly do what she wants anyway. But. Not-Nice N'rov leans his head back against her hand for a moment, though yes, his freshly-cut hair is very short indeed. "Of course you want to do things your way," he says, dry. "Let me know how it goes. With all of that. I don't know about them getting anywhere near your back, though, not for a while; do you want to visit them soon?" Shani isn't bothered enough by the haircut to stop what she's doing, though she does manage to sound affronted at N'rov's 'of course'. "What's that supposed to mean? And I will, though I'm not going to expect much. I don't know that any Weyr would be jumping at the chance to have someone around capable of being someone else for turns. I'd call that resourceful." She considers him, the question. "Possibly. Not too soon. It's hard enough staying awake and keeping your wits about you at first." It didn't stop her from entertaining his visits, but never mind that. "Just what you think it does," N'rov says, ever-helpful. He can't be bothered to smirk, but there is a slow grin before he reaches over to take up his glass and drink, afterwards offering it to her. After a rueful nod for staying awake, "Back to jumping at chances: keep in mind, you've been such the well-behaved junior these past months. I'm sure you'd get a good recommendation. Aren't you about due for another spat with K'del, though? It seems like it's been a while." It would be easier for Aishani to seem annoyed with N'rov if that grin of his didn't soften her gaze and make her smile faintly in return. Taking the offered glass and a careful sip - she hasn't committed to buying anything she's wearing yet - she wrinkles her nose at him. "Back to nothing. It's just a matter of seeing opportunities. They don't come up all that often." She's obviously skeptical on the matter of recommendations, handing back the drink with a snort. "Exactly. As if he'd ever say anything nice. I just do what's necessary to be left alone." That smile of hers, faint or no, widens his; then, "No, not that kind." If she's handing his drink back, N'rov will just have to have his way with the rest of it. "You don't think he'd say something nice to get you to leave him alone?" She doesn't bother to ask for clarification - it mustn't be that important, or after he's finished with that drink, it seems more important to lean in and kiss him at length. At this point, it's the weavers that might be waiting. Oh well. With another little grimace and an eyeroll, "Don't you see that as something K'del would be too 'honorable' to do? 'I couldn't send her off with out warning them.'" Her imitation is melodramatic. This time, N'rov's grin at her is that much more wholly entertained, even after all that kissing. "When you put it that way... maybe, maybe so. It's been a while since the four of us sat around the eggs together, though, that new Turn's eve." And maybe things just might have gotten a little better, even if he does enjoy Aishani's imitations a little too much. "I think I heard someone clear his throat, though. I fear their preemptively filling the couch with pins for me to sit on next time you're over. Up you get," this with an encouraging pat of the skirt. Certainly, Aishani's tone doesn't quite have the same edge to it that it might have when she's said K'del name, or refused to, in the past. But there's little to nothing that could make her say anything nice about the Reachian Weyrleader either. She gives N'rov a pout, but is obliging in sliding up and out of his lap, trailing fingers over his cheek as she does. "They'll fit this dress and we can go," she promises, with a slow grin of her own. She doesn't have any plans. And indeed, as soon as she's back behind the screen and changing, the weavers bustle into the room with yet another gown for the goldrider, talking between themselves animatedly. Ahem, they weren't listening. |
Leave A Comment