Logs:The Idiot's Guide to Being Remembered
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| RL Date: 29 August, 2015 |
| Who: Faryn, R'hin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After the Beastcraft's edict, it's of course time for R'hin to pester Faryn about her life and her intentions. |
| Where: Living Caverns, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 4, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Edyis/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, Hanson/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, T'mic/Mentions |
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>---< Living Cavern, High Reaches Weyr(#350RIJMas) >-------------------------<
Stalactites hang high above this enormous cavern like a jagged chandelier
or an inversion of the Spires themselves, but shadows cling to them
instead of light. Below lie great tables arranged in rows, each large
enough to serve a fighting wing, while in the nooks and alcoves around the
cavern's edge sit more sensibly-sized tables, from six- and eight-seaters
down to intimate spots for just a couple of diners. The only really open
space is around the kitchen entrance, smelling of food and rarely quiet,
and by the nearby serving tables with their long buffet of the day's
offerings.
Tapestries on the smooth walls -- some faded and others newly woven --
only slightly mute the sea of sound when a meal is in full swing, but they
add cheerfulness augmented by the glowlight from wall sconces and the
centerpieces of each table. Still, shadows always creep along the ceiling
and into the mouths of the exits -- the myriad small hallways at one end
of the cavern and, at the other, the twisting tunnel to the bowl near an
array of coathooks and and hatracks -- and late at night, when the glows
are allowed to dim, the chamber can seem very dark indeed.
This room is +watchable.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Faryn F 23 5'4" lean, long brown hair, brown eyes 0s
R'hin M 54 6'1 lean, sandy hair, pale blue eyes 15s
----------------------------------< Exits >---------------------------------
Inner Caverns Kitchen Bowl
>--------------------------< 4D 9M 38T I10, autumn afternoon It's hard to claim an alcove at lunch time - you have to be lucky, and quick, and then keep on that face that suggests you don't want company if you want to maintain your privacy. Faryn, somehow, has managed today; she's got one of the small nooks that seats two, with a satchel tossed in the opposing seat, the strap draped on top of the table for easy retrieval. The pouch is open, but empty; the contents, then, must be the grouping of letters she's sorting into three stacks while she makes slow work of a salad and half a sandwich. Of course, the problem with Imposing Face that it doesn't put off the determined, the stubborn, or those that live to be contrary. Case in point: R'hin walks right up to that sanctuary of hers, nudges that satchel off onto the floor, and slips into the now empty seat. "Ah! You saved one for me. It's like you can predict the future," the Savannah Wingleader says cheerfully, setting his plate and mug down, nosily leaning forward to inspect the letters on the table. "Let me guess -- writing to all those apprentices whom you've robbed of the chance at Search?" comes his facetious addition. Faryn's eyes flick up at the motion to her left, her head turns to take it in fully, and by then it's too late. He's here, and her day is going to be so much better for it. "Obviously, I can't, otherwise I would have eaten my lunch in - " a glance at the topmost letter as she draws them from his prying eyes, tucking them under her thigh for safety, "Nabol." Her sigh is, as it always is with him, theatrically long suffering until he rapidfires onwards. "Shards, R'hin. Here I thought you were going to be nice today; you seem so cheerful." There's an obvious smirking twist of lips from R'hin as she not-so-subtly tucks away the letters, though not before he gets a glance at the topmost. "To your secret lovers across the far flung reaches of Pern, then? I could help with the delivery, if you wanted. For a price." He's already taking a spoonful of whatever stew was on offer, pale eyes amused at her latter words. "Ah, now, there's your mistake. Assuming cheerfulness equates to niceness, especially for me. I'd have thought you'd have known better by now." "Not quite. Correspondence from the weyrwoman, probably boring politics and flowery, pretty phrases. Gag me." Faryn is still protective of them, and their privacy, her nose wrinkling up on one side at him. "Anyways, I can barely maintain one relationship here, I can't imagine how shitty I might be if I had to have them scattered to the winds." Faryn pokes at her salad, remembering to eat when he does, and chews up the greens with an unimpressed expression. "I hadn't given up on hoping, is all. One day, I wager, you'll come by with nothing but nice things to say, or so I keep thinking. I'll never learn. It's like you're my punishment for everything." "It's not as difficult as you think," R'hin says, humming a moment before breaking out into song, "A girl in every port, winsome smile that sees you caught," he's laughing, now, "That's how the seacrafter song goes, at any rate. Create a job that forces you to travel frequently enough," he spreads his hands, as if it's self-explanatory. He's already lost interest in the letters, chuckling under his breath: "Mmhm. Ever the optimist, Faryn-the-great-and-once-herder." He doesn't seem the least offended in being named Faryn's punishment; indeed, he seems pleased, if anything. "It is an obligation I take very, very seriously," he says, sober all of a sudden. A droll smile takes Faryn's face, her poke at her salad out of necessity and not any desire to finish it. "Until one of them wants to marry you, or something. I guess your benefit is that you're a dragonrider." She waves a hand like a bug is flying about her head, dismissing it just like that. "I tried optimism. Then I left the craft, pissed off Hanson, ruined the lives of a bunch of apprentices and now," a puff of breath, her bangs going up, "K'del wants me to think about ways to make this seem like it's all good. Everything's a-okay." She lifts an eyebrow. "You've been around a long time. Any suggestions?" R'hin gives a slight tip of head, perhaps in concession, while he eats. And then: "Not being a dragonrider doesn't obligate you to marry anymore than being one obligates you to weyrmate." He taps at the table a moment, visibly thinking at the latter question -- though his gaze is on her as he considers. "People forget," he says, simply. "If you want everything to seem a-okay, you write the history that way, spread the rumors that way, and if enough people talk about it, then it becomes a reality. Think about Aishani -- many people felt she betrayed the Weyr by concealing who she was, by trying to destroy it from within for revenge. And yet, now, she is remembered as someone who helped saved all those ships, all those people from drowning in that storm. A child born now would only ever hear the good of the once-weyrwoman of High Reaches, not the bad." "I know," is all the once-herder has for handfasting or weyrmating. "It's just people. Emotions. It's all very..." twitch, "complicated." And anyways, the last part needs more of Faryn's attention than what may or may not be the complexities of her relationship(s). "That doesn't do much for you when you're still around, now does it? Aishani will be remembered as someone who sacrificed herself, who - saved so many people. But she can't have known that was going to be the end of it, that would put her out on a high note instead of a lower register." What she means, is, "Not much good in being remembered well when you're not alive to be there for it." That twitch, not to mention the pause, seems to earn more interest from R'hin than her words, the bronzerider gazing at her in that intense way of his. Faryn's answer earns a twitch of lips from the Wingleader. "You once said you wanted to be great, Faryn. How do you think people get that way? It isn't always through hard work, opportunity, being at the right place at the right time. Many people aren't recognized as great in their own lifetime -- but sometimes," there's a twitch on his part, now, an exhalation of breath: "Some people would prefer just to be remembered, past their own lifetime. Lilah, for example." Faryn takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising with it as she leans forward, pushing her plate aside with an elbow and propping her chin in her hands. "And right now, I'm going to be, very briefly, remembered as the apprentice who got a bunch of other apprentices stuck in servitude to the Beastcraft. And they don't even know my name, in most cases. People in - in Telgar right now are stuck, even if they're not happy, with a decision they made when they were children." There the goalposts go, moving further out; not remembered, but remembered well. "K'del said to make Search seem like a benefit, but I thought it was already." "And a well-remembered legacy you shall leave behind. If you want, I can work to attach your name to such a historic event?" R'hin's brows twitch upwards, chuckling briefly. He takes a swallow from his mug, leaning back; his food only half finished. "The Weyr could offer to compensate the apprentices for their training, if they were really desperate," the Wingleader points out. "But they aren't. In a way, though, it forces the apprentices to really think about whether they want to give up a career for a long shot." He purses his lips, briefly. "Would it have changed your mind if that was the rule when you left?" "Somehow I get the feeling K'del and Irianke won't really get on board with that solution. And even so, nobody can make that decision when they're twelve. I was picking crafts based on my favorite color, for fuck's sake." Faryn doesn't adjust for his lean away, just flicks her eyes down to the table, watching his minute reactions just in case she spots something she doesn't like. Her own lips go into a flat, pale line at the question. "No. I'd be poor forever, in debt forever, but I'd be free to be poor how I wanted." "I doubt any Weyrleader would. It would set a terrible precedent. Then again, if you're looking to stock the Weyr with craft-able riders..." R'hin spreads his hands, brows flickering upwards. He glances sidelong, watching some of the lunch time's crowd move past, before his gaze comes back towards Faryn. "No?" He echoes her word with a slight upward inflection, as if surprised. "Which says to me you didn't really want it. It's the safe choice to stick with what you know, what you've been taught. If you wanted to leave badly enough that you'd risk the consequences, that says you're committed to the decision." Faryn sucks the back of her teeth in a tsk sound, directionless while she figures out her next words. "I agonized over that decision, from the moment Quinlys tried to Search me and I turned her down. Again when I walked off the sands alone, again with Ozwon. I figured," she reaches for her own drink, swirling it without drinking, "if I was considering and reconsidering and reconsidering again, having to talk myself into it harder than I was talking myself out of leaving, then I needed to -- what is it? Take the path of least resistance." She frowns. "I only regret it because if she was going to do that, she needed to punish me, not everyone else." And now, R'hin leans forward. "Don't you see?" He gestures towards her, "She is punishing you. And you are letting her." And Faryn leans back, crossing her arms. "I can't not care about people, R'hin. They'd be less complicated if I could. More the fool me." And R'hin, naturally, chuckles, as if to imply, just so. "So, in between taking on responsibility for the decision making of the entirety of the beastcraft's apprentices, you're writing Farideh's letters for her, trying to avoid getting hitched to poor, impressionable young holders, and fixing the many ills of the world. I'm surprised," with a flicker of fingers towards her salad, "You even have time to eat." "What happened to you that you can?" Faryn wants to know of the bronzerider, but it's almost like she doesn't expect him to answer because she carries on, almost blithe, "If I keep myself busy, maybe I'll be distracted enough to prevent overthinking it all, all over again. And I don't need much food. Too skinny, they say." A wave in the general direction of the kitchens. "Mm. That's a logical conclusion. Instead of running away from your problems, work hard so you never give it any thought." R'hin leans forward, two fingers extended with the intention of tapping at Faryn's forehead, "Problem is, your mind keeps ticking. You're thinking about it even when you're not. Dreaming about it?" he hazards. "All the world's burdens on such a skinny set of shoulders." He clucks his tongue. Faryn's face squinches up, eyes closing when he taps her forehead before she has the sense to draw back and shake her head briskly to rid herself of the sensation. "I haven't slept well for years. The girl I share a room with now snores and talks in her sleep. Double whammy." Which isn't an answer. "No time for dreaming if I'm expected to eat. Make your choice." R'hin's brows go up. "What does she talk about?" Like the nighttime mutterings of some unknown girl might be more interesting than the dilemma in front of him. With a sudden grin, he says, "Crash on the weyrwoman's couch. Fall asleep while helping her with hides. Do it often enough, I imagine she'd just get used to it. Boom -- new roommate." "Nonsense. Mostly incoherence. Just enough to make you think she has something important to say," Faryn indulges. Then, for that particular suggestion, a brisk shake of the head. "I think her boyfriend is here. He's alright, I guess, but if the last wall of privacy is me having to hear Farideh having sex, I'll sleep next to a sleep mutterer until he's gone again." "Ought to start telling her you've heard her muttering about the beastcraft. Seems a wasted opportunity not to use it to start a conversation." The lazy way R'hin suggests it might seem like it's a joking suggestion, and yet there's an air of advice about the way he phrases it. There's a brief chortle from the Savannah Wingleader. "Is he now? Well, that's a shame. Can't sleep in your own boy's weyr, mm?" he wonders aloud, curiously. Faryn gives him a bland look, perhaps trying to decipher the level of seriousness he's projecting, but ultimately the decision on it remains private. Instead, tightly, "We needed some space." His brows hook upward, in the universal request for further details. Faryn picks up her fork - the same exact item she used to threaten a bronzerider very recently - and spears a bunch of salad on it. "Faranth, you're nosier than an old auntie, aren't you?" R'hin's gaze follows that spearing, grin spreading in a completely unrepentant way. "I've been accused of worse," he says, mildly. "I can't help it if you're terribly fascinating, Faryn." Faryn rolls her eyes, so she's looking upward at him from beneath and through those straight bangs. "I've stopped trying to figure out when you're mocking me. It's probably best for my peace of mind." And lo a sigh, "We had a...tiff. I don't know if we're on the same page, and neither of us wants to talk about it. Like I said: complicated. Messy." The bronzerider's sage nod seems to agree with Faryn's assessment on her peace of mind. "Not complicated," R'hin says. "People fight all the time. Sad truth is, it's easier to fight with those you love. Easier to hurt each other." He takes another easy gulp from his mug. "He's a boy. He'll forget in a couple of weeks. Your problem is you'll remember long after he's forgotten, I'll wager." "I don't love him." Faryn's rebuttal is just this side of too-quick. "We're having fun - we have fun, when nobody overthinks things. Anyways," pointedly, "Edyis said I could stay on her couch if it really gets bad with my roommate, and I might have to take her up on it now. And when he forgets," not her, "we'll have fun again, until we tiff again, and so on until we get tired of that, too, probably." R'hin's, "Uh-huh," is in the same tone as one might say 'likely story', clearly humoring her. "Ought to see about making eyes at someone else. That'll speed up the process," he oh-so-helpfully suggests, as he drains the rest of his mug. Faryn concedes nothing in that humour. Instead, with a deadpan expression and very even, daresay humourless tone, "I'm reserving that for it stops being fun and I need to refill my flask with sad man tears." "Don't hold out too long, or the tears dry up," is R'hin's oh-so-sage advice. "Sure thing," Faryn says sweetly. "Maybe when that time comes, I'll just make all my eyes at you. You are the ideal." She shifts a minute, reaches halfway for her plate, and then adjusts to lean over and grab her displaced satchel instead, drawing it into her lap to put the letters in it, preparing for an obvious departure. And R'hin, for his part, snorts. "You could at least make it a tad more believable. Although," he rubs a hand over his chin, "I suppose I did steal you away from your family and packed you off to a secret location where only I could find you. A tale to tell your grandkids some day; how an old bronzerider tried to kidnap you away to meet your destiny." While she prepares to leave, he seems to take it as a prompt to return to his unfinished stew. Faryn laughs, finally, and with some attempt at earnestness, "You're the hottest old guy I know, how's that?" The letters get stuffed into her bag, and she slings it all over her shoulder as she stands. "Grandkids, ugh," is an undertone, and louder, "You did do that. Thanks for trying, at least. I'll just keep messing up all your well-laid plans, completely on accident. Later, R'hin." A noise that might be an expression of amusement follows her statement. "I'm not completely done yet, Faryn," R'hin replies, easily. He could be talking of his plans, just as easily has his food -- which he bends his head back to as she departs. |
Comments
Jo (19:14, 30 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
I LOVED this scene. There should be more Faryn and R'hin scenes in this world. And yes, R'hin is totally nosy, but Faryn should probably be used to nosy people by now. >.>
Jo (19:14, 30 August 2015 (PDT)) said...
Double posted comment!
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