Logs:Unwittingly Catty
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| RL Date: 26 May, 2012 |
| Who: Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Can someone be an accidental bitch? Azaylia can! Especially when she's sleepy. Oops. |
| Where: Candidate Quarters, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 11, Turn 28 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Braeden/Mentions, Devaki/Mentions, Issedi/Mentions |
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| Exhaustion. Not the usual weariness that followed a hard day's work, the sore weight that lingered in muscles and bones for days after. No, this was an emotional fatigue that Azaylia simply wasn't used to. Eyelids drooped heavily, arms barely able to grasp the rider's waist as she was taken back to the Weyr with the same blue she had arrived on. She was even too tired to feel any fear as the dragon climbed higher into the sky, wind whipping her hair and dress into a flapping frenzy. Both day and night of the celebration had been filled with their share of events. It was much to worry about now, while peeling off her boots and wriggling out of her dress. She'd concern herself with what she saw and heard in the morning. Now, all she wanted to do was slip into her nightgown and sleep. It seemed that the other candidates weren't ready to settle down just yet. "Did you see the Exile Lord? Lady Issedi is so lucky." "Lucky? Being betrothed to a savage with nothing to his name but a sandy rock. You consider that lucky?" Azaylia lifted the covers of her cot, slipping in without looking up at any of them. She recognized a few voices, but there was nothing to be done. People would believe what they would. "Ugh, enough about Lady Is-afraid-of-her-own-shadow. What about Lord Braeden?" The collective sigh from behind her had Azaylia's brows furrowing ever so slightly. Then again, before that morning with Beep she'd have been sighing along with them. Dreamily, no doubt. Instead, she remained on her side, back to the gaggle of girls who still had enough energy to prattle on like they were. "Isn't he just so...?" There were no words. "Oh yes. I actually managed to get a dance with him!" Shrieks of jealousy, and then demands for details. "And he isn't even set to be married. Wouldn't it be wonderful, to be suddenly whisked away to become Lord Braeden's wife?" "Shells, I'd settle for being his Mistress." More shrieks, this time of scandalous delight. Azaylia's lips moved without thought, brows pinched together. "You shouldn't bother." Quiet words didn't convey the annoyance she was feeling. After such a long day that seemingly never-ending patience had... well, ended. Silence. A sharp, nasally reply, "Oh? And why's that?" She simply lay there, not daring to roll over and face them. With wide eyes and thinned lips, the exhausted candidate knew she had said too much. Her hands gathered up the sheet, pulling it tighter around her frame as she desperately grasped for a reason. Azaylia winced, struggling to get the words out. "W-well. L-look at all the gorgeous women he was dancing with tonight. U-uhm. I don't think it'd be smart, trying to compete w-with them..?" The uproar that followed had her shrinking further into herself. How dare she say that they aren't good looking enough! That Lord Braedon was shallow and wouldn't be able to see past such things as physical beauty! Did she think she was better than they, just because she wasn't cooing over him? But in their outrage, they had begun to quiet, hushing their voices in order to get away with saying more heinous things. She wasn't happy with upsetting them, but there was a subtle sense of pride at keeping the Lord's secret safe. Azaylia gave a soft sigh, body relaxing as the hissed whispers of the other girls faded away and she managed to slip into a blissful sleep. She'd deal with it in the morning. |
Comments
Devaki (Devaki) left a comment on Sun, 27 May 2012 00:21:59 GMT.
Such a great vig! <3
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