Logs:Vastly Dissatisfying
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| RL Date: 9 March, 2013 |
| Who: Vienne, Xhaeon |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A candidate and a bluerider walk into the galleries... it's like a bad joke. The topic isn't quite a comedy, however. |
| Where: HRW Galleries |
| When: Day 11, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
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| It's cold outside, and though Xhaeon isn't one to normally complain about such things, something has chased him indoors. Thus one could find him, seated two or three up from the choice seats close by the rail, scanning the lumps of sand below with the oddest expression upon his face. His sketchbook, a battered thing of once-black leather now somewhat cracked around the spine and faded from turns of handling, is balanced on his knees, an unused new stick of charcoal wrapped in cloth sitting untouched on top of that. When Vienne comes in from the cold, she still has a hand on her head, as if maybe she thought her knit cap would blow away. She does look wind-tossed, her hair strewn and messed about her shoulders, her scarf caught on her shoulder at an odd angle and her face pinker on one side from where the mean winter air was smacking her. The stillness of the cavern is a stark contrast and she stands just inside for a moment to take a breath and recover from her battle. Then she moves onwards to find a seat, and about to pass by Xhaeon, is paused by that weird look on his face. "You okay?" she wonders, both brows up but one hitched a bit higher. It's a small but easy smile she wears, ready to stop or ready to keep on walking. Poor Vienne. Xhaeon glances up with a half-smile on his lips, wry for the question even before he really focuses on who it is. He remembers her - even sketches a bit of a salute on offhand reflex (better safe than sorry) - and shakes his head after as if to clear it. "I'm fine. Sorry," he tacks the apology on, "I started thinking about all the new beginnings down there." He gestures mutely with his chin to encompass the vast Sands below, and the two-dozen growing lives scattered about them. It would be a pretty weird comment to randomly say, but he's already clearing off his things - a bag, a half-wrapped sandwich, a skin of some kind of liquid - to one side in polite, silent invitation. If she /wants/ to join him, that is. At least Vienne's limp is hardly noticeable today! And her hair hides the yellowing of the bruise on her cheek, though only until her hands busy themselves with trying to get her hair back in order. She pulls the hat from her head, holding it in the pinch of her lesser fingers while she goes about combing the tangles into something more presentable. Her smile warms readily for Xhaeon's apology -- though whether she actually remembers him from the Snowasis may still be uncertain -- and when he gestures toward the sands, she rotates in place to regard all those new lives. "It's powerful, isn't it, when you stop to think about it. Are you scaring yourself?" There's a knowing little twist when she turns her smile on him again. She tucks her hat in her pocket and starts unbuttoning her jacket as she moves to take that seat he's tacitly offered. A sidled glance to Vienne, half-appraising and half-laconically amused. She may have something with that question. If Xhaeon notices her limp, he's too much of a gentleman to ask her about it; instead, he just returns her smile with that selfsame wry one, and fiddles about with his sketchbook instead, an unselfconscious gesture of occupying his hands. He opens to a half-finished outline of an egg with no background, half-covered in sand, and absently smudges at a bit of the shading. "I didn't really think the whole process through. I'm still not quite used to thinking of dragons as..." There's a hesitation here, almost a politic pause, as he searches for an acceptable explanation. "...the weyrfolk do. Holdbred just doesn't seem to think about them with as much..." another one! His conversation is never usually this stilting. "...subtle shading, I suppose. Depth." A quirk of a half-assed smile. "Sorry. You must think me an idiot." Balancing herself on the edge of the bench, Vienne's hands come to rest on her knees, arms straight in a prim posture that relaxes slowly as her eyes drift down to his sketchbook. It doesn't seem to bother her at all that he takes his time with his words, her patience is effortless and her attention meanwhile occupied by comparing his drawing of the egg to the reality in front of them. "I don't see any reason to think you're an idiot," she tells him in the end. "I think a lot of people don't really think it through. But the outcome is so unknowable, there's only so much that preparation can do." Her smile hitches, like she's sorry to impart that piece of weighty perspective. "But worrying about their... personalities?" It's her own distillation of what he means by subtle shading and depth. "I can't imagine wanting Oswinth to be any different - even when I'm irritated with him - though I admit that doesn't happen often and I've known other pairs with more problems." At least she's not candy-coating it. Considering that Xhaeon is one more for utilitarian drawings of architecture and structure, his drawing of the egg against the sand is fairly good -- obviously the dimensions of it are sound. The shading could come a bit further in making it seem more life-like, though, and his absentminded efforts seem to push it more towards a whole image rather than a half-finished sketch. "The uncertainty of it is vastly dissatisfying," he extends a part of her statement, eyes focused on the book before him. "Do you?" He glances up towards her at that very last. "Know, that is- dragonriders with a lot of..." He drifts. "Interpersonal issues with their lifemates?" He's openly curious about this. The way he phrases it, 'vastly dissatisfying', has Vienne chuckling silently, a laugh that is visible in the shake of her chest and the curve of her smile, only a shuttered exhale otherwise. She takes a quick scan of his profile, but largely just settles in to watch him work, still flicking an eye toward the sands now and then to see how accurately the sketch is coming along. "I know..." But no, that's now how she would like to answer him. "Well, think about the people you know, people who love each other in some way. There are best friends who finish each others sentences and rarely quarrel. There are passionate couples who fight all the time, but love the fighting. Old couples who know what the other will say and barely need to speak to one another. Siblings who drive each other crazy. And all of those people have their interpersonal issues. Everyone has issues. But dragons are... I don't want to say simpler, because I'm not sure that's right. But they are different, in their way." Her lips press together and she wrinkles her nose, aware that 'different' is not a helpful description. Xhaeon has a quick glance for that silent chuckle; something about that exhale attracts a quick eyeing. What? Maybe it was hot. He absorbs her explanations, his expression turning from that disgruntled crease to increasingly more and more... turned-inward, thoughtful. "So what are you and... Oswinth, did you say?" He has an ear for names, a quick assessment towards where her knot would be if she is indeed wearing one. "In the scope of things? A silent partnership? Loud fighting and throwing things?" His fingers still, his eyes resting with that curiosity still settled upon Vienne's face. "Oswinth, yes," Vienne confirms, her smile hitched up at one corner, the near corner, as she slips her glance sideways, pulled by the way he fixes her with his attention so quickly, then watching the subtle shift from disgruntled concern to pensive introspection. "Blue," she explains further, having caught the glance toward her shoulder that dons no knot. Her hands slip between her knees, palms rubbing together slowly. "A silent partnership, I guess. Friends. I suppose we... take care of each other. He's so special, so thoughtful and curious and wise, the way he looks at things -- I know it, even if no one else sees it. And so I guess... it makes me feel special too, that he would be with me." The shyness that takes hold of her smile only increases when she adds, "He says he feels the same." A sentiment of which she clearly does not feel quite worthy, given the little shake of her head. Though with her eyes averted downward, it's equally possible that she's just uncomfortable with sharing all these private things. A pair of detail-oriented observers sitting together: this could end horribly, or be the subtlest companionship ever. Xhaeon offers a tip of his chin inwards, a silent thanks to her explanation of lifemate's color. That thoughtfulness fades into a smile that's unconsciously parallel to the simple appeal of her explanation - charming and charmed alike. "Thank you," he states softly after a moment, thoughtful and smiling at the same time, caught up in internally turning the taste of that revealed pairbond over in his mind. "It sounds... invaluably precious. A treasure." A silence stretches, not unpleasant. "You must be one of the lucky ones," he quips after a moment, in blatant effort to bring a bit of levity. "I saw a brownrider yelling at his recalcitrant beast out there," he jerks a charcoal-smeared thumb over his shoulder, down the stairs to the bowl beyond. "He didn't look like he was getting anywhere." Grey eyes roam the viewing ledges, as if to see if the aforementioned pair is somewhere to be seen. She's still bashful, still reluctant to look directly at the unknown man with whom she's shared these personal details -- though there is a flick of a glance toward his charmingly charmed smile and it does press her own grin into something a bit stronger, even as she catches the edge of it between her teeth. An exhale implies Vienne is glad for a bit of levity, animation coming back to her tense little form in the shape of her hands rubbing idly about one knee. However, she does not seem to have a particular leaning toward topical thoughts today. "Maybe that's what he needs. Someone who will stand up to him, someone who won't be swayed by fits of passion or put off by his argumentative nature." She hazards a little smile in Xhaeon's direction. "I don't know if dragon and rider really are always suited to each other or if we just find ways to explain why we end up together. Some attempt to make sense of all of it." Xhaeon isn't one to enjoy putting a person in an awkward state, see, and he relaxes when Vienne appears to de-tense-ify. "Oh, you think? Every pairing is a... balance point?" A ying to a yang? His eyes narrow in thought, grey gaze landing on Vienne again. He nods along to her second comment, eyes drifting back down to his sketch. A line is moved a tad, a shading made lighter, a little cross-hatch to darken a shadow. "Isn't that what we do about all of life? Forget about dragons and riders - I still want to know why my uncle married my aunt!" His quick, irrascible grin is incorrigible, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Or why the sky has to be blue, and not orange." Except when it is. "Or why calico felines always seem to be female..." Is he rambling? "Not every," Vienne replies with another shake of her head, a laugh on her lips that doesn't quite materialize. "I've known pairs who were completely like-minded. The same brain in two bodies." No balance there. While he rambles about all the things that cannot quite be explained, she tests her knee, straightening and bending it, her snowboot swinging slowly in and out. "See? There's no one-way about it. Unknowable." She has another chuckle, a real one this time, complete with a bit of voice and the wry turn of her grin. "Do you feel better about it? Maybe?" Now that 'unknowable' might be sitting a little closer to 'thing you don't need to know'. "Yes," sounds a little surprised, but there it is, a revelation of sorts: "Yes, I rather do. Thank you..." and here Xhaeon pauses, not-quite-embarrassed, but something akin to it. Wry reservation. "...blue Oswinth's." He'll even swipe his hand against the side of his pants in an effort to remove most of the charcoal dust, offering it to her in that rather formal fashion he tends to embody when he's about craft business rather than personal: "I do believe I've met you before, but not properly. Xhaeon, Smith journeyman, candidate, poorly wishful would-be philosopher." He's surprised and she's pleased, perhaps a bit more so that he's finding himself feeling better when he didn't expect it. She misses his prompt, just smiling back at his not-quite-embarrassed expression without understanding it... until he addresses her the way he does. And then she laughs again, rolling her eyes at herself for forgetting. Her foot goes still and her hand is free to be offered to him, a little thing still faintly chilled from the walk outside. "Vienne," she supplies. "Bluerider, harper, pleased to be putting candidate minds at ease instead of terrifying them." As if the diminutive woman could terrify anyone. But he mentioned they've met before and now her eyes scrutinize his face more carefully. "You do look familiar." Though that she hasn't placed him yet might not be terribly flattering. Big warm hand versus small chilled hand; it's all good. Xhaeon isn't one of those big men who treat women like fragile glass, but neither is he given to crushing hands, either; his shake is a firm thing, not crippling or limp but somewhat medium. "Harper, is it? I should have known." His grin just increases for that, however, not off-put by the statement. "You may know my grandfather." That kind of statement typically says it all, doesn't it? He waves off the comment, however, with a rather lopsided-- is it a smirk? It's approaching one. "Well-met, Vienne. I promise to tell you if you start terrifying me." But maybe not promise to explain that they've seen one another before. "It was in passing." He's not going to willingly recall her to him peering down Z'ian's shirt to check for necessary original equipment... Vienne closes her eyes, smiling even as she shakes her head - it's not a refusal of any sort, but rather a kind of acceptance that... yes, people always say things like that when she tells them was a harper. At least, when she looks at him again, there's no sign of the suspicion that is so often found in moments like these. Her lips disappear as she pinches her smile between her teeth and then a beat later she opens her mouth to ask after that grandfather, only he waves it away before she can. "Well met, Xhaeon." After that, her eyes narrow a little. "Was it at Turnover?" All the costumes and masks and such, it would explain why she doesn't quite remember. "No, not quite." Xhaeon looks as if he's poised to say something to continue the line of thought, but he's interrupted by the tattoo of boots striking stairs in speedy staccato: a white-blonde head pops up, followed by enough torso to show journeyman cords and a Smithcraft knot. "Xhaeon!" the man barks, gesturing with an imperative gesture. The smith-candidate shakes his head wryly at the interruption, closes his sketchbook and rises to his feet. "It was a pleasure meeting you again, Vienne," is his deliberately unhurried exit-line; the white-blonde man can be heard to sigh in exasperation in the background. "Hopefully it won't be the last time. Thanks for the -- help." Another crooked smile before the engineer-smith is turning himself about to catch up with his craftmate. Loud arguing (in obvious good spirits) follow them down the stairs and into the chill out in the bowl. |
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