[Log] Do You Want to Talk About It?
Who: Cayri, I'neph, J'tei
When: Day 7, Month 2, Turn 443
Where: Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
What: I'neph doesn't think there's anything to talk about, for once.
Nighthearth
Partially removed from the kitchen, the nighthearth is a small niche with a long, narrow tunnel leading to the inner Weyr. This is one of the coziest locations in the Weyr, and one of the few that doesn't seem hollow and abandoned. A large stone table, long enough to seat a half-dozen people on either side, sits immobile in the center of the area with wooden benches along it. A large fireplace always boasts a pot of klah, stew, and a basket of yesterday's bread. Three of the most comfortable chairs in the Weyr are here - deep, padded armchairs with horrid patterns to the upholstery but still greatly comfortable. Three wooden footstools accompany them, all arranged near the hearth.
This is the only place to catch a bite to eat at this hour. It's nighttime in the winter. The warmth of the room is welcome to most people.
Players:
I'neph.........6', athletic; olive skin, dark brown eyes & hair; early 20s.
Cayri..........5'6". 17 turns old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Skinny.
Exits:
Inner Caverns.................[SW] Kitchen.......................[N]
Cayri looks warm and drowsy. She's sunken into a chair drawn close to the hearth, her feet drawn on to the seat, everything up to her chin covered by an afghan. The remnants of a midnight snack linger on a tray next to her chair, but all she's doing right now is staring with into the fire and yawning now and then. Exciting, isn't it?
Shuffling into the cavern now is I'neph, looking as bored and disinterested as Cayri. The food is eyed only a moment before he discards that option and instead turns to flop down in a chair himself. When he notices Cayri just prior to this move, however, he frowns a moment and offers an unenthusiastic, "Oh. It's you." This, however, doesn't stop him from sprawling out in said chair then, gracelessly.
Cayri repeats with pointed boredom, "Oh. It's you." She pulls the afghan tighter around herself, like I'neph's very presence brings in extra chill. Watching him as lazily as she had been the fire a moment before, she adds, "You look tired." No sympathy, just commentary.
"I am tired," replies I'neph flatly, burrowing deeper in the chair since he doesn't have a blanket to curl up with. In turn, he observes, "You look... comfy." Pause. "What are you doing out here this time of night? Shouldn't M'vari be locking you nack up in the barracks by now?"
Cayri answers primly, "It's none of your business what I do, now is it?" She sniffs for emphasis, but really she's too tired to keep up the facade of being annoyed with I'neph. With a gloat, she adds, "I am comfy. It's warm under here." And she pokes a finger through a knitted hole in the afghan, wiggling it toward I'neph. "Why so tired, darlin'?"
"Maybe you should share," I'neph snipes, rolling his eyes. "And I'm tired because it's been a long day, duh. Stupid Dioscuth had me up before dawn when he decided suddenly that since stupid /J'tei/ has a weyr now, we better make sure /ours/ looks better." Grump. "Stupid dragon," he adds one more time, for emphasis.
Cayri yawns. "Maybe I should." She doesn't. Leaning her head to the side as if the very effort of sitting upright is too much to spare, she just lets it sag against the chair. "That's a lotta stupid for one diatribe. Why's it matter what J'tei has anyways? I'm happy for him. Now he can get laid." Yawn.
"I can, too," I'neph is quick to point out. "And it matters because Dioscuth has to win. It's all a big game for him, and he's playing for all the marbles. Hence why he bullies me around into helping him out. But our weyr /is/ going to be better, lemme tell you. It will be." He nods firmly, as though that makes it so.
Cayri says speculatively, "Oh yeah. It's alllll Dioscuth. Mhmmm. In that case, you should probably work on toning it down. There's really no point in you two competing."
I'neph lifts his shoulders vaguely. "Try explaining that to him. I've explained it, half the weyr's explained it--it does no good. S'just how he is. Only thing I can do is put up with it," he says heavily. "Doesn't Aydeth have her own quirks and stuff?"
"Or you could try to be a better influence. Which you have to admit you're not, being as you're always trying to one-up him." Cayri shrugs. Or presumably she shrugs, as the blanket shifts around where her shoulders should be. "Aydeth's just happy about everything all the time. It's sweet. She'd never compete like Dioscuth. Or, if she did, she'd be really happy about losing."
J'tei comes over from the kitchen.
J'tei has arrived.
I'neph rolls his eyes. "He's the one influencing /me/," he's quick to point out, more than a little defensively at that. He and Cayri are both burrowed into those big comfy chairs, the greenrider with a blanket. I'neph adds, "Besides, it's got to be better than not being motivated at all, right? Right?"
Cayri emphasises, "That's why I said that /you/ could try to be a better influence. But noooo." She reaches a hand out from under the blanket just to flick her fingers at I'neph, quick to draw her hand back under into the warmth after that. "I'm not sure it's better. Doesn't seem any healthier, that's for sure."
J'tei skulks in, aweary and dusty and wearing some cobwebs on his hair-- battle scars from a day digging in the store rooms. Given the time, he likely expected solitude and stops a good distance away when he hears voices. Eventually, figuring out who it is, he approaches toward the fireplace, specifically toward the klah pitcher, with a mellow, "Evenin'."
"Well, that's the choices," I'neph says flatly. "Either we're unmotivated or we're over-competitive. Guess I'm the easier one to influ--ence." The last syllable falls rather flat at J'tei's greeting; the only thing I'neph can be bothered to do is lift a hand slightly in recognition of his approval.
Cayri drawls, "Hey there, hero. You've got a little friend there." Demonstratively, she bats a hand at her hair, looking at the top of J'tei's head. After, she shoots a short look toward I'neph before adding to his comments, "Sad as it is, I believe that. About you being the easier one to influence. Than your dragon. Wonder what that says about you. Hohum."
"Ah, so I have." J'tei rubs the side/top of his head, pulling at the spiderwebs he can feel and removing about two-thirds of the mess. "Thanks. M'I interrupting here? You two're looking very cozy," he remarks after pouring out a mug and turning to face the pair of chairs and the pair of weyrlings in them.
"She won't share the blanket," I'neph complains, focusing on J'tei rather than responding to Cayri's words. "Where've you been, off having a roll around in the stores? Who with?" he assumes.
It is midnight in the late winter. Soft, light snowflakes swirl aimlessly on light breezes. Timor is a first quarter moon, and Belior is a waxing gibbous moon, both hidden behind the clouds. The temperature is about 28F, -2C.
Cayri defends herself, saying, "I would've shared, but all you said was that I /should/, not that you wanted me to." She hrmphs over the semantics and beckons to J'tei with one hand, gesturing to his hair in that imperious way that girls who think they're cute often pull.
J'tei yields to the imperiousness in that subservient way that boys who think girls are cute often pull. "You could get your own blanket?" he suggests helpfully, halfway leaning and halfway crouching to try and make the mess in his hair accessible to Cayri's hand in the chair. Being tall doesn't help this, so he just looks awkward. "I was getting some furniture, what there is of it. By myself. S'all just stuff no one else wanted, but it's better'n nothing, I reckon."
"Do you /see/ one in arm's reach?" I'neph says, gesturing vaguely around--apparently, that's the length of his energy tonight. He snorts, eyeing the pair with a frown. "Now see, if you actually knew something practical, like /repairing/ furniture, you might fare a little better. Oh, well."
Cayri picks the extra webbing out of J'tei's hair, having quite a lot of fun about it. Once she's done, she gives his hair a good finger-combing, then nods to dismiss him. "I don't know." She pauses thoughtfully, drawing back under her blankets and turning pretty, big eyes on I'neph. "I'd say knowing how to go *between*'s pretty practical." Her smile is questioning and baiting together.
J'tei nods gratefully to Cayri, trying to further flatten his hair. "Well, you should start bringing one with you, prob'ly," he decides, only turning a bit redder than normal when the greenrider goes and brings up *between*. "On that note, I think I'm gonna hit the hay. Always good to see ya, I'neph, Cayri." He ducks hastily back out of the room.
J'tei heads into the kitchen.
J'tei has left.
"I'm going, too," I'neph announces, right on the heels of J'tei. "After today, I've earned some sleep. Night." He's already standing, only pausing a moment to glance back at Cayri.
Cayri says in high disappointment, "Awww. I didn't mean to run you off." She's not bouncing to keep him around though. "Nighty."
"It's not you, it's me," I'neph drawls as he exit.
Cayri calls after I'neph more energy than she's cared to show so far, "Wanna talk about it?" Not mean and baiting, either!
That stops I'neph, the bronze weyrling rolling his eyes before he turns back. "What's there to talk about?" is his rejoinder.
Cayri answers, "I don't know. You could talk about it, and then I'd know, and then I could tell you." When she's not being saccharine, her smile can come across quite warmly, so she sends one of those to poor I'neph now. "Ooorr you could talk about it just because sometimes it's good for you. I talk all the time, and I'm always happy, so I should know."
"Yeah, except when you're griping all, 'woe is me, I'm a girl and everybody's mean to me,'" retorts I'neph, mocking Cayri's voice and rolling his eyes again, this time so she can see. Still, he shuffles back to the chair, flopping unceremoniously back down. "There's nothing to talk about. Can't talk about nothing," he notes. "Why don't /you/ talk if it's so helpful?"
Cayri says, "/I'm/ not the one who said 'it's me.'" It's so easy to fall back into the argumentative tone; she takes a quick breath and continues more calmly, "I'm irritated about being put off by myself. I like being part of a group, so I'm annoyed that I'm getting stuck all alone again." She shrugs limply. "I shared. Now you share."
Grudgingly, I'neph sighs. "I'm lazy, obnoxious, and my dragon is pushy. Are we happy now?" he asks blandly. "Because I really don't care about hearing your problems any more than you do mine, especially when I can be in my nice, private weyr--have I told you about that yet?"
Confusedly, Cayri asks, "I thought you were cocky too?" As though cocky were the furthest thing from an insult. "Yes, you've mentioned it. Many times."
"It bears repeating," says I'neph, frowning. Saccharinely helpful, he agrees, "Yeah, yeah. I'm cocky, too. Anything else you want to add in there? I'm sure you know some good ones, right?"
Cayri mumbles, "Apparently, 'in a bad mood' needs to be put on that list. Wow." She chews on her thumbnail absently, sticking the digit through the same hole in the afghan weave. "You're cute? That's important!" Authentic.
I'neph snorts. "Right. Okay, 'gullible'? So not on the list," he tells the girl flatly.
"Neither's 'self-deprecating.' What the hell?" Cayri asks, totally confused.
"I don't believe you," I'neph explains flatly. "So don't waste your adorable act with me. I'm a little smarter than J'tei here--give me /some/ credit."
Cayri asks, "You don't believe me that you're cute? I'neph, you're the one who /told/ me that." Dot dot dot. "Well, and you are, but you did tell it to me. Not as many times as you told me about your /fabulous/ new weyr, but at least a couple times."
"What /are/ you playing at, girl?" I'neph demands after a moment in exasperation. "I say lots of things and nobody believes me, so why should that be different?" Probably because he lies about most things. "I don't get you at all," he concludes.
"First off, don't call me 'girl' like you're M'vari or something." Cayri is still young enough to take offense to something that innocuous. "Secondly, you /are/ cute, which I could've determined on my own even if you hadn't told me. But what's to get? You seem like you're going through something, so I'm trying to be like supportive."
"There, there, /there's/ your problem," decides I'neph, nodding smugly at last. "I'm not giong through anything, and if I was, I wouldn't need the support of some /girl/. Because you /are/ a girl, because I'm, like, ten turns older than you, so there." Of course, he acts a good ten turns younger about half the time, but. Grudgingly: "You really think I'm cute?"
Cayri says emphatically, "Like /seven/, not ten. And girls mature faster than boys, so it's probably only like one mentally." /So there!/ "You don't need my support, just a little of my time to stroke your ego?" she asks with a partially contained grin. "Yes, I really think you're cute. Cute/r/ when you're not being all dumpy and fishing for compliments, but whatever."
It is late night in the late winter. Soft, light snowflakes swirl aimlessly on light breezes. Timor is a first quarter moon, and Belior is a waxing gibbous moon, both hidden behind the clouds. The temperature is about 27F, -3C.
I'neph rolls his eyes, but at least seems moderately appearsed by Cayri's answer. He even manages a milder, "Thanks. I think. Whatever. You're... fifteen? Sixteen? You're like one of my little sisters or something, in that case. They're about as nice to me most of the time, too."
"A wizened seventeen, little man. Seen more and done more in my seventeen than you have in your twenty-four." And Cayri's not afraid to be saucy about it. "Please, I'm never anything /but/ nice to you. You're the one always picking fights, when here I am offering to be all supportive and friendly."
"Now you are," points out I'neph. "The rest of the time it's all stuff about how great J'tei is and why can't I be more like him, he's the good weyrling, everybody loooves him. I'm doing fine on my own--don't need your support, anyway." And again, he moves to stand, ready to run off again.
Cayri says hastily, "Ohmygosh, only because you get all weird about it, and it's funny to me." Contradicts her assertion that she's just the bestest friend ever, huh? "I don't actually think you oughta be like J'tei. He's nice and all, but he's gonna explode someday trying to be everything to everybody. I /had thought/ you weren't gonna pop your cork any time soon."
"Good friend, you are," drawls I'neph, smirking. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm not him, don't want to be. It's fine, whatever. Nothing's the matter--I don't even have a cork to pop." Riiight. As though he hadn't just proved that's a rather sensitive subject. "Good night," he says, edging a single step away as he waffles over departing.
Cayri mutters, "Like you don't pick at sore subjects for me? Please." She sends I'neph off with a sulky look, slackening back to her original posture of near-dozing with the blanket drawn all the way up to her chin, the better to sulk.
"Oh, like what?" I'neph persists, throwing his hands back up as he fails again to extract himself from the conversation. Again, noisily and gracelessly, he flops back in the chair. "So what's /your/ problem?"
Cayri needs far less goading than I'neph, that's for sure. "You're so frustrating, you don't even know. I like put myself out there to /try/ and make nice, and all you do is get snotty and leave like you're so above me. It's so totally messed up."
"I try," I'neph says sulkily. "I try a lot. You don't even know. I am not being snotty, I'm tired and I want to go to bed but all you want to do is analyze me like some kind of mindhealer or something. And you think I'm frustrating. Me, the nice guy who's been looking out for you this whole time, who was the first friend you ever had here--all that stuff. Ingratitude, that's what it is."
"Then go to bed. Shells, all's I said is 'do you wanna talk about it.'" Cayri sounds like she regrets even saying that much! "You didn't look out for me. You just told M'vari you would so he'd still think the sun shined brighter on you. And all the more friend you've been was to go blabbing to Soriane that I told you a secret. There's your ingratitude." /She/ gets up this time like /she's/ leaving.
"I told her it wasn't your fault!" protests I'neph quickly. "Can't fault me there. Wasn't going to tell her, but then she goes all teary on me and I hate that. Mom does it, my sisters do it, every sharding girl I've ever known does it. I hate it. I still don't think there's anything to talk about, because everything's fine, so I don't know what you're going on about with that." Despite the snappiness of his earlier words, for the moment he manages a more civil, and more genuinely, earnestly confused tone.
Cayri points out, "Yeah, and I could've thrown you to the wolves and told J'tei it /was/ all your fault. But I didn't, so I guess that's the difference between me and you." Wrapping herself in her afghan shroud, she answers, "I don't know what I'm going on about either, but I'm done going on about it. It's late, and /some/ of us still have dragons to feed in the morning. Good night." A bit briskly.
"You... didn't?" The surprise in I'neph's voice is definitely genuine now, brows knitting as he stares at the rising Cayri.
Cayri answers crossly, "Of course I didn't, and thanks for the vote of confidence." Someone is going to have to take the impetus and actually /leave/ sooner or later, right?
"Well, I didn't know," I'neph declares, defensive again. "There you go again, going off on me for no reason at all. How am I supposed to know what happens between the two of you when nobody ever actually talks to me about anything these days? All I do is work."
"Much as I think /someone/ oughta explain to you why it's offensive that you'd assume that I sold you out like that." Cayri actually walks away. "I'm too tired to care any more. Get some sleep, you'll need it for carrying around that chip on your shoulder."
"Night," answers I'neph grumpily, burrowing deeper into the chair rather than departing, no matter how much he's complained about his exhaustion.