[Log] I Like Ya
Who: Cayri, I'neph
When: Day 10, Month 2, Turn 443
Where: Lakeshore, Fort Weyr
What: I'neph and Cayri talk at the lake.
Lake
The more habitable and friendly-looking end of the bowl, near the lake is where one finds the greenery of the Weyr. The lake itself takes up about a quarter of the bowl floor, making it about a quarter-mile long and quarter-mile wide, though irregularly shaped. The water is sweet and clear, kept clean by algae and the like. A fence at the western edge pens in the feeding grounds, which boast a trodden ground of grass and even a pair of large trees. Just northwest of the lake are the weyrling barracks, and just south is a small herb garden used by the kitchens. Near the garden is a wide, gradually sloping tunnel that leads through the walls of the bowl to eventually exit the Weyr - a path traditionally used by tithe trains.
The lake is nearly deserted in the darkness. A layer of snow and slush clings to the ground throughout the winter, but the lake itself remains untouched by the ice.
Players:
I'neph.........6', athletic; olive skin, dark brown eyes & hair; early 20s.
Cayri..........5'6". 17 turns old. Black hair. Brown eyes. Skinny.
Dragons:
Reith..........Brown dragon, 17 feet long, 11 turns old.
Rielth.........Gold dragon, 16.6 feet long, 8 months old.
Rismoreth......Blue dragon, 8.97 feet long, 8 months old.
Exits:
Bowl..........................[NE] Entrance Cavern...............[S]
Feeding Grounds...............[W] Herb Garden...................[SW]
Weyrling Barracks.............[NW]
It's actually not snowing! Cayri makes the most of it, staying out of the barracks way after curfew, sitting on a towel folded on top of a rock she's scraped the snow away from. It looks quiet, peaceful even, except for the cold.
I'neph's expression is anything but peaceful as he exits the living cavern and starts stalking across the bowl. Dioscuth is there already, demonstrating how much longer his wingspan is than one of the grown blues out there; but when his rider passes by, he breaks off to croon and turns to eye I'neph's passage. I'neph doesn't even slow when he passes his dragon, earning a somewhat worried yellow tinge to Dioscuth's eyes. The rider's eventual destination is the lakeshore, where he slows down and glances out over the still water. When he sees Cayri, however, I'neph hesitates, turning as though to head in the opposite direction. In the end, he only sighs and turns to trudge toward her. "It's after curfew," serves as a greeting as he flops unceremoniously to a seat in the snow beside her rock.
Cayri gasps sharply, her breath showing in the cold, a puff of white against the utter blackness of a cloudy winter night. "I didn't think you noticed people that weren't yourself." She gives him a half-slanted and accusatory look that won't hold form no matter how much oomph she puts behind it. "What are you doing out here?" With a lean onto her hand, she eyes Dioscuth doubtfully, a look she goes on to share with his rider.
"Sitting, what's it look like?" I'neph drawls, rolling his eyes as he scoots back to lean right up against the side of that rock. He tilts his head up to observe her, asking, "What about you? Seems like I've got more right to be out here than you do, considering nobody's waiting for me back at my weyr." Pause. Realizing how that sounds: "Just because I don't want anyone back there. Because... Oh, nevermind," he gives up with a wave of a hand.
It is midnight in the late winter. Soft, light snowflakes swirl aimlessly on light breezes. Timor is a waxing gibbous moon, and Belior is a waning gibbous moon, both hidden behind the clouds. The temperature is about 28F, -2C.
"Sitting, what's it look like?" Cayri scoots on her butt. "But I had the foresight to bring something to sit on." She looks down at I'neph with a side quirk of her mouth, trying her best not to look amused at his hasty addendums. "Nobody's waiting for me back at my cot either, so how is it that you have more right? 'Cause it sounds like you have more self-pity." With levity.
I'neph tugs on his coat further, pulling it tighter at her former words. "Yeah, well. Wasn't planning on being out here," is his answer. "I meant, other weyrlings. M'vari. Whatever. Bet /he's/ missing you by now." His levity is meant to match hers, though it falls a little sort. "Nothing wrong with a little well-earned self-pity, anyway. I've put up with all of yours."
Cayri asks, "When have I ever made you put up with my self-pity?" Wearing a scarf, sitting on a dry towel, gloved and jacketed, she actually looks sympathetic to I'neph and the gathering chill. "Well thanks for stopping to sit a spell. Much as I enjoy the solitude, I enjoy the company too. Here." She holds the long scarf out, dangling the ends in front of I'neph's face.
"I'm fine," I'neph says as he reaches for the scart, leaning forward long enough to wrap it around his neck tightly, half over his mouth until he realizes he can't talk then. He pushes it down and tucks his hands around it to keep them warm as well. From that position, he looks marginally more comfortable as he notes, "Don't know how you stand it. The solitude. I hate it."
"Then why." Cayri turns up the collar of her coat without her scarf, really looking none the worse for the lack of wear. "Are you living in voluntary solitude?" Noting the placement of the hands, she adds, "I'm not giving you my gloves. You'd stretch them all out, and I'm partial to them." To make sure they stay safe, she fists her hands and clamps them between her knees for extra security.
"Girls here are crazy," I'neph repeats his old complaint, waving a hand airily. "I'm fine, "he adds after a moment, retucking his hand in. Then, vaguely: "You like them, they hate you, and about the time you figure out you don't /love/ them after all, they decide they love you, and they won't leave off after that. Vicious cycle. Vicious."
Cayri says with a perfect smile, "I'm not crazy. Er, I'm not from here. I forget which one that I was going for there." She has to laugh a little at the complaint though, enjoying the play of a foggy breath she exhales toward the lake. "Where'd the girl problems come from all of the sudden? You and Breide not on?"
"Not in a while," admits I'neph. "Doesn't matter, though. S'not important. You are too crazy, by the way. I figured that out a long time ago." He manages a small smirk as he tilts his head back to look up at Cayri on her rock. "Maybe it's just a girl thing, not a Weyr thing. Should've been a greenrider."
Cayri seems genuine. "That's too bad. Could be good for both of you." A little leftover venom for the two selfish ones? "Or a bluerider! I heard they swing either direction too. It would be a tragedy for all of us girls if you started going for boys though. I know I'd cry myself to sleep for weeks and weeks."
"Half the Weyr would," I'neph agrees easily. "Can't see myself doing it, personally, even if it weren't for Dioscuth. Girls are trouble, but you gotta love 'em. Just... not understand them. Ah, well. Doesn't matter, anyway. Can't change it, anyway, so why worry?" He shrugs, rubbing his hands together idly before retangling them in the ends of the scarf. "Look, about... today," he starts after a second of silence.
Cayri holds her hand flat toward I'neph, the gloved fingers in a blunt refusal to let him continue talking. "Unless the next words out of your mouth are 'I was being a jerk and I'm sorry,' let's just not go there."
"Yeah," agrees I'neph. "Let's not." He falls again silent then, just idly rubbing at his hands and watching his own breath congeal in the air.
Whimsically, Cayri says, "I wish it would clear up. I really think it's snowed or almost snowed every day since I got here. And I was born at /High Reaches/ Weyr, so you'd think I would be prepared for snow." A deep breath later, she continues, "I'm sorry if I was being a judgemental bitch today."
I'neph nods slowly, eyes cutting toward the sky at Cayri's words. "Yeah, it's been a long winter, seems like. I'm ready for summer again," the man agrees in a lackluster tone. And: "Forget about it. It doesn't matter," he brushes off her apology.
Cayri says, "It matters to me, so now would be a good time to say that you're not mad at me. Because I can nag. Oh, can I ever nag." Since it's her scarf, she takes the liberty of putting the end of it to a more stylish drape, laying the fringe neatly down the front. "I should've left you and Breide alone, so I'm sorry."
"I'm not mad at you," I'neph repeats long-sufferingly. "Okay?" He glances down when she rearranges the scarf, but he doesn't move it from this repositioning. "You should've," he still agrees. "Considering you don't really know either one of us. But it doesn't matter. Just forget it," is his repeated advice. "I am."
"Fine." Cayri shrugs and looks unhappy about the state of affairs. What's the use in arguing with I'neph though? "Just had to get it off my chest. I haven't figured out this whole 'thing' you people do around here where you bottle everything up until your heads explode."
"I don't, either," I'neph concedes. "Seems like it just messes everybody up worse, right? I mean, if I've got a problem, I take care of it, right?" Uh-huh. "You do it, too, though," he thoughtfully adds after a pause. "S'why you're always laying into me. Misplaced agression, 'n' all that."
Cayri shakes her head. "No, if I was saving it all up, one day I'd /actually/ flip out on you. The way things are, I try to clear the air before it gets too thick." Amiably, she informs, "I like ya, I'neph. I like this whole dynamic we have. But ya make me want to tear my hair out at least once a day. I'm not sure exactly how that translates to the fact that I like you, but do we gotta bicker all the time?"
I'neph's brows knit, and he glances around sharply at Cayri, eyes searching her face for some hint of--something. "This is your idea of clearing the air?" he finally asks. His conclusion on the latter matter? "You're lying."
The only hint of something is cold. And authenticity to back her words, a frank mixture of frustration and whimsy. Can't we all get along?! "Lying about what?"
"Liking me," I'neph answers.
Cayri asks bemusedly, "Why would I lie about something like that?"
That pauses I'neph. "I don't know," he grudgingly admits, glancing back down at the scarf. "Same reason everybody else does? Don't ask me, I'm not the one lying about it. Lots of people /say/ they like you, but then they go around talking about you behind your back and telling people what you said behind /their/ back, and then as soon as somebody better comes along they ditch you." Pause. "D'you know, I've had the same friends since I was a kid? Don't ever talk to me any more though--I'm a /bronze/rider now."
Full of advice Cayri offers, "Maybe it's time you made some new friends then." She looks away thoughtfully again, blowing out a long stream of air that she watches until it dissolves. "I'm talkin' to you now, so that has to count for something, right? Doesn't matter to me if you're a /bronze/rider." How those lashes do bat at him. "Does it matter to you that I'm just a /green/rider?"
"It was a lot more fun," decides I'neph wistfully, "to sit around and talk about what we'd do when we were bronzeriders than to actually be one. Guess that's true about most things, though." He shrugs at her latter words, eyes cutting upward again to view her. "Something, I guess so," he concedes. "I... can't figure you out."
"Why are you trying to?" Cayri asks this like it's the most natural question to follow I'neph's remark. "Are you the only one that got it? To be a bronzerider?" She pauses, grinning from ear to ear for a second. "Well, aside from J'tei and what's-his-name." The formless third bronzerider that haunts the barracks. "They still pepper the lower caverns and you're the only one that moved on?"
"Well, yeah," says I'neph, brows knitting. "Couple of 'em impressed, blues or greens, that sort of thing. Nothing bad, but still. S'all split up. You know. Bet your... Nevermind. Guess they dumped you before you got to put up with traitor friends, right?" he breaks off the question. A shrug. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. I'm good at making friends--got lots more already, just... different ones. You and J'tei and Sori--Sarei--whoever the hell she is. It's all good. I should go." He sits up again, rubbing coldly at his hands--there's only so much one scarf can do.
Cayri says a touch glumly, "Whoever The Hell She Is thinks I'm weird. And her boyfriend is your friend? I thought you didn't like him." Why that of all things chooses to bother her should remain a mystery. "I don't have traitor friends. As of the day after tomorrow, this will be the longest I've lived in one place since I was an infant. That's my sad story." She makes a boohoo face, followed by a sympathetic one. "If you freeze to death, I'll feel really bad and probably get in trouble. Go inside."
"I don't," says I'neph. "We're still friends. What's it matter?" Speaking of traitor friends. "Anyway. Yeah, yeah, I know. Whole Weyr in mourning for me, they'll probably stick you back on that island, and wouldn't that be a tragedy," he drawls sarcastically as he gets to his feet and dusts himself off. "Night, though."
Cayri looks up with a sad-eyed smile. "Wouldn't it just." Rather than a full-fledged wave, she just wiggles one index finger to I'neph and returns, "Night though. Thanks for the company." No mention of the likelihood that her scarf is about to depart without so much as a by your leave.
Lifting a hand, I'neph offers a vague wave in parting as he strolls back toward where Dioscuth has been waiting surprisingly patiently. And yes, the scarf goes with him, not even an offer to return it.