[Log] A Varied Conversation
Who: Aivey, E'sere
When: Day 24, Month 9, Turn 2, 7th Pass
Where: Exile Settlement, Western Islands
What: Aivey and E'sere talk again, this time about worries, dragons, and E'sere's prettiness.
On a Western Island, Deep in the Forest
It's a pleasant island, made moreso by the work of many hands. Stone cliffs on the leeward side make a home for dragons, a large cavern at the base home to the rest in all but the worst rain season. Tropical forest covers most of the island, though there is a small plot of land near the cliffs for cultivated crops and beasts, and the exiles have even added a small dock for the small fishing boats made from the wood of the native trees.
The smoke of fires for cooking, heating water from the freshwater stream that bubbles through the center of the camp, and even the occasional resmithing of old metal traces a hazy line above the island.
The dry season's sky stretches endless blue, but there are days where the winds do not blow and there is a heavy stillness in the air. The heat can become oppressive, small insects quiet their usual noise, and even the plants seem to wilt in the heat.
Contents:
Aivey
Obvious Exits:
Coastline (C) Dragonweyr Cliffs (DC)
It's late enough in the afternoon that some of the workers are beginning to trickle back in to camp, those who finished their work early. E'sere is apparently one of them, as he wanders back at the back of a group of other men, the bronzerider straggling a little. While they head off in separate directions, E'sere heads to the stream of water at one side of the camp, sitting down at its edge and then turning to inspect his hands and wash them off.
Aivey isn't among those who've put in a hard day of work. No, she put in a hard day of lounging around, talking to what few people she felt like talking to and wandering around the island. Her wandering now takes her to where E'sere is at. A cloth is tied around her upper right arm while her left is still draped around her middle. When she spots the bronzerider crouching by the stream of water a small smile surfaces. It turns taunting in the wake of her call to him. "Make sure you scrub under those nails or you won't get any dinner."
"I always do," E'sere remarks without looking up, rubbing his hands and then dashing most of the water from them. The rest is dried off on the hem of his shirt, though he doesn't look happy about that. Still, he looks back up at Aivey and smirks himself, noting, "Have a nice day? Must've been tough, sitting around here all day. I'm glad I didn't have /that/ chore." Pause. He adds, "I caught a fish today."
Aivey works the cloth tied around her arm free and walks toward E'sere, joining him in his crouch. Her own is easily sunk into, the cloth dipped into the water and then neatly twisted out before she presses it against her face. "Shame you had to get your shirt all wet like that," Then, "Oh you're right. It's downright horrible though I'm not complaining. I'm like that-" She looks aside to him, quirks a smile that remains in place as he tells her he caught a fish. "A whole fish. Congratulations."
"Thank you," E'sere replies graciously, bowing his head slightly. "I knew my Tillek relations would be handy /some/day. I am a masterfisherman in the making." He smirks again, then adds, "Downright noble of you, though, to suffer in silence. Hope I can live up to that standard, if I ever get scored. Though, that's not likely in the near future, considering J'lor's position on my flying."
"One fish at a time, E'sere," Aivey says, tone still lightly jesting, "That's the way to do it." She wrings the re-dipped cloth out, shaking the loose water from her fingers before draping said cloth over her neck and back. A small sigh follows, one of clear relief before she's cupping water in her hands and taking several deep mouthfulls. Only after sating her thirst does she look back to the bronzerider, her fingers now idly trailing in the water, "Don't tell me you never got scored, all those times you flew and as for J'lor, well I suspect he's just playing it cautiously. You did come along with me and I don't think he favors my father all that much."
"/We/ do it?" E'sere remarks, lifting a brow. He snorts, then resettles himself on the ground more comfortably. "He doesn't trust me; he thinks I'm lying to him," he answers about J'lor. "And Morelenth and I have been lucky--he's been hit before, but I haven't."
Aivey responds to the easiest of those remarks with a scoff. "No wonder you're such a pretty boy. Guess that means I have one up on you... make that two up on you: scored and staked out for thread... you've got some catching up to do," Aivey, in the spirit of the taunt, flicks those fingers trailing in the water, seeking to spray E'sere with little droplets of water. Watch him melt! "J'lor doesn't trust Derek, I think, and anyone associated with him. He's simple. Has a good heart and is led by it. It'll get him in trouble, maybe even killed one of these days."
E'sere's nose wrinkles, and he ducks his head to hide his face from the water; it doesn't help much, and again he's left to use the hem of his shirt to dry off with. Poor shirt. "I think I can affort to /let/ you win that one. I happen to like being pretty, after all." As though that were a surprise. And then: "I'd say he's lucky to have not gotten killed already. If coming after you was a measure of his leadership genius, well. No wonder he got himself overthrown."
Aivey's hands are back in the water, her fingers trailing along with the stream, "Because it's gotten you so many places," Aivey replies, "At least you've got that much going for you." She scoops another handful of water into her mouth then drops the hand back into the water, "He went because my dad asked. It gets more complicated then that, but that's the meat of it. But you're right, he's lucky he's not been killed already. Take one guess why, E'sere." Aivey's gaze is upon his, suddenly quite serious.
"So I do," E'sere agrees easily, smirking. "I wouldn't be half as good a politician if I were ugly. It's just too hard to charm people over then." Though, as quickly as Aivey's, his demeanor changes for the serious at her latter words. "He's still useful," he answers with a shrug. "He's popular, he's capable--I don't know that they could field someone to do a better job in leading 'Fall, and considering all our lives depend on just how good a job they do then?"
"He's that," Aivey says with a nod of approval, "He's an icon too. He was the leader of the Instigators, the man who set it all into motion. Remember that bit about the value of life?" Under the water, Aivey's fingers are flicking, causing tiny disturbances below the surface of the water, "Right now, J'lor has value. You.. you could easily replace all of what he is save for the whole icon part. You've flown in 'fall, you /were/ a Wingleader and you know the more practical formations. Plus you have that whole pretty boy thing going for you. So." Aivey looks back up from the water, to E'sere, "If you were him, and he came to you asking if you'd let him fly... what would you tell him?"
"I'd fly with him," E'sere notes easily. "Practically, every rider is a necessity with these low numbers. I might not trust him outside of 'Fall, but no one is foolish enough to try something up there. And... as you said, he /is/ an icon: if you want to do well here, you need Derek's approval. If you want to be well-thought-of, you need his."
"Allowing him to fly with you sends a signal. A silent one, but a signal all the same." Aivey says quietly, gaze still serious, "Some might not read it the way you intend for them to which could cause problems. And you're right on that last bit. Good on you." Quite suddenly, that is that. Aivey flicks her fingers in E'sere's direction again, seeking to send tiny droplets of water toward him. This time they're not so much aimed at his face as they are his arms, "Have you spoken to many people since we've come here?"
If they aren't going to land on his face, E'sere can brave the droplets of water sailing toward him; he stays still this time, and just regards Aivey bemusedly--he's not going to give her the satisfaction again of wiping them away. Instead, he remarks, "As many as I can, of course. I'm trying to get to know them, best I can--they're not all so very open, but. I'll win them over in the end--I imagine any number of them clamoring about me soon. I'm certainly prettier scenery than the rest of what they have here, no? I imagine it gets boring, no new blood for so long." He grins.
For a very long, very silent moment Aivey just looks at E'sere. "Are you always this optimistic or are you just that desperate?" The slightest quirk of her lips suggests another taunt, even if that half smile is short lived. "I think the ones that find you pretty aren't the type you want clamoring about you, trust me on this one." More water flicking, this time away from E'sere, "Just be careful, okay? This isn't the 'Reaches. I'm not even the right person to be telling you this, probably -- I can't count the number of people who've /told/ me as much -- so just be careful." Aivey's gaze lingers longer then usual as though she's fighting indecision on exactly whether or not she should say more. In the end she opts out and falls silent.
"It's called bravado," E'sere replies, voice snide, though he's blatantly fighting back a smirk of his own. "Don't stab a hole in my ego just yet--it's all I've got left. As for who's clamoring? I'm rather used to it by now--here I might just be a pretty face, but /I/ was the icon back at the Reaches." Pause. Serious again. E'sere's lips purse, and he brushes a damp hand at his hair absently before he replies. "Everyone keeps telling me that, too. I assure you, I'm more than aware by this point of all the differences between here and home," he notes wryly. "You shouldn't keep worrying about me."
"Why do you think I went after you in the first place?" Aivey remarks, wholly serious, "You, T'zen, Issa... Tavaly and the rest who flew Nabol, but you long before that. That-" She looks back to E'sere, lips pursed with amusement that's ill placed, "That was a secret I've never told before now. I always used Nabol as the excuse." Back to the water she goes, pushing her hand down to the bottom of it and allowing the cold water to numb her hand, "I'm not worried," This is firm, indignant, maybe overly so, "I'm just protecting my interests. You happen to be one of them." Looking back to the bronzerider, Aivey adds, "I don't think Katric's terribly fond of me. Donavon... I'm sure we've settled our score, but Katric's a different story."
"You sound worried," E'sere notes, the arch of his brows bemused. "I think I'm flattered. So much for deflating my ego." He regards her a moment longer, slowly smirking, and then he shrugs lightly and looks to the water himself. "Katric means well, and in the end, he does whatever Donavon and I tell him. I think he blames you a little for my ending up here--he seems to have decided I'm going to rescue him--but really, I've made it very clear to him exactly what our positions are here. He won't bother you. Well, he won't hurt you, anyway. I think he pesters everyone," he notes, shaking his head wryly.
"I'm not concerned with him hurting me," Aivey replies off hand, "I was thinking more along the lines of him being worried about me. I asked Nera for a knife... in a round abouts way, and he didn't seem to keen on the idea. Certainly didn't help my cause any, though it's all the same since I didn't expect her to say yes. Not yet, at least." Aivey withdraws her hand, resting it atop her knee - why yes, she's just glimpsed all over the part about her sounding worried - "He's a lot like J'lor, but you're right. He's got bite."
"If it was in a roundabout way, it's debateable if he even picked up your meaning," E'sere drawls. "But... Yes, that's an accurate comparison, I'd say. He's big on ideals, and what's best for the majority--and he's not afraid to kill if he thinks that's what's necessary. Were you there, with the eggs?" The bronzerider cocks his head a moment, and then--he's not going to let her escape that subject--says, "So you're interested in me now."
"Islay offered to sharpen knives," Aivey explains, "I said I'd help. He looked worried. Like I might go carving up the first person I ran into. You'd think though, with him being a healer and all, he'd appreciate the fact that I could keep him busy that way but..." A mock disappointed sigh and Aivey's back to trailing her fingers in the water while she nods, "I was there for the eggs, too. I'd given doing that some thought myself but, well, even I have morals. I decided against it in the end." At his last statement, Aivey responds with a simple, "In/v/ested."
"Huh." E'sere looks mildly surprised, but he shrugs it off. "You might try pointing that out to him next time, then. Donavon put him up to it, the eggs. Cold, even for him." A pause. "Morelenth... Morelenth said he'd have /between/ed in shame if I had anything to do with it," he admits after a moment, frowning. The latter subject is dropped for a moment.
"If you think I should talk to him... make him less open to suggestion, just ask. It'll be done before this time tomorrow." Aivey offers. Like he'd turned serious for her during the earlier part of their conversation, she does so now for him, though there's less thought behind it then worry. "You'd be like Ganathon," Aivey says quietly, "So it's fortunate for you that you didn't and won't ever," Oh how she stresses that last word, "Have anything to do with anything that'll make him do that. Do what you can, E'sere, but for the rest? Just ask." Her favored phrase, and given so dismissively.
"No, no--Donavon and I can handle him," E'sere brushes off her ideas regarding Katric breezily. That nonchalance can't last, however, when she mentions Ganathon; the rider's expression sobers again and he nods after a moment, agreeing simply, "If I survived him." A pause, and he offers a half-smile to her latter offer. "I see. A very generous offer, Aivey," he remarks. "I'll... keep it in the back of my mind."
Aivey doesn't say anything right off the bat. Instead she studies E'sere in her typical fashion, the end of which she closes with, "I'd call it a weakness, being attached to something like that where I couldn't do what I had to for fear of losing it," Them, the dragon, "I don't envy you for it but sometimes I do." Aivey doesn't say anything further on that point and, in order to make another one, flicks more water in E'sere's direction. This time, she does aim for his shirt.
"It... It is a weakness, in some ways," E'sere agrees. "But in the end, it's my strength, too. Can't be Weyrleader without the big, shiny dragon, now can I? For all I--despite how I am, and my differences with him, I wouldn't wish Morelenth away." A shrug; he frowns and looks away. "They'll make you stand for the eggs," he notes after a moment.
"A point," Aivey conceeds with both a smile and tilt of her head in his direction. The former vanishes at the end of his statement, and Aivey, with a rather stubborn set of her jaw, shakes her head. "The way I hear it, they might not even have enough as is. And what're the chances?" She looks to him a little too quickly, a little too sharply as though his answer was *the word*. "There's no point in me standing. Not again."
E'sere simply points out, "I stood three times, before Morelenth found me." He regards Aivey steadily in return for her look.
"You act as though I want to be on a dragon, to be chained down," Aivey returns, her own regard steady, "A green... no," Aivey's features twist into a disagreeable mask as she shakes her head, "Never."
"Gold, then?" E'sere notes, smirk broadening. "To my bronze?" He can't resist, but his expression is definitely lighter now, teasing as he looks at her scowling.
Aivey, in response, lifts that water soaked fist and aims a punch at E'sere's shoulder. By the end of it, the scowl is gone and Aivey is shaking her head, "No dragon would ever chose me. I've done enough to shame... well," She has to pause here and think as the original intention - her father - isn't the best marker for shame, "Let's just put it this way. No dragon would last a day with me." And that, however soberly put, is Aivey's felt truth.
E'sere's wince is melodramatically emphasized as he lifts a hand to clasp his shoulder, and, not incidentally, try to dash a little of that water from it. "Don't bruise me--it ruins the prettiness," he chides her, smirking still. "Though, I hear scars are dashing--you should see Donavon showing off that gash you gave him. Though, I think he's claiming it was half a dozen men about my size that jumped him, and he killed them all afterward, too." He shakes his head, and adds one last note, lightly: "In that case, though, I'll see if Morelenth can't warn them off you when they hatch, for their own good."
Aivey's ready to counter E'sere's mis-informed logic about scars ruining prettiness, but with his annecdote she actually laughs and adds, "Scars are a benefit. You can't consider a man a man if he doesn't have a scar or two to his name." Which brings the sympathetic, ego-crashing smile to the surface, "For Donavon's sake, though, I'll let his story stick. I did play it dirty, after all." To E'sere's last note, Aivey sobers anew, "I won't be there. You'll have to keep close watch on what happens so you can fill me in later. I imagine... Katric and Donavon might both be there, saying J'lor allows it for Katric."
Woefully, E'sere notes, "I don't think I have a one, or if I do, I've never noticed it." He extends his hands to turn them over in inspection, nose wrinkling as they apparently--despite a few recent scraped and newly forming calluses--don't meet that expectation. Almost sheepishly, he ruffles at his hair again, and then shrugs. "Donavon's older than I am; I don't think he's really eligible. Katric... Well. Would you rather have a dragon-murderer impress, or have a dragon die because he wasn't there to impress it?" he notes philosophically. And: "Oh? And where are /you/ planning on hiding out, then?"
"If I ever get my knife, I promise you'll be the first person I wean it in on," Aivey, looking rather serious about the offer, isn't likely to take no for an answer. Or so the serious expression suggests. It doesn't melt either with the rest of his words, and, if at all possible, turns /more/ serious. "Funny, he doesn't look it. And I suppose you're right about Katric. They'll end up deciding, one way or another. 'least that's what the favored saying was back in the caverns." A quick beat brings, "Now if I told you that it wouldn't be much of a secret, now would it?"
Even E'sere doesn't know what to say to an offer like that; he just blinks at Aivey, and stares at her, and finally offers, "Ah. Thank you? That's a compliment, yes? I thought you said you didn't want to stab me, though." Again, a hand runs through his hair, and he adds after a moment. "Well, not /much/ older, but I still like rubbing a few months in his face. Are you trying to tell me /I/ look old now?" Pause. "/And/ you're keeping secrets, too? I'm disappointed, Aivey."
"Slice," Aivey says, making the motion with her hand and the sound effect to go with it on the off chance it's misunderstood, "Those leave nicer scars. The other ones are all puckered and not all that pretty." Casual as can be, she then says, "You're still prettier then he is, if that makes you feel any better, but yes. On this one, I am. Though if you're resourceful enough, you might just find me. Consider it a challenge." Aivey tags a smile onto the end, before she eases out of her crouch and stands. She doesn't immediately walk away, waiting for the numbness in her legs to go away.
"Oh," says E'sere, still sounding a little bewildered--it's not a typical tone or expression for him. "Well, in that case, carry on, and good luck with your knife-getting. And, thanks." He adopts an odd smile--did he really just say that? He shakes his head, and looks back when she stands, glancing upward. "And just what," he asks after a moment, "do I win if I find you?"
"Katric had that same expression," Aivey muses, apparently amused by E'sere's bewildered state, "But with any luck, I'll have Nera convinced before much longer." In the process of wrapping that cloth back around her arm, Aivey considers E'sere's last question, "If you can find me... I suppose you'd get to name your prize." Aivey clearly doesn't think this is much to worry about, and it shows in the tone she delivers it, "Just try to not get yourself killed in the process, alright?"
E'sere sniffs and tries to ignore her amusement, focusing instead on her latter words. "I do like that bargain," he tells her, smirking. And: "I'll be careful: I wouldn't want to worry you /more/, Aivey dear."
Instead of saying anything, Aivey fixes E'sere with her most untroubled smile. Then, with a quick waggle of her fingers, she turns and moves away from the stream, away from the main area and into the deeper portions of the forest.