[Log] Dicking With A'son
Who: Persie, Tiriana
When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 20
Where: Tiriana and Iovniath's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
What: Persie has a plan. Tiriana wants to help.
Notes: Ends kind of abruptly. It got late. :(
It's an afternoon. And maybe this means that Tiriana is out running around and being busy, or maybe, when Persie arrives on her ledge for the very first time ever in the history of mankind, Tiriana will be inside. "Is she... is..." Persie does a poor job of addressing the queen dragon. << Mine would like to see yours if she's available, >> Secath supplies, sounding very much like she might like to roll her eyes at her inept lifemate.
With the weather being what it's been being, Tiriana is sure to be found inside, and today it's in her weyr that she's found refuge. Iovniath, on the ledge no matter the weather--indeed, the more wintry the more she seems to enjoy it--regards the nervous visitor, then, with something approaching bemusement. << She is in, >> she answers Secath, mild as she moves aside just enough to encourage Persie's entrance.
Persie takes a big breath, letting it out all at once as a smile, nervous and excited, breaks across her face. She grins her gratitude to Iovniath and heads on in, trying to leave as much snow outside the weyr as possible. "Tiriana? Um, Ma'am? Weyrwoman?" One of these has to be right. "I mean, Weyrwoman." At least, for a second she does.
A beat later, Tiriana appears at the door, eyeing Persie. "You know you can just pick one and stick with it, right?" she asks, crossing her arms. She leans against the doorway for a moment while the greenrider shakes off her boots. "You want something to drink or something?"
"Oh um... Well, which is it? I mean, which do you refer?" Persie asks, busily tapping off her boots and trying to shake off the flakes that clings to her hat and scarf, her mittens. "I, um, I can have a drink, yeah. You're not terribly busy, are you? I feel like this is such a silly thing to..." She's just shaking her head, biting her lip, but now she's stopped the anti-snow dance at least and is smiling anxiously at Tiriana.
Tiriana just looks at Persie. "Does it really mattter?" she asks, skeptically. "Just pick something already. Here." And she's turning to head further inside, apparently expecting Persie to follow while she sets about getting a hot drink for her. "What's silly?"
Persie takes two steps inside, just as ready to follow as Tiriana is ready to lead, only Persie is leaving wet boot prints behind her, in the Weyrwoman's fine weyr. "Should I take my shoes off? Is that proper? Talking to the Weyrwoman in my socks? I've never done this before." She frowns down at her feet, starts to bend, stops, starts to walk again, stops. "And it's silly because it's really the sort of thing I should just talk to Milani about but... I don't think it would be... good."
Tiriana, busily pouring a pair of drinks for them, glances up still at all of Persie's hesitations. She breathes out a sigh, remarks, "You know I don't really give a damn either way, right? If you want to take the things off, then take them off already. It's not like I'm wearing my gather finery here." The exasperation is good-natured, at least; at least for now. But the stumbling explanations earn Persie a confused look shortly before Tiriana is passing a mug of tea her way. "What?"
Persie will take that as an invitation to hurriedly get out of her shoes and then come trotting after Tiriana in her bright pink socks. "Well, it's about A'son and you know... Milani and A'son... And I didn't think that Milani would really want to hear from me that, well, he asked me to move in with him. At least, I'm pretty sure. Anyway, it seems like who-is-in-what-weyr is probably something that someone needs to know about."
"Milani and... Oh." Tiriana catches on a beat later, her eyes drawn downward toward hot pink socks. She only remarks, "I have a hat that color," before she's flopping on her couch and then reaching for her own drink to curl her fingers around its warmth. "So you and A'son. And you don't want to tell her that? Why?" Nevermind that Persie just explained /her/ reasons; those aren't good enough for Tiriana, apparently.
Persie's toes curl under at the attention; they must be shy things. But then their owner is taking up a cup and sitting down on the couch with a little less flop than Tiriana. "Well, you know how Milani and A'son had... you know, a thing. And I just figured that if I went and asked her or told her or whatever, that she'd be upset and it would be awkward. Not that she'd act upset, but it would be awkward anyway. I thought this might be less... awkward." And with that, she takes an awkward sip of her drink.
"Coming and telling me?" Tiriana looks more dubious about this. "Not exactly most people's first choice when they come wanting to spill good news. --It is good news, right? He wants you to move in?" A curious look takes in the greenrider over her mug. "Be rubbing it in that bitch's face every chance I got."
"It's good news," Persie says with a quick nod of her head and a smile that's just as shy as her toes were a moment ago. "Well, it's good news to me. Leova kind of laughed at me so I guess that it's... funny news to some people. And I'd imagine that it would be hard news for Milani. I don't want her to be upset. I didn't..." The next word gets lost in the slow press of her teeth into her lip. It takes her another moment to say it. "I didn't steal him. I wouldn't do that. I just feel bad anyway."
"Well," concedes Tiriana, thoughtful, "it /is/ A'son. He's... A'son." She pulls a face, rather disgusted. A shake of her head, though, and she moves on quickly. "I'll tell her, then. It's always good to have a way to keep her down, before she can start trying to walk all over me. All those headwomen and hell, half the way--always wanting to tell me what to do. Or worse, just give me 'a little bit of advice.' Have to keep 'em in their places, all of them." And that thought makes her scowl indeed, just for a minute.
Persie blinks a little, wide eyes slipping down toward the floor as she visibly wonders if maybe this bit of information was a mistake. "I wouldn't know anything about that. Is that... is that a probl-- Well, obviously it is... Um..." Oh, this is a good time to take a sip of her drink. Oh, nice drink. "You... you don't think A'son is..." No, she changes course. "He's so good to me," she says, head bowed. "I mean, he wants me to move in. Me. And he's not scared of me and he doesn't pity me and he makes me feel like... someone."
Confusion sets in; what's she going on about this time. "A'son's not... what?" Tiriana asks, head tilting.
"He's not scared of me," Persie says again, even if the notion is a bit out of left field. "I mean, the way I am. The way I get. When I feel crazy. It doesn't scare him. He doesn't run away. He's sure about me even when I'm not."
"But you're not scary," Tiriana says, as though Persie is missing some extremely obvious piece of the puzzle. "You're wearing pink socks, for Faranth's sake."
"Well, people leave anyway. I'm... not enough. There's always something wrong with me. But A'son doesn't think that. He's like..." Persie falters again, looking for a word. "What do you call that place? The place where nothing bad can happen, where you're safe." Nervously, she rubs curled fingers against her lips. "Anyway, my weyr is too small for both of us."
"Your... safe place?" Tiriana doesn't know, makes a stab at it, eyeing Persie again. "So you want a big new one. His isn't good enough? I don't care which one you take, really--long as it's empty, of course. Or I could throw somebody out, if you really want it." A shrug.
Persie thinks for a moment, and then she lifts her head, looking at some point to the side of Tiriana, blinking a little at the nothing she sees there. "I..." Something seems to have occurred to her, just now, in the midst of all this. "I was going to ask for I'duar's weyr but... I don't think I need to anymore. Maybe I was just scared and it felt... easier that way?" She's look at Tiriana now, asking her this question as if the Weyrwoman would know the answer. "But maybe I still want to. I think someone who remembers him should live there. And it's not right for it to be empty. Unwanted after all this time. What do you think?"
The request makes Tiriana blink, surprise flashing over her features. "That old one?" she asks. "But..." It stumpts her, the latter question, and she stops for a moment as though to mull it. "Didn't really know him, myself," she finally says, slowly. "But if you want it, okay. Little morbid, maybe, but then--." And her eyes glance away, over this weyr, too: her own spoils, of a sort.
This is another new thought occuring to Persie as she looks around the weyr someone else left behind. She leans in a little, just a bit, to ask the personal question: "Do you feel like someone else would appreciate it the way that you do? That she was here? Or is it just strange and not yours because you knew it as hers?"
Though it's been months, closing in on a turn now, Tiriana still hesitates, another wary look shot around the room as though she expects Satiet to step out at any minute and dress her down for making herself too at home. "Got rid of it all," says Tiriana after a moment. "That stuff. Didn't want--need it." Another shrug, deliberate. "Leastways wasn't like I lived here all my life. Impressed here or anything."
"Well, I haven't lived here always either." Tiriana's hesitation much be catching because now Persie looks around again with a renewed nervousness. "But I have so much of my own stuff and there's all of A'son's stuff, I don't think there'd be much room to keep... well, I don't know what's up there now. Could we... could we have I'daur's weyr?" Despite the hesitation, it seems the greenrider has made up her mind now.
"Think it's mostly empty. Left the big stuff, maybe," says Tiriana, squinting slightly as she tries to remember what that one weyr might be like today. It's a good distraction from remembering her own's prior occupant. "Yeah. Take it. Somebody'll have to live in it eventually, anyway, and, well. Like you said."
Persie takes a big breath. "A lot of moving to do," she says with a nervous laugh at the prospect of not only moving her stuff and A'son's stuff, but now I'daur's old stuff too. "Do you think you could... not say anything? To anyone? Until I get it done. I was going to... surprise him."
That makes Tiriana scratch her head, but she agrees with a nod. "Okay, I guess. Won't say nothing, not even to Milani," she promises.
"Well, I don't want him to be in the living cavern getting lunch and have someone come up and say something about moving and have him get all confused. I want it to be a surprise. So he can go home and wonder where all of his stuff went." Persie looks utterly impish at this prospect, the vision of A'son coming home to an empty house as if robbed by air-bandits.
That idea makes Tiriana snicker, her brows lifting up. "You'll have to do it fast, in one day," she points out. "While he's out on sweeps or something, so he doesn't come back and wonder where half his shit ended up." A beat, and she adds, smirking, "Could help, if you wanted. If it'll fuck with A'son."
"That's what I was thinking--all in one day while he's in the barracks or something." Persie is nodding quickly, shifting around as they get into the plotting and planning. She takes a hurried sip of her drink. "Secath is pretty good with the bigger things, getting them from one ledge to the other, but there's still a lot of small stuff to move. Would you really want to help? You know, it's too bad the weyrlings aren't really flying yet. I bet they could get it done in no time."
Tiriana shrugs. "Wouldn't mind, some afternoon," she offers. "Packing. Go through all his stuff. Shouldn't tell him which weyr it's in--just make him search every last one of him first." Which just makes her snicker, and whatever seriousness mention of previous owners might have brought on vanishes the more she imagines dicking with A'son.
Persie just about giggles and may A'son -should- be afraid if he's planning on moving in with a girl who would steal all of his stuff and hide it in a new home without warning and without telling him where that new home might be, just to mess around with him. "I bet I couldn't wait very long, though. I mean, part of me wants to be in his weyr when he comes home and finds it all empty, just to see his face. That would probably ruin the surprise, though, wouldn't it." She takes a last, long drink and then sets the cup aside. "I should probably get going. I have a lot of stuff to pack up." And, at the moment, this is exciting instead of exhausting.
Tiriana eyes Persie a moment, smirk undaunted. "What, laying naked in bed waiting on him to find you?" she suggests, with a leer. Her own drink's set aside, but she doesn't get up, only lounges back in her couch again. "Let me know when, then. Could at least keep him busy with something, while you're up there."