[Log] The Great List of Absurd MOs
Who: Silarra, Tiriana
When: Day 9, Month 9, Turn 21
Where: Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
What: Tiriana and Silarra plot Gabrion's downfall. And possibly Inviere's.
Nighthearth, High Reaches Weyr
With its entrance located between the kitchen and the living cavern, this tiny bubble cavern is cozy, always kept warm and is filled with comfortable chairs and a small round table. At the far end, there's a hearth, outlined in ruddy, aging bricks, where a pot of stew simmers in the evening hours. Generally quiet, the nighthearth is the haunt of insomniacs and those seeking quiet from the bustle of daily Weyr life.
Contents:
Silarra
Obvious exits:
Inner Caverns
Silarra
Sandy brown hair is kept in a tight braid that falls to about midway down Silarra's back. Her skin is lightly tanned, with a smattering of darker freckles standing out against her cheeks. Thick, bushy eyebrows almost overshadow her smokey blue eyes on a rather narrow face. Silarra looks to be in her mid teens, with a thin build. She is a few inches over five foot tall.
Silarra is dressed in simple clothes of nice, sturdy fabrics. She wears a shirt of pale blue under a darker blue vest. Loose, dark brown pants fall far enough to nearly cover boots of almost the same color.
It's a nice quiet autumny night in the Reaches, which means many are getting cozy, curling up by fires with blankets and hot drinks and books. Tiriana is no exception, seated crosslegged in one chair, with a blanket thrown over her lap to provide a place for her notebook to last. It looks like nothing exciting, though, just inventory lists, personnel files, and assorted junk that has the Weyrwoman sighing as she rubs her eyes and sets it aside for a while.
Silarra makes her way in from the caverns, sipping at a mug of some hot drink.
Silarra makes her way in from the caverns, sipping at a mug of some hot drink, a notebook in her other hand. She bites her lip as she pauses to look around, ending up angling for a chair near Tiriana. "Mauled by a wherry." She mutters under her breath. "Do I have that yet?" Yes, she's talking to herself.
It's a strange enough snippet of conversation that it penetrates Tiriana's concentration-induced fog; a quick shake of her head clears it out enough that she can turn and blink at Silarra for a moment. "What?" she asks, brows lifting in confusion. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"
Silarra curls her legs under her to sink down into the chair. Tiriana get a smile and a laugh. "Mauled by wherries. Like, as an absurd way to die. I'm working on a list of them." Silarra states. "Of ways my cousin could die. Well, not really, it's a running joke. That way I'll know tons of them to throw at him the next time I'm teasing him."
That's certainly got her attention. Tiriana slides her work a little further away, forehead furrowing as she tries to make sense of this idea. "Why do they have to be absurd?" she wonders. "I mean, it's hard to beat the classics, you know--like a knife across the throat, or pushing him down the stairs. Those sorts of things. They always work. Can't exactly rely on a convenient flock of wherries when you need 'em."
"Well, the classics would probably be best if I really wanted to kill my cousin. But if I did that, I couldn't tease him anymore." Silarra reasons with a grin. "Really, it all comes back to his mother being worried that he'll trip and fall and die. So the joke is all the craziest ways he could die. Like wherries." It makes sense to her at least, and the young woman shrugs taking a sip of her cider.
"Oh." That does make sense, in a twisted sort of way, so Tiriana lets it go for a moment. Then, "Roasted. On a spit. With canines and everything," she suggests. "What's wrong with your mother? And who is this kid anyway? Oughta know who we're planning on offing."
Silarra gives Tiriana a big grin for that. "Good one. I'll have to remember to write it down. I already used being eaten by spit dogs, but that's a new take on things." Silarra notes, looking down to her notebook. "Nothing much wrong with my mother. It's my aunt whose paranoid. Her older kid died back probably about the time I was born. So she's completely afraid that the twins will. And it's Gabe, Gabrion I mean. That's who we're planning the demise of."
"Mother, aunt, whatever," Tiriana answers with a wave of her hand. "/My/ mother never gave a damn, I don't think. And my aunt always figured it'd serve me right if I broke my neck on some stunt. Not like being overprotective like that gets you anywhere--kids are still going to do kid-things." Such is her take on parenting, apparently. As for their victim's identity, she snorts. "That brat? Okay, well, maybe she ought to worry, because if he's not careful he's gonna end up slapped or something."
Silarra laughs for a good bit of time at Tiriana's assessment of her cousin. "Yeah. That's definitely Gabe. He may well end up slapped by me one of these days." She shift position, stretching her legs out in front of her. "See, it's lots of fun to plan /his/ crazy demises." Silarra is joking though, by the tone of her voice. "My mother is somewhere in between. Worried about the big things, but more socially. She had no issue letting me hang around runners and other bigger animals even as a little child."
"My cousins all suck," is Tiriana's thoughts on that. "Well, except for N'ro, but he kind of sucks too these days. All settled down and old and boring." She makes a face at the very thought of such things, then adds, "Grew up riding, with both my parents. Nobody ever even said 'be careful,' really. --Course, they ended up killing Momma, so what do they know, but."
"I have too many cousins for them all to suck. Gabe is at least fun to torment." Silarra states dryly. "I grew up in a trader clan. Runners were just part of life. I like working with them, do that here." She winces at the statement about them killing Tiriana's mother, but doesn't otherwise comment on it.
"Weyrbred, from Ierne," is Tiriana's offering of her own background. "Hitched onto a caravan once, though. It was boring--just walking around in the forest a whole bunch, so I turned around and came back. It pretty much took up my whole afternoon."
"A whole afternoon, huh? So long to be bored." Silarra jokes with a dry tone and a light laugh before she adds. "I got tired of the never staying in one place. That's why I ended up here. Well, and having family here and being able to work here."
Tiriana snorts at that. "Yeah, it was awful. Way more fun to run around the Weyr and stir crap up. And, um. Screw with my sucky cousins, although I guess I always went more for the real attempted murdering than the hypothetical absurd types," she admits with a smirk. "You'd think all the traveling around would be exciting and different and new, but it's really not."
Silarra nods her head. "You'd think it would be. But it's the same places time after time. And way, way too much time with your extended family. /Way/ too much time." She pauses for a sip of juice before she raises her eyebrows. "Real attempted murdering? That sounds interesting."
"Something like that," answers Tiriana. She sits up a little straighter, looking quite pleased with herself. Her childhood antics are interesting! "Mostly beat the ever-loving shit out of them, pretty regular. My aunt still swears I tried to drown one of 'em once, but that was all playing and anyway, he started it, so."
Silarra laughs brightly at that. "Hey, it's all fun and games until someone's dunked so long they start to turn blue, right?" She jokes before grinning. "I bet your cousins just /loved/ you, especially when they were covered in bruises."
Tiriana, choosing to take that at face value, shrugs. "Not really," she admits. "Think N'ro's the only one that tolerated me much, and that's cause he's just too goofy to take him serious. That, and he outgrew me fast. Don't figure you got to worry about that, though, right? Not with that Gabrion kid. I've seen bigger midgets."
Silarra snickers and nods. "Not hard to be bigger than Gabe. I bet I could make him cry with one hand tied behind my back. Lots of the sibs and cousins my age are lots taller than I am, though. But I'm wiry and strong. I'd at least try to take them. Might end up broken, but hey, that's the risk."
It makes Tiriana snicker, and her broad smirk is definitely approving, even co-conspirating. "Exactly," she commends Silarra. "Besides, they're probably all just a bunch of wimps that don't expect a girl to bring it to them--let alone be able to kick their scrawny butts."
Silarra nods her head. "I've done my share, well, especially when my parents weren't likely to find out. Cause it's not like my big brother was going to be willing to share that I whacked him hard enough to bruise or anything. But really, I tend not to get into big fights. Too much else to do. Like mucking."
"Mine were all a bunch of tattle-tales--my cousins, at any rate, because they knew their momma would come after me. Or, well, after my Daddy, more like," says Tiriana. "The other weyrbrats, though, they didn't dare say anything, 'cause they knew between me and Daddy, we'd kick the asses of their whole family." Just the memory of that is enough to make her smile broaden: ah, family violence. Nothing quite like it. "So, you like runners, yeah? You work in the stables?"
Silarra nods her head. "I do. To both of those questions. I like animals of all sorts, really. I think they make /so/ much more sense than lots of humans. Especially girls. With all their giggling and making eyes at boys." Silarra snorts. "Like they look attractive when they're acting like idiots."
Tiriana actually laughs at that: a real laugh, not one of those snickers she's more prone to. "Girls are idiots," she agrees. "Boys are better than them, although the runners definitely still win out. I stuck a couple of people in the stables lately--this one twit today, some holder's brat that thought she was going to get to be headwoman right away or some crap like that." Here, she snorts. "Always fun, seeing the look on their faces when you tell them stables--but at some point, you gotta start feeling sorry for the runners, right?"
Silarra nods her head. "They are. Except Gabe. He counts more as a girl. Runner definitely win hands down." She states before she winces. "Oh, I'm sure she will be /so/ much fun to work with. Probably complain the whole time about how much her hair will smell like runner from it or something." Silarra pauses for a second before she adds. "At least, for the runners sake, there are also some us who actually like them."
"Inviere, that's her name," Tiriana supplies. "Keep an eye on her, will you? And if she's doing anything wrong, messing with the runners or something, you can beat her up for me. She's big but I figure you can take her: she didn't look like much when I saw her."
"Inviere." Silarra repeats, so that she'll remember it. "I'll keep an eye on her. The runners deserve to be treated well." She states before she just smirks. "Permission to beat her up? She messes with a runner, I'd be up for that. I may be on the small size, but I'm wiry."
"I'll leave her in your capable hands, then," Tiriana says, smirking as she leans over to gather up her stuff. The blanket across her lap is wadded up and left for the next person to claim this particular chair, and the Weyrwoman stands and stretches. "What's your name, anyway?"
Silarra smiles over and nods. "I'll do my best." She states, finishing off the last of her mug of hot cider before she straightens up in her chair and answers the question. "Oh, right. I didn't tell you, did it? I'm Silarra."
"Silarra," she repeats that name before offering her own: "Tiriana. I'll see you around, I guess. Lemme know if any of those girly twits give you trouble down there, okay?" And then she's standing, books tucked under her arm as she turns to saunter off.