Her Favors
Location: Kitchen
Time: Wee hours on Day 24, Month 11, Turn 3
Players: Roa and R'en
Scene: Late night finds two dragonriders in the kitchen. There's a lot of talking. Not too much listening,
Late night has become a routine time of wakefulness for the little weyrwoman. Cramping legs, sudden bursts of midnight activity from her midsection, and general insomnia combine to keep Roa from any sort of normal sleep schedule. Odd cravings and odder times for her stomach demanding them have pulled Roa from her bed and brought her down to the kitchen, still in her sleep-shirt and trousers. She has a sweater over the sleeveless shirt, but her feet are bare. She is perched on one of the stools, in the empty kitchen, cutting several redfruits into quarters on plate beside a small bowl of mustard.
Take away the cramping legs and the fidgety stomach creature and you have R'en. Not being able to sleep is normal for him, has been for some time now, so while he was going through the living cavern he got a few familiar nods from other late-night wanderers, fellow non-sleepers. They don't talk, they just acknowledge each other and move on in their zombie-like existence. In the kitchen now - in raggedy pajama bottoms and unlaced boots and a buttonless shirt underneath his open jacket - he pauses. Roa is unmistakable. But one of the very few kitchen workers has already seen him and given him the 'one moment' finger so he can't leave /now/. The deep breath he takes is a sigh and precedes him going to one of the other stools, sitting and hunching over with his elbows on the table.
She misses his entrance, but Roa doesn't miss the sigh. It has her peering upwards, knife stopped at mid-slice, and she swallows once at what she sees. Her gaze lowers again and she returns to cutting up her second redfruit. She motions ae a bit faster, now, and she again glances around, her gaze settling on some of the covered plates and baskets meant for transporting goods from place to place.
So she's cutting faster /and/ she isn't paying attention. When R'en inevitably looks over at her he notices. Not only that, he also takes a moment to recognize the food items in front of her. Fruit. Mustard. "Should probably be careful with that," he mutters into the hands he has clasped in front of his mouth. That same kitchen girl from before appears with a plate that she sets down next to him and uncovers. He murmurs a thank you, gives her a tight smile and watches her leave. This sort of visit has happened more than once it would seem.
"Used to work in the kitchens," Roa murmurs quietly as the last of the redfruit is cut and set on her plate. "Good with knives, if not the sort you're used to using." She sets her bowl onto the edge of the plate and carefully slides...well, slithers...off the stool. Her feet hit the ground with a thump as she picks up the plate and carries it over to set it across from R'en. The chair across from him is pulled out, and Roa slowly lowers herself down into it. "Center of balance has gone all wonky," she complains.
"Good enough with those too. Should be, anyway." By the time she's slithered off her stool he's picked up a fork and started stabbing at random vegetables without any real conviction. When she appears across from him he stops to watch her plate come down, her sitting, with the utensil poised. Center of balance. "Oh," he supplies lamely. Well there she is, then. "Uh." His eyebrows twitch. "So."
There she is. Roa, redfruits, and mustard. The first picks up a wedge of the second, dips it into the third, and eats it. What's more, she chews with the sort of quiet pleasure of one who genuinely enjoys what they're eating. After she swallows, Roa steals a glance over to her table partner. "I know you're mad at me," she offers simply enough. "I know things between us are different now. Just wanted you to know, if you need anything you can still...I'm still..." Roa's words peeter off and conclude in a small, self-conscious shrug.
Somehow his own food just doesn't seem as interesting as hers. Or as watching her eat it. The corner of his mouth pulls up and his nose wrinkles. /Really/? Then she starts talking and he drops his eyes immediately to start stabbing at vegetables again. Poor vegetables. As she goes on he gets more and more tense, his thrusting more and more violent until finally he stops and looks at her. "You're still what? Gonna lie t'me whenever you think it's convenient for you? Whenever you think it's gonna cause the least amount o'trouble?" He doesn't yell. He just demands.
Her hands lace together and rest on the edge of the table as she examines her own plate. They match now, both staring at objects other than the ones on their minds. "Sometimes," Roa admits, "same as you're still going to make yourself the martyr as soon as any opportunity presents itself."
The word martyr earns her a 'ch' sound that sums up his feelings about /that/ rather nicely. "Yeah, well. Rather be a martyr than send someone else in t'do what I should be doin' myself." After this R'en tightens his jaw and shakes his head once, like shaking off a bad headache. "Can't come t'you as a friend when I can't trust you, simple as that."
"You said things were different. I figured that was pretty much how you meant it." Roa looks up, drawing in a careful breath as she studies the bronzeriding weyrling. "I gotta admit though, it sorta burns me up how you can run things any way you please, secrets and all, but you won't stand for anybody doing the same in return."
"You talkin' about the man I sent there t'keep an eye on things?" Now R'en will look at her, setting his fork down and leaning on his folded arm. "Was he a relation o'yours I wasn't aware of? Big brother maybe? Uncle? I could've sent Ashwin. He wouldn't've given it a second thought. Had half a mind to. How would that've made /you/ feel, your fella over there?" His eyes narrow. "R'vain told you anyway. Told you I got that letter too. Figured it'd be a little redundant, both of us sayin' somethin'."
Her gaze drops almost immediately at the mention of Ashwin and Roa nods. "Yeh, you could've. Yeh, he would've. And if the only reason you didn't was because of me, then you should have sent him. I know what it is to him, to keep his word, to do right by the men and the job. Accepted that a while ago." She nudges one of the redfruit slices with her knuckle. "R'vain told me about the man at Five Mines a month ago. And that was because of extenuating circumstances. I don't like that you didn't tell me. But it was your job. I trust you had your reasons."
"I didn't do it because o'you'n because while you know he'll always take his job first, /I/ know that he hates that he has to when it's between it'n you. So do I, so I didn't send 'im. I don't regret it, not once, not ever. You didn't like that I didn't tell you kinda like how I wouldn't've cared if you hadn't told me you sent some other rider, one I didn't know, one I didn't grow up with, one whose booboos I didn't kiss'n make better." On that last note R'en rolls his eyes, turns his head away. "You wanna know why this is different than anything else ever? 'Cause it's me. 'Cause I'm human'n when somethin' hits close t'home it hits harder." Turning back, but looking down at his plate again, he adds in a mutter, "If somethin' had happened t'her, anything..."
"She asked us to go. She /asked/. We didn't seek her out. We wouldn't have. If Ashwin had come to you and said 'I want to do this. It's important to me that you let me do this,' you would have said no?" Roa clenches her jaw and shakes her head. "I don't regret sending her, but I'm sorry I hurt you. Sometimes people you care about get to do dangerous things, too. I wasn't going to turn her away because she was your blood, same as I've let you risk yourself backwards and forwards because it mattered to you."
Again, the more she talks, the more tense he gets. Finally, he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. "I," it starts out soft anyway, "would've said /no/." And ends rather forcefully. "She fights /Thread/, Roa. Don't tell me she doesn't do enough that's that you had t'make 'er happy by sendin' 'er there. It's the wrong thing t'say and it sure as fuck ain't puttin' my mind at ease. If she doesn't think it's enough that she could die any given day that's her problem, not yours or mine. I risked myself 'cause it was /my/ job." Pause. Suddenly he's looking at her very directly. "But since you're dolin' out favors so readily, let me go."
"No." Simple and succinct, that one. "It's her life. It's her right to speak up. She fights thread. She sits in a wing and knows that for the rest of her life, folks are going to see the color of her dragon more than they'll see her brave deeds or her clever strategies. She could die up there, and how much of the Weyr would know anything more than we lost a greenrider? She knows danger. She knows when she's taking on more than she can chew and I believe now that she's learned that lesson, she asks when she's able to do something. Because she wants to be known and be remembered. You," Roa lifts up a hand and points her index finger towards R'en, "jump in headfirst and figure, 'well, if I drown, probably for the best anyhow'. Lying to get yourself thrown in a cell and likely executed was /not/ your job."
All of that falls on deaf ears, for R'en has passed this by already. Now there is only this one thing he cares about, this one thing. Again, in a flat, steady tone, he says, "Let me go." And, "I wanna be world famous too. Worth dyin' for. And I actually got business over there, don't I. All the more reason. You shouldn't have t'think more'n once on it."
"No," Roa says again. "You're probably going to leave anyhow, but I'll be damned if it's with my permission or consent. I don't want you going. I think you can do more good here and this is where we need you. No." The chair squeaks backwards as Roa nudges it far enough away from the table so that she can stand.
"So you'll let her leave but you won't let me leave? Why?" His eyes move once when she pushes away but they're alone amongst the rest of his body; all of that stays as motionless as it has been. "You didn't seem t'think about where she was needed when you sent 'er. Or who mighta cared that she was gone. Why should I care what you think /now/ when it's me?"
"Because she came back. Because she wanted to go to do a single task and return to the Weyr. Why do /you/ want to go, R'en?" Roa cants her head, hands curling into fists against her side.
"Same reason she wanted to. T'do a single task'n return t'the Weyr. T'prove you won't let me. And that whole famous thing's high up on my list too." Now it's R'en to stand, his plate and food forgotten. "Y'know, considerin' I told you as a friend all that stuff about me bein' afraid'n what I'm afraid of, how quick you are in not trustin' /me/ sorta hurts. Don't jump too far for those conclusions, darlin', not in your condition." Then, after a glance down at her plate and bowl, he adds, "Eat your stuff." That said, he makes sure he's the first one out of there.
"Considering you're lying to my face, gotta say, you don't make trusting you any more likely." Roa's 'thing' is shoved away and as R'en is the more spry of the two of them, he's allowed his exit. The weyrwoman will wait a good twenty minutes before she heads out and towards her weyr.
Time: Wee hours on Day 24, Month 11, Turn 3
Players: Roa and R'en
Scene: Late night finds two dragonriders in the kitchen. There's a lot of talking. Not too much listening,
Late night has become a routine time of wakefulness for the little weyrwoman. Cramping legs, sudden bursts of midnight activity from her midsection, and general insomnia combine to keep Roa from any sort of normal sleep schedule. Odd cravings and odder times for her stomach demanding them have pulled Roa from her bed and brought her down to the kitchen, still in her sleep-shirt and trousers. She has a sweater over the sleeveless shirt, but her feet are bare. She is perched on one of the stools, in the empty kitchen, cutting several redfruits into quarters on plate beside a small bowl of mustard.
Take away the cramping legs and the fidgety stomach creature and you have R'en. Not being able to sleep is normal for him, has been for some time now, so while he was going through the living cavern he got a few familiar nods from other late-night wanderers, fellow non-sleepers. They don't talk, they just acknowledge each other and move on in their zombie-like existence. In the kitchen now - in raggedy pajama bottoms and unlaced boots and a buttonless shirt underneath his open jacket - he pauses. Roa is unmistakable. But one of the very few kitchen workers has already seen him and given him the 'one moment' finger so he can't leave /now/. The deep breath he takes is a sigh and precedes him going to one of the other stools, sitting and hunching over with his elbows on the table.
She misses his entrance, but Roa doesn't miss the sigh. It has her peering upwards, knife stopped at mid-slice, and she swallows once at what she sees. Her gaze lowers again and she returns to cutting up her second redfruit. She motions ae a bit faster, now, and she again glances around, her gaze settling on some of the covered plates and baskets meant for transporting goods from place to place.
So she's cutting faster /and/ she isn't paying attention. When R'en inevitably looks over at her he notices. Not only that, he also takes a moment to recognize the food items in front of her. Fruit. Mustard. "Should probably be careful with that," he mutters into the hands he has clasped in front of his mouth. That same kitchen girl from before appears with a plate that she sets down next to him and uncovers. He murmurs a thank you, gives her a tight smile and watches her leave. This sort of visit has happened more than once it would seem.
"Used to work in the kitchens," Roa murmurs quietly as the last of the redfruit is cut and set on her plate. "Good with knives, if not the sort you're used to using." She sets her bowl onto the edge of the plate and carefully slides...well, slithers...off the stool. Her feet hit the ground with a thump as she picks up the plate and carries it over to set it across from R'en. The chair across from him is pulled out, and Roa slowly lowers herself down into it. "Center of balance has gone all wonky," she complains.
"Good enough with those too. Should be, anyway." By the time she's slithered off her stool he's picked up a fork and started stabbing at random vegetables without any real conviction. When she appears across from him he stops to watch her plate come down, her sitting, with the utensil poised. Center of balance. "Oh," he supplies lamely. Well there she is, then. "Uh." His eyebrows twitch. "So."
There she is. Roa, redfruits, and mustard. The first picks up a wedge of the second, dips it into the third, and eats it. What's more, she chews with the sort of quiet pleasure of one who genuinely enjoys what they're eating. After she swallows, Roa steals a glance over to her table partner. "I know you're mad at me," she offers simply enough. "I know things between us are different now. Just wanted you to know, if you need anything you can still...I'm still..." Roa's words peeter off and conclude in a small, self-conscious shrug.
Somehow his own food just doesn't seem as interesting as hers. Or as watching her eat it. The corner of his mouth pulls up and his nose wrinkles. /Really/? Then she starts talking and he drops his eyes immediately to start stabbing at vegetables again. Poor vegetables. As she goes on he gets more and more tense, his thrusting more and more violent until finally he stops and looks at her. "You're still what? Gonna lie t'me whenever you think it's convenient for you? Whenever you think it's gonna cause the least amount o'trouble?" He doesn't yell. He just demands.
Her hands lace together and rest on the edge of the table as she examines her own plate. They match now, both staring at objects other than the ones on their minds. "Sometimes," Roa admits, "same as you're still going to make yourself the martyr as soon as any opportunity presents itself."
The word martyr earns her a 'ch' sound that sums up his feelings about /that/ rather nicely. "Yeah, well. Rather be a martyr than send someone else in t'do what I should be doin' myself." After this R'en tightens his jaw and shakes his head once, like shaking off a bad headache. "Can't come t'you as a friend when I can't trust you, simple as that."
"You said things were different. I figured that was pretty much how you meant it." Roa looks up, drawing in a careful breath as she studies the bronzeriding weyrling. "I gotta admit though, it sorta burns me up how you can run things any way you please, secrets and all, but you won't stand for anybody doing the same in return."
"You talkin' about the man I sent there t'keep an eye on things?" Now R'en will look at her, setting his fork down and leaning on his folded arm. "Was he a relation o'yours I wasn't aware of? Big brother maybe? Uncle? I could've sent Ashwin. He wouldn't've given it a second thought. Had half a mind to. How would that've made /you/ feel, your fella over there?" His eyes narrow. "R'vain told you anyway. Told you I got that letter too. Figured it'd be a little redundant, both of us sayin' somethin'."
Her gaze drops almost immediately at the mention of Ashwin and Roa nods. "Yeh, you could've. Yeh, he would've. And if the only reason you didn't was because of me, then you should have sent him. I know what it is to him, to keep his word, to do right by the men and the job. Accepted that a while ago." She nudges one of the redfruit slices with her knuckle. "R'vain told me about the man at Five Mines a month ago. And that was because of extenuating circumstances. I don't like that you didn't tell me. But it was your job. I trust you had your reasons."
"I didn't do it because o'you'n because while you know he'll always take his job first, /I/ know that he hates that he has to when it's between it'n you. So do I, so I didn't send 'im. I don't regret it, not once, not ever. You didn't like that I didn't tell you kinda like how I wouldn't've cared if you hadn't told me you sent some other rider, one I didn't know, one I didn't grow up with, one whose booboos I didn't kiss'n make better." On that last note R'en rolls his eyes, turns his head away. "You wanna know why this is different than anything else ever? 'Cause it's me. 'Cause I'm human'n when somethin' hits close t'home it hits harder." Turning back, but looking down at his plate again, he adds in a mutter, "If somethin' had happened t'her, anything..."
"She asked us to go. She /asked/. We didn't seek her out. We wouldn't have. If Ashwin had come to you and said 'I want to do this. It's important to me that you let me do this,' you would have said no?" Roa clenches her jaw and shakes her head. "I don't regret sending her, but I'm sorry I hurt you. Sometimes people you care about get to do dangerous things, too. I wasn't going to turn her away because she was your blood, same as I've let you risk yourself backwards and forwards because it mattered to you."
Again, the more she talks, the more tense he gets. Finally, he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. "I," it starts out soft anyway, "would've said /no/." And ends rather forcefully. "She fights /Thread/, Roa. Don't tell me she doesn't do enough that's that you had t'make 'er happy by sendin' 'er there. It's the wrong thing t'say and it sure as fuck ain't puttin' my mind at ease. If she doesn't think it's enough that she could die any given day that's her problem, not yours or mine. I risked myself 'cause it was /my/ job." Pause. Suddenly he's looking at her very directly. "But since you're dolin' out favors so readily, let me go."
"No." Simple and succinct, that one. "It's her life. It's her right to speak up. She fights thread. She sits in a wing and knows that for the rest of her life, folks are going to see the color of her dragon more than they'll see her brave deeds or her clever strategies. She could die up there, and how much of the Weyr would know anything more than we lost a greenrider? She knows danger. She knows when she's taking on more than she can chew and I believe now that she's learned that lesson, she asks when she's able to do something. Because she wants to be known and be remembered. You," Roa lifts up a hand and points her index finger towards R'en, "jump in headfirst and figure, 'well, if I drown, probably for the best anyhow'. Lying to get yourself thrown in a cell and likely executed was /not/ your job."
All of that falls on deaf ears, for R'en has passed this by already. Now there is only this one thing he cares about, this one thing. Again, in a flat, steady tone, he says, "Let me go." And, "I wanna be world famous too. Worth dyin' for. And I actually got business over there, don't I. All the more reason. You shouldn't have t'think more'n once on it."
"No," Roa says again. "You're probably going to leave anyhow, but I'll be damned if it's with my permission or consent. I don't want you going. I think you can do more good here and this is where we need you. No." The chair squeaks backwards as Roa nudges it far enough away from the table so that she can stand.
"So you'll let her leave but you won't let me leave? Why?" His eyes move once when she pushes away but they're alone amongst the rest of his body; all of that stays as motionless as it has been. "You didn't seem t'think about where she was needed when you sent 'er. Or who mighta cared that she was gone. Why should I care what you think /now/ when it's me?"
"Because she came back. Because she wanted to go to do a single task and return to the Weyr. Why do /you/ want to go, R'en?" Roa cants her head, hands curling into fists against her side.
"Same reason she wanted to. T'do a single task'n return t'the Weyr. T'prove you won't let me. And that whole famous thing's high up on my list too." Now it's R'en to stand, his plate and food forgotten. "Y'know, considerin' I told you as a friend all that stuff about me bein' afraid'n what I'm afraid of, how quick you are in not trustin' /me/ sorta hurts. Don't jump too far for those conclusions, darlin', not in your condition." Then, after a glance down at her plate and bowl, he adds, "Eat your stuff." That said, he makes sure he's the first one out of there.
"Considering you're lying to my face, gotta say, you don't make trusting you any more likely." Roa's 'thing' is shoved away and as R'en is the more spry of the two of them, he's allowed his exit. The weyrwoman will wait a good twenty minutes before she heads out and towards her weyr.