[Log] A is for Apple.
Who: Laelle and R'en.
What: Food.
Where: The lake, onna rock.
When: ...
Southern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
Here the lake dominates the bowl floor, wind-scattered waves lapping at the gravel shore. A few scrawny shrubs to the southeast mark the fenced-in enclosure of the feeding grounds, bordered on its southwestern edge by the lake itself. Following the wall here will lead to the entrance to the weyrling complex and, past that, the stairs that lead to the guest weyr. On the other side of the lake is a vast, yawning tunnel curving upwards slightly, connecting to the long road leading away from High Reaches Weyr. Adjoining the exit is the high arch of the infirmary entrance.
Autumn seems made for windy days such as this one. It's cool and crisp, and there are plenty of brilliantly shaded leaves to be picked up and spun about.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Laelle
Obvious Exits:
Caucus Barracks (CB) Dragon Barracks (DB) Northern Bowl (NB)
Infirmary (INF) Guest Weyr (GW) Weyrling Complex (WC)
Feeding Grounds (FG) Exit Tunnel (ET)
As autumn's evening draws close, the light fades from the sky casting the spotty, swift-moving clouds in shades to rival the changing leaves. Most of the Weyr is either currently in the living cavern for dinner or making their way their. Most of the Weyr. But of course, not everyone rushes to join the crowd. By the lakeside, sitting on a rock with an apple and piece of buttered bread, is Laelle. Her coat is buttoned up and she wears a long, pale scarf.
She would be. And hey, so would he. It's a freshly bathed R'en that comes to join her by her rock by the lake, with his hands in his pockets and his long legs making for long strides. Seconds bring him to her, a breeze ruffles his hair and there they are. "Hey," he greets her, tilting his head to give her a slanted mouth that isn't a smile but isn't a grimace, either. Sehkrath is nowhere in sight, though if she'd been around earlier and recognized she would have noticed he was hunting so now, probably, is sleeping the sleep of the deeply drunk on food.
Laelle looks up with a twist over her shoulder to spot R'en. "Hello," she tells him, lack of expression likely expected. Her focus flicks behind him, probably looking for the missing bronze, but then shifts back to the man to give him a once over. She takes a bite of her bread.
During his once over, R'en stands there. No doubt he assumes any good once over requires stillness on the receiving party's end. After she takes her bite he sedately removes his eyes from her face and mutters while watching the lake, "There was a time I'd be annoyed t'tears by your bein' so mild, but after the week I've had a little mildness is nice." The cool drink of beer after the terrible, terrible day at work.
Laelle doesn't seem at all offended by this assessment. She cants her head towards the space beside her on the rock. "You can sit," she tells him evenly. "There's room." She takes another bite of her bread and folds the remaining portion in half. "If you've a knife," which, well, lets face it, he probably does, "I'll split the apple with with you."
Her offers earn her another look, this one with the additon of drawn eyebrows. It isn't a pleasant look on the surface, the appreciation's all in the eyes. Without saying a thing he rounds to the other side of the rock and sits beside her on it, making himself comfortable with a grunt and shift of his rear on a not-so-comfortable surface. Still wordless, he also brings the knife he does indeed carry out and puts his other hand over for the apple, please. The blade's going to be overkill.
Laelle passes the apple without saying anything and rolls her latest bite of bread and butter around in her mouth, chewing and swallowing as her eyes drift out to the lake. A stiff breeze whips by and flips the length of her scarf over R'en's hands.
It's such a simple thing that he should just be able to get past it without even a second thought. But when the tickle of her scarf brings his eyes down he's stuck staring like he's never seen anything like this long thing she's wearing and why's it doing that? She isn't looking at him; he looks at her, calm blue eyes made grey by the shirt under his jacket and the /way/ he's looking at her. Very carefully he pulls his hands out from beneath the bit of fabric and clears his throat once. The next sound will be the crunch and slice of the knife through the fruit and then the crack of a wedge being broken. He offers this first one over to her, leaning so she can see. See?
She takes the slice, "Thanks," but just holds onto it. If Laelle has even noticed that her scarf has blown over him, or that it struck him so unusually, she doesn't let on. She takes another, and last, bite of the bread before offering the remainder over to him without comment.
Bread's eyed. After a little reorganizing of knife and apple he reaches for it with a hand made free of things. It's taken with the same silence, chewed on too with the same silence. Seconds later, still chewing, he cuts again, rolling the apple around with long fingers and guiding the sharp bit of the blade like an old pro because he /is/ an old pro. There's a bump on the inside of his cheek. This next slice he gives her too, having to duck under her scarf again.
"Slow down," Laelle tells him simply. She's only now taking a bite of the first slice, and just a bite, but she relieves of the second he's offered. She takes a long, deep breath through her nose and then turns a little to look at him sidelong, eyes starting at his face and the falling to his lap where her scarf lies. She could move it, reclaim it, but doesn't.
He could move it, tell her to keep it off him, but he doesn't. He does slow down, though, with another of those looks that says 'fine, fine' and a little lingering glance when he realizes she's looking at him. R'en's eyes narrow and he swallows, cutting into the apple again but not deep enough to get another piece from it. "What." Not suspicious, no, just... what.
Laelle returns her eyes to his face, steady and calm as they meet his gaze. "Up to you," she answers plainly. She brings that slice of apple up and snaps off another bite.
Not narrow anymore, his eyes lift to some spot above her head. "Don't think'm as well-versed in you as I was." But they squint at her now. "Might have t'help me out with this one." The knife hand lifts, angled so it isn't so dangerous when he brings a bit of apple up for himself.
"You're the one who's had a bad week," Laelle points out. "You can talk if you want." She pops the last bit of the slice in her mouth and pushes it to her cheek so she can add, "You don't have to." And to give him time to consider such things without her observation, she spares a quick glance for the flash of his blade and then turns her attention to the wind-swept water again.
/Oh/. /That/. It's all over his face. "Nnh," says R'en, so eloquent sometimes, while he chews. There's a lot of crunching and another swallow. Then, staring down at the knife in his hands, turning it over to get a look at the other side and generally stalling, he waits. For something. Finally, "It's a big thing'n it's nothin' all at once. Feel like a fool talkin' about it outside o'what it is."
"Well," Laelle says, untroubled. "It's up to you." She licks a bit of juice from the side of her middle finger, a quick and efficient swipe of her tongue, then she puts her hand gingerly on the rock between them as she shifts her weight and changes the close cross of her legs.
There's another bump against his cheek-- this time it's his tongue and it's a thoughtful bump while he watches, so casually, her tongue. "I know," he murmurs. Has she ever been pushy? No, not with him. But then, has R'en ever shown much willpower when it comes to talking to her or not? No, not really. "They sent my sister someplace'n didn't tell me."
Laelle starts in on the second slice, just as slowly as the first, one bite at a time. "There's been talk," she says flatly, unimpressed by the chattering of the masses. "I'd imagine there aren't all that many places to which a visit would necessitate such secrecy. Of course, I'm not privy to all the Weyr's clandestine dealings." With this she slips another glance at him.
Her glance, R'en's doubletake when he sees it. 'Pff' is first, then, "None o'them told me. Miniyal did." Which isn't a correction for her supposings and imaginings. Yes, it was Five Mines. "Didn't even tell me. They keep sayin' it's cause she asked, said it's 'cause she wanted t'be more'n just a greenrider. Still don't see how that makes not tellin' me any better."
"She didn't tell you either," she supposes, watching as he doubletakes as if she might absorb the meaning of it. If she does, it paints no change on her expression, or lack thereof. "You've spoken to them?" Them.
"Oh." His eyebrows go /up/ and suddenly there's a little uplifting of his mouth. "I've spoken to 'em. Not that it matters. They're right'n I'm wrong'n there's nothin' I can do'r say t'make that not true. Just means I can't trust 'em is all." Which, oddly, he doesn't seem so broken up about. Then again the outside doesn't always add up with the inside. "How're you?" It's sudden, the change of topic, but R'en might just need it.
"Well enough," Laelle replies. But though her mild manner may mask some of her inclination to push, it doesn't stop her from doing so. "You've asked them the reason?" But she adds in, a beat late, "Don't pout." And with that she holds the last bite of her apple slice up that he might take it with his teeth.
Oh, that mask. So deceptive! By the time she gets to her pushing he's got another slice ready, smaller than the first few; when he looks up to find she's giving him hers he gives her a very not-poutlike smile and, crossing his arm past hers, offers /her/ one in return. But now his mouth is full so he must chew enough to speak. "For not tellin' me? Yeah. 'Cause they figured I'd go over there."
Difficult as ever, while she may feed him one piece of apple, Laelle takes the other with her fingers instead of her lips. A quirk of something pulls at the corner of her mouth; it only lasts a moment and then is lost as she takes a bite and chews slowly. "Why would you go over there?"
Really, he would have been surprised to see her do anything but. /He/ was just fine being fed hand to mouth, though, thanks. "Oh," he swallows, "I wouldn't've. If they'd just told me I could've known enough t'keep track o'the fact that she was there a month. I would've known if somethin'd happened'n /then/ maybe I would've gone over there. Maybe they're so used t'me jumpin' int' things without thinkin', they just assume that's all I know how t'do."
Laelle is quiet for a long moment, her apple seemingly forgotten in her fingers as she watches him. And then she ceases to watch him and her eyes fall on some random spread of pebbles along the lakeside. "To keep you from worrying, they'd have had to lie," she muses, mostly to herself. "They could have told you she was off at some Weyr for one benign reason or another. They didn't do that." There is a sense that her words are wondering, hunting for the ever illusive intention behind human behavior. She turns again to look to him for a reaction.
She may have forgotten her apple, but R'en hasn't forgotten his. Not that there'll be much left of it soon. Again he slices into the hunk of slowly drying fruit in his hand, lifts that hand so he can catch a trail of juice with his mouth before it gets to his wrist. There's a wet sound, suction on dry skin, then he resumes. "Could've. Didn't." He's all manner of agreeing. "Doesn't matter. Their choice. Not much I can do about it." Which is very defeatist, but then he's had enough.
Laelle, for all appearances, does not intend to change his mind on the matter. She eyes him as he tends his trickling juice and then glance below that hand. "Don't get it on my scarf," she reminds him. She holds her fingers out for another slice.
'Don't get it on my scarf' R'en mimes, making a face at her when he passes her what she wants. He's just so mature. Silent again save for his cutting, he stares down at the fruit in his hands and makes this next wedge extra, extra precise.
Laelle ignores that face and repetition. This last piece of apple she doesn't bite but just sucks on, asking him around it, "What now?" with a slow arch of her brow.
Always the most dreaded question, 'what now?' is usually first answered with a long-suffering look. Why'd she have to bring in the 'what now?' "I dunno. We could go jump off a cliff. Hangin' might be fun." But there's no heart in it this time and R'en gives the apple one last poke with his knife before letting it drop to the ground in front of their rock. "Or you could hit me as hard as you can'n I could sleep for few hours," he mutters, wiping the knife off on the very bottom of his pantleg.
"I meant for you. For them," Laelle expands, but there's a twist on her lips anyway and that brow is still cocked as she looks over him. "I don't hit very hard," she promises. "You'd be disappointed." Then her gaze slips down him to the knife again.
The knife that, even once it's clean of apple bits, he still handles. "Oh. For them, well, reckon they do what they do. Been told this won't be the last time somethin' like this happens, so. For /me/, uh." R'en pauses, furrows his brow and stares down at the blade. "Guess I do what I do'n try ignorin' 'em best I can 'til I can get outta here."
For most of his answer, Laelle is watching that blade in his hand, but his end comment snaps her eyes back to his face. "Out of here? You'd ask for a transfer over this?" Her gaze is sharp, keen, and then those smoky lids narrow and she wonders, "Why do you want me to hit you?"
"This, other things. Fresh start." Other things. Mostly other things. Her question draws his eyes up to meet hers and there's a little surprise when he finds them so narrowed, so sharp. "Uh, I don't. But I guess if I did I'd rather that t'you stickin' somethin' sharp in me. If I had my choice." Pause. "I wasn't serious when I said it, but you can if you want. 'M a good friend that way." Here, he'll tap his jawline, pointing it out for her. See how nice and punchable he is?
Laelle looks at that displayed cheek as if she considers... something. There isn't a single flinch in her that suggests a hand might take him up on his offer, but she certainly gives the line of his jaw a moment's thought. "You'd leave?" she asks again, though surely he's just given her that answer.
No? Well then he'll make it so that part of his face isn't so clearly facing her, looks at her more directly instead. "I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't considered it a time'r two. Not much for me here I can't pack up'n take with me. Tavaly's on a dragon, she can Between. My folks'll always be a blink away no matter where I am. Riann'd need visits with R'vain but that's nothin' I can't arrange." No, he hasn't thought about this at all. Scratching that jaw of his now, he shrugs a shoulder and sends his knife home to its sheath at his hip. "Can't do much leavin' right now, though, so."
Laelle turns toward him as well, eyes on him as a hand reaches for his lap and lands over the scarf across his thigh. "Where would you prefer to be? Someplace warm?" Her finger close and she drags the scarf from his leg as she stands and swings it loosely around her neck.
She might as well have just asked him if he wanted money. He wouldn't have heard her, for all of his attention is on the hand right there, the one that just got personal. "Uh." She said /something/. She's pulling away next and he's swallowing quickly. "Warm," he agrees quickly. "Been to an island. Liked that okay. Maybe someplace with somethin' other'n fish'n fruit though 'cause that got old." When R'en gets nervous, he gets chatty. "Riann's pale though, red hair'n all she'd burn quick if I wasn't careful."
"I guess you have time to consider it," Laelle says, something vaguely dissatisfied in her voice despite all this nerves and chatting. "I should be getting back. I'm cold and I have to study."
And even if he can pick up on that weird vibe he can in no way identify it more precisely than that so R'en, somewhat bemused by this sudden exit, sits there and watches her. "Can-- I walk you?"
And so they are both bemused, as Laelle cants her head for his offer, a beat's pause before she answers. "If you like." She takes another full breath and turns her sights across the bowl toward the Caucus barracks.
Well he must like, because he's getting up and giving his rear end a few slaps to get rid of whatever rock dirt might be clinging to him. Then, with his hands back on his lower back somewhere and his eyes down on her - down, now - he stands there, looking, before finally turning and starting them off in the direction she needs. They've found their way back into his pockets, his hands.
Laelle folds her arms together, head down as they start off. For all that she doesn't seem inclined to bring up any particular topic of conversation, neither does she seem to be in a hurry; her stride is long and easy, strolling.
He matches it. If he didn't, he'd be hurrying by default and probably a few steps ahead of her by now. They continue along in silence for a few minutes of their journey together, then R'en says, "You had that look you get when I say somethin' wrong."
"I have a look?" Laelle asks, turning just enough to catch a glimpse of him. "Do you say wrong things so often?"
"I admit it's one o'my better recognizable attributes," R'en allows, tilting his head a little and keeping his eyes on the path ahead except for one glance her way. "Y'have a few looks. There's one you get when you're riled'n one you get when you're surprised, when I was touchin' you, 'n what you get when I say somethin' wrong." Pause. "They're all sorta similar."
Depending on the timing of his one glance, Laelle may appear to absorb his descriptions of her without reaction. Or he may catch that when he mentions touching her, there is a fleeting but certain lift of her eyebrows. "I don't believe you've said anything 'wrong'," she says as if the whole discussion of her expressions had simply not happened.
Fleeting and certain, he got it. Cue another - minor - doubletake, too. "No? Then I guess I don't have you all the way pegged afterall." But there's a little smile, there, for his /never/ having had her pegged. It's never happened and he knows it. It'll only be minutes before they gain their destination.
"No." Reiterated. The rest of her reaction happens only on the inside. As they approach the entrance to the Caucus commons, Laelle slows a little more. "You should go eat a real diner. Thank you for walking me." All very polite and such. She pauses by the tunnel, ready to take her leave.
"Nah." Real dinners are for the weak. Though he should say something and walk away, just walk away, R'en takes one of his hands out and moves it in to touch the back of his finger to her cheek and trail it down.
She lets him, standing still for a moment and watching him with close attention as his knuckle strokes over her cheek. She makes no protest and maybe, just maybe, she turns her head by some barely perceptible fraction to give him that cheek.
That she lets him makes him quirk a smile at her, a vague little smile at that. When his hand drops away he tucks it back into its pocket and says, very wryly, "Happy studyin'." And he's turning away to probably do what she said and find himself some real dinner.
"Good night," Laelle tells him, and then she turns to disappear down the Caucus tunnel.
What: Food.
Where: The lake, onna rock.
When: ...
Southern Bowl
The bowl floor is a broad expanse of gravel and dust, packed flat over decades of dragonweight landing on it. Kept free of vegetation, the only color variation across the vast hollow of the bowl are the dragons, in good weather often found sunning on low ledges or sprawled along the floor itself. The well-worn, charcoal-grey walls of the bowl are nearly vertical, far too steep for even the most adventurous climber to attempt. The rim of the bowl, marked by a rainbow of perching dragons at all times of the day, is topped with massive stone spires that stretch upwards into the blue vault of the sky. There are seven in all, great black fingers of stone that seem, from where you stand, to touch the clouds.
Here the lake dominates the bowl floor, wind-scattered waves lapping at the gravel shore. A few scrawny shrubs to the southeast mark the fenced-in enclosure of the feeding grounds, bordered on its southwestern edge by the lake itself. Following the wall here will lead to the entrance to the weyrling complex and, past that, the stairs that lead to the guest weyr. On the other side of the lake is a vast, yawning tunnel curving upwards slightly, connecting to the long road leading away from High Reaches Weyr. Adjoining the exit is the high arch of the infirmary entrance.
Autumn seems made for windy days such as this one. It's cool and crisp, and there are plenty of brilliantly shaded leaves to be picked up and spun about.
This room may be +watched (+help watch).
Contents:
Laelle
Obvious Exits:
Caucus Barracks (CB) Dragon Barracks (DB) Northern Bowl (NB)
Infirmary (INF) Guest Weyr (GW) Weyrling Complex (WC)
Feeding Grounds (FG) Exit Tunnel (ET)
As autumn's evening draws close, the light fades from the sky casting the spotty, swift-moving clouds in shades to rival the changing leaves. Most of the Weyr is either currently in the living cavern for dinner or making their way their. Most of the Weyr. But of course, not everyone rushes to join the crowd. By the lakeside, sitting on a rock with an apple and piece of buttered bread, is Laelle. Her coat is buttoned up and she wears a long, pale scarf.
She would be. And hey, so would he. It's a freshly bathed R'en that comes to join her by her rock by the lake, with his hands in his pockets and his long legs making for long strides. Seconds bring him to her, a breeze ruffles his hair and there they are. "Hey," he greets her, tilting his head to give her a slanted mouth that isn't a smile but isn't a grimace, either. Sehkrath is nowhere in sight, though if she'd been around earlier and recognized she would have noticed he was hunting so now, probably, is sleeping the sleep of the deeply drunk on food.
Laelle looks up with a twist over her shoulder to spot R'en. "Hello," she tells him, lack of expression likely expected. Her focus flicks behind him, probably looking for the missing bronze, but then shifts back to the man to give him a once over. She takes a bite of her bread.
During his once over, R'en stands there. No doubt he assumes any good once over requires stillness on the receiving party's end. After she takes her bite he sedately removes his eyes from her face and mutters while watching the lake, "There was a time I'd be annoyed t'tears by your bein' so mild, but after the week I've had a little mildness is nice." The cool drink of beer after the terrible, terrible day at work.
Laelle doesn't seem at all offended by this assessment. She cants her head towards the space beside her on the rock. "You can sit," she tells him evenly. "There's room." She takes another bite of her bread and folds the remaining portion in half. "If you've a knife," which, well, lets face it, he probably does, "I'll split the apple with with you."
Her offers earn her another look, this one with the additon of drawn eyebrows. It isn't a pleasant look on the surface, the appreciation's all in the eyes. Without saying a thing he rounds to the other side of the rock and sits beside her on it, making himself comfortable with a grunt and shift of his rear on a not-so-comfortable surface. Still wordless, he also brings the knife he does indeed carry out and puts his other hand over for the apple, please. The blade's going to be overkill.
Laelle passes the apple without saying anything and rolls her latest bite of bread and butter around in her mouth, chewing and swallowing as her eyes drift out to the lake. A stiff breeze whips by and flips the length of her scarf over R'en's hands.
It's such a simple thing that he should just be able to get past it without even a second thought. But when the tickle of her scarf brings his eyes down he's stuck staring like he's never seen anything like this long thing she's wearing and why's it doing that? She isn't looking at him; he looks at her, calm blue eyes made grey by the shirt under his jacket and the /way/ he's looking at her. Very carefully he pulls his hands out from beneath the bit of fabric and clears his throat once. The next sound will be the crunch and slice of the knife through the fruit and then the crack of a wedge being broken. He offers this first one over to her, leaning so she can see. See?
She takes the slice, "Thanks," but just holds onto it. If Laelle has even noticed that her scarf has blown over him, or that it struck him so unusually, she doesn't let on. She takes another, and last, bite of the bread before offering the remainder over to him without comment.
Bread's eyed. After a little reorganizing of knife and apple he reaches for it with a hand made free of things. It's taken with the same silence, chewed on too with the same silence. Seconds later, still chewing, he cuts again, rolling the apple around with long fingers and guiding the sharp bit of the blade like an old pro because he /is/ an old pro. There's a bump on the inside of his cheek. This next slice he gives her too, having to duck under her scarf again.
"Slow down," Laelle tells him simply. She's only now taking a bite of the first slice, and just a bite, but she relieves of the second he's offered. She takes a long, deep breath through her nose and then turns a little to look at him sidelong, eyes starting at his face and the falling to his lap where her scarf lies. She could move it, reclaim it, but doesn't.
He could move it, tell her to keep it off him, but he doesn't. He does slow down, though, with another of those looks that says 'fine, fine' and a little lingering glance when he realizes she's looking at him. R'en's eyes narrow and he swallows, cutting into the apple again but not deep enough to get another piece from it. "What." Not suspicious, no, just... what.
Laelle returns her eyes to his face, steady and calm as they meet his gaze. "Up to you," she answers plainly. She brings that slice of apple up and snaps off another bite.
Not narrow anymore, his eyes lift to some spot above her head. "Don't think'm as well-versed in you as I was." But they squint at her now. "Might have t'help me out with this one." The knife hand lifts, angled so it isn't so dangerous when he brings a bit of apple up for himself.
"You're the one who's had a bad week," Laelle points out. "You can talk if you want." She pops the last bit of the slice in her mouth and pushes it to her cheek so she can add, "You don't have to." And to give him time to consider such things without her observation, she spares a quick glance for the flash of his blade and then turns her attention to the wind-swept water again.
/Oh/. /That/. It's all over his face. "Nnh," says R'en, so eloquent sometimes, while he chews. There's a lot of crunching and another swallow. Then, staring down at the knife in his hands, turning it over to get a look at the other side and generally stalling, he waits. For something. Finally, "It's a big thing'n it's nothin' all at once. Feel like a fool talkin' about it outside o'what it is."
"Well," Laelle says, untroubled. "It's up to you." She licks a bit of juice from the side of her middle finger, a quick and efficient swipe of her tongue, then she puts her hand gingerly on the rock between them as she shifts her weight and changes the close cross of her legs.
There's another bump against his cheek-- this time it's his tongue and it's a thoughtful bump while he watches, so casually, her tongue. "I know," he murmurs. Has she ever been pushy? No, not with him. But then, has R'en ever shown much willpower when it comes to talking to her or not? No, not really. "They sent my sister someplace'n didn't tell me."
Laelle starts in on the second slice, just as slowly as the first, one bite at a time. "There's been talk," she says flatly, unimpressed by the chattering of the masses. "I'd imagine there aren't all that many places to which a visit would necessitate such secrecy. Of course, I'm not privy to all the Weyr's clandestine dealings." With this she slips another glance at him.
Her glance, R'en's doubletake when he sees it. 'Pff' is first, then, "None o'them told me. Miniyal did." Which isn't a correction for her supposings and imaginings. Yes, it was Five Mines. "Didn't even tell me. They keep sayin' it's cause she asked, said it's 'cause she wanted t'be more'n just a greenrider. Still don't see how that makes not tellin' me any better."
"She didn't tell you either," she supposes, watching as he doubletakes as if she might absorb the meaning of it. If she does, it paints no change on her expression, or lack thereof. "You've spoken to them?" Them.
"Oh." His eyebrows go /up/ and suddenly there's a little uplifting of his mouth. "I've spoken to 'em. Not that it matters. They're right'n I'm wrong'n there's nothin' I can do'r say t'make that not true. Just means I can't trust 'em is all." Which, oddly, he doesn't seem so broken up about. Then again the outside doesn't always add up with the inside. "How're you?" It's sudden, the change of topic, but R'en might just need it.
"Well enough," Laelle replies. But though her mild manner may mask some of her inclination to push, it doesn't stop her from doing so. "You've asked them the reason?" But she adds in, a beat late, "Don't pout." And with that she holds the last bite of her apple slice up that he might take it with his teeth.
Oh, that mask. So deceptive! By the time she gets to her pushing he's got another slice ready, smaller than the first few; when he looks up to find she's giving him hers he gives her a very not-poutlike smile and, crossing his arm past hers, offers /her/ one in return. But now his mouth is full so he must chew enough to speak. "For not tellin' me? Yeah. 'Cause they figured I'd go over there."
Difficult as ever, while she may feed him one piece of apple, Laelle takes the other with her fingers instead of her lips. A quirk of something pulls at the corner of her mouth; it only lasts a moment and then is lost as she takes a bite and chews slowly. "Why would you go over there?"
Really, he would have been surprised to see her do anything but. /He/ was just fine being fed hand to mouth, though, thanks. "Oh," he swallows, "I wouldn't've. If they'd just told me I could've known enough t'keep track o'the fact that she was there a month. I would've known if somethin'd happened'n /then/ maybe I would've gone over there. Maybe they're so used t'me jumpin' int' things without thinkin', they just assume that's all I know how t'do."
Laelle is quiet for a long moment, her apple seemingly forgotten in her fingers as she watches him. And then she ceases to watch him and her eyes fall on some random spread of pebbles along the lakeside. "To keep you from worrying, they'd have had to lie," she muses, mostly to herself. "They could have told you she was off at some Weyr for one benign reason or another. They didn't do that." There is a sense that her words are wondering, hunting for the ever illusive intention behind human behavior. She turns again to look to him for a reaction.
She may have forgotten her apple, but R'en hasn't forgotten his. Not that there'll be much left of it soon. Again he slices into the hunk of slowly drying fruit in his hand, lifts that hand so he can catch a trail of juice with his mouth before it gets to his wrist. There's a wet sound, suction on dry skin, then he resumes. "Could've. Didn't." He's all manner of agreeing. "Doesn't matter. Their choice. Not much I can do about it." Which is very defeatist, but then he's had enough.
Laelle, for all appearances, does not intend to change his mind on the matter. She eyes him as he tends his trickling juice and then glance below that hand. "Don't get it on my scarf," she reminds him. She holds her fingers out for another slice.
'Don't get it on my scarf' R'en mimes, making a face at her when he passes her what she wants. He's just so mature. Silent again save for his cutting, he stares down at the fruit in his hands and makes this next wedge extra, extra precise.
Laelle ignores that face and repetition. This last piece of apple she doesn't bite but just sucks on, asking him around it, "What now?" with a slow arch of her brow.
Always the most dreaded question, 'what now?' is usually first answered with a long-suffering look. Why'd she have to bring in the 'what now?' "I dunno. We could go jump off a cliff. Hangin' might be fun." But there's no heart in it this time and R'en gives the apple one last poke with his knife before letting it drop to the ground in front of their rock. "Or you could hit me as hard as you can'n I could sleep for few hours," he mutters, wiping the knife off on the very bottom of his pantleg.
"I meant for you. For them," Laelle expands, but there's a twist on her lips anyway and that brow is still cocked as she looks over him. "I don't hit very hard," she promises. "You'd be disappointed." Then her gaze slips down him to the knife again.
The knife that, even once it's clean of apple bits, he still handles. "Oh. For them, well, reckon they do what they do. Been told this won't be the last time somethin' like this happens, so. For /me/, uh." R'en pauses, furrows his brow and stares down at the blade. "Guess I do what I do'n try ignorin' 'em best I can 'til I can get outta here."
For most of his answer, Laelle is watching that blade in his hand, but his end comment snaps her eyes back to his face. "Out of here? You'd ask for a transfer over this?" Her gaze is sharp, keen, and then those smoky lids narrow and she wonders, "Why do you want me to hit you?"
"This, other things. Fresh start." Other things. Mostly other things. Her question draws his eyes up to meet hers and there's a little surprise when he finds them so narrowed, so sharp. "Uh, I don't. But I guess if I did I'd rather that t'you stickin' somethin' sharp in me. If I had my choice." Pause. "I wasn't serious when I said it, but you can if you want. 'M a good friend that way." Here, he'll tap his jawline, pointing it out for her. See how nice and punchable he is?
Laelle looks at that displayed cheek as if she considers... something. There isn't a single flinch in her that suggests a hand might take him up on his offer, but she certainly gives the line of his jaw a moment's thought. "You'd leave?" she asks again, though surely he's just given her that answer.
No? Well then he'll make it so that part of his face isn't so clearly facing her, looks at her more directly instead. "I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't considered it a time'r two. Not much for me here I can't pack up'n take with me. Tavaly's on a dragon, she can Between. My folks'll always be a blink away no matter where I am. Riann'd need visits with R'vain but that's nothin' I can't arrange." No, he hasn't thought about this at all. Scratching that jaw of his now, he shrugs a shoulder and sends his knife home to its sheath at his hip. "Can't do much leavin' right now, though, so."
Laelle turns toward him as well, eyes on him as a hand reaches for his lap and lands over the scarf across his thigh. "Where would you prefer to be? Someplace warm?" Her finger close and she drags the scarf from his leg as she stands and swings it loosely around her neck.
She might as well have just asked him if he wanted money. He wouldn't have heard her, for all of his attention is on the hand right there, the one that just got personal. "Uh." She said /something/. She's pulling away next and he's swallowing quickly. "Warm," he agrees quickly. "Been to an island. Liked that okay. Maybe someplace with somethin' other'n fish'n fruit though 'cause that got old." When R'en gets nervous, he gets chatty. "Riann's pale though, red hair'n all she'd burn quick if I wasn't careful."
"I guess you have time to consider it," Laelle says, something vaguely dissatisfied in her voice despite all this nerves and chatting. "I should be getting back. I'm cold and I have to study."
And even if he can pick up on that weird vibe he can in no way identify it more precisely than that so R'en, somewhat bemused by this sudden exit, sits there and watches her. "Can-- I walk you?"
And so they are both bemused, as Laelle cants her head for his offer, a beat's pause before she answers. "If you like." She takes another full breath and turns her sights across the bowl toward the Caucus barracks.
Well he must like, because he's getting up and giving his rear end a few slaps to get rid of whatever rock dirt might be clinging to him. Then, with his hands back on his lower back somewhere and his eyes down on her - down, now - he stands there, looking, before finally turning and starting them off in the direction she needs. They've found their way back into his pockets, his hands.
Laelle folds her arms together, head down as they start off. For all that she doesn't seem inclined to bring up any particular topic of conversation, neither does she seem to be in a hurry; her stride is long and easy, strolling.
He matches it. If he didn't, he'd be hurrying by default and probably a few steps ahead of her by now. They continue along in silence for a few minutes of their journey together, then R'en says, "You had that look you get when I say somethin' wrong."
"I have a look?" Laelle asks, turning just enough to catch a glimpse of him. "Do you say wrong things so often?"
"I admit it's one o'my better recognizable attributes," R'en allows, tilting his head a little and keeping his eyes on the path ahead except for one glance her way. "Y'have a few looks. There's one you get when you're riled'n one you get when you're surprised, when I was touchin' you, 'n what you get when I say somethin' wrong." Pause. "They're all sorta similar."
Depending on the timing of his one glance, Laelle may appear to absorb his descriptions of her without reaction. Or he may catch that when he mentions touching her, there is a fleeting but certain lift of her eyebrows. "I don't believe you've said anything 'wrong'," she says as if the whole discussion of her expressions had simply not happened.
Fleeting and certain, he got it. Cue another - minor - doubletake, too. "No? Then I guess I don't have you all the way pegged afterall." But there's a little smile, there, for his /never/ having had her pegged. It's never happened and he knows it. It'll only be minutes before they gain their destination.
"No." Reiterated. The rest of her reaction happens only on the inside. As they approach the entrance to the Caucus commons, Laelle slows a little more. "You should go eat a real diner. Thank you for walking me." All very polite and such. She pauses by the tunnel, ready to take her leave.
"Nah." Real dinners are for the weak. Though he should say something and walk away, just walk away, R'en takes one of his hands out and moves it in to touch the back of his finger to her cheek and trail it down.
She lets him, standing still for a moment and watching him with close attention as his knuckle strokes over her cheek. She makes no protest and maybe, just maybe, she turns her head by some barely perceptible fraction to give him that cheek.
That she lets him makes him quirk a smile at her, a vague little smile at that. When his hand drops away he tucks it back into its pocket and says, very wryly, "Happy studyin'." And he's turning away to probably do what she said and find himself some real dinner.
"Good night," Laelle tells him, and then she turns to disappear down the Caucus tunnel.