You amble northwestwards to the bright and cheerful living cavern.
L'in ambles in from the center bowl.
L'in's whistle stops abruptly when he sees who's in the cavern. "Oh oh." he whispers, making a big loop through some of the tables where Fortians sit. "'Scuse me, 'scuse me. Sorry. 'Scuse me."
With hands dug deep into pockets, and a loose, oddly lengthed shirt hung over tunic - hanging too short, to create an odd clothing sensation - Ilesyn strides amiably into the living caverns from the lower caverns, her broken whistle not quite of screeching quality, although it's close enough. The woman finds herself a mug of something hot - probably, but not definitely, klah - raising her head mildly to watch the caverns. L'in, and his loop, are noticed, but comments are avoided. Well, mostly. "Well."
Avila is seated pretty much in the center of the Living Cavern. Unavoidable, you might say. She's poking at her mostly eaten dinner, nodding dully to a young resident who is going on and on about his mother's sister's best friend's recipe for mashed tubers and how it's much, much better than what's served in the caverns here. As L'in enters, Avila turns, watching L'in circle as the tuber girl's discourse falls on deaf ears. "Ummm....hullo." She actually mumbles it. If he heard her is another question.
L'in stops with one boot raised, poised in the air as his step is halted. A quick look over his shoulder toward both women preceeds his own quick "Hullo." The young lad at the table close to where he is, chuckles, shaking his head. L'in's rebuttal is to narrow his eyes, staring at the lad as his boot thumps onto the floor.
Ilesyn randomly - yes, randomly. Completely randomly - ends up sitting down at the same table as Avila, and the tuber-freak. Oh-so-innocently, she leans forward to listen to the exchange, short though it is, her expression reminiscent of a poker. Or is that just a poker face? "How very cordial." So she comments, to herself, busying herself with the hot liquid in her mug.
Well. He spoke. Avila glances over to Ilesyn with a plantive look. What a time for every move to be analyzed! Taking a deep breath, she attempts just a little more, letting it all come out in a rush. "Ummm, Shoshana told me you were leaving and going to Far Reaches and, umm, well, goodbye and I'll miss you. I guess." That done, head ducks down again, suddenly enthralled by the remnents of dinner on her plate.
L'in couldn't be more stunned. Did he just hear what he /thought/ he heard? His eyes speak that clearly, along with the expression on his face. Eyes darting from Ilesyn to Avila then back to the healer, he just blinks for a few times. "Oh." Stunning conversationalist these days. "J'van's not sent any word back yet." As if that said it all. "You'll," he chokes, raising a sleeve to his mouth briefly, "miss me?"
Ilesyn's reaction to Avila's glance is to be all the more interested, her expression evidently intended to indicate that she's watching and listening to every move, and analyzing the lot. More interesting is that which is said, to which she leans forward, noting conversationally, "Far Reaches is pretty cold. Supposed to be beautiful, though." L'in's eye movements towards her earn a broad smile, as she shuffles her position again.
Avila looks up again, her face unreadable. "Well, yeah. I guess," she answers to L'in. Not much of a conversationalist herself, hmm? Turning back to Ilesyn, she smiles a bit hesitantly. Whew. Someone to break the tension... not Ilesyn's usual job. "Cold. That it is. Better pack a sweater. Windy, too, isn't it? Sweeps will be pretty bitter." Back to the tubers on her plate.
L'in repeats, "You guess? Really?" The brownrider seems genuinely surprised, taking a few tentative steps toward the pair. Not to let the conversation change just yet, he tries another question. "Why?" Now he's near Ilesyn, returning her smile with one of his own and a polite nod.
"Wine probably freezes," adds Ilesyn, thoughtfully, prompting going silent for meditive consideration. "At least, it might." She's more interested, however, in the other, less ice-breaking areas of conversation. "That's right, L'in, find out. Delve deep into these words. You'll make a mindhealer yet." Meanwhile, she busies herself with her mug, wrapping fingers about it as she holds it up towards her lip.
"Why? Well, I'd pack a sweater because it's cold. I thought it was self evident." Avila clears her throat self-consciously, reaching for her klah. "I mean, you could get sick. Catch a cold. That'd be bad, because there'd be no one up there to take care of you." She glances over to the pair and then back down at her food. That's what he meant, wasn't it? Although it /was/ a pretty silly question.
L'in blinkety-blinks, a very dumb expression on his face as he listens to Avila's answer. "I didn't mean why should I pack a sweater, I meant why would you miss me? I thought," a pause comes as he drags a chair out from under a nearby table and sits down on it, "you were ready to slice me up into little pieces, not miss me." He's here for a while, it seems, in case that wasn't clear. Legs stretch out, the left heading for Ilesyn's foot if it stays where it is.
Ilesyn's foot, oblivious of any impending doom, stays exactly where it is. Meanwhile, the control center of that foot, not to mention the rest of Ilesyn, causes another shift forward in interest. "That'd probably make it colder. To be sliced up into little bits, I mean. Harder to keep warm."
"Oh. That." Avila gives a tight-lipped, nervous smile. "Umm, well, just that even though you've been a total dimglow, it'll be sad knowing you're not around. But I suppose that as angry as Jalis is with you, you really have no choice." Avila shrugs a little, giving Ilesyn a very odd look. "I suppose he'd have to bring a /lot/ of sweaters then... although I don't think I'll slice him up. Just... say g'bye." Avila glances up to L'in very briefly before biting her lip and looking down again, poking at the now cold vegetables.
L'in mutters again, folding his arms on his belly. "Jalis angry. I don't think it's just Jalis who's upset with me. Seems I get the prize for being a wherry's butt, huh? I don't think I'd need sweaters if I was sliced up in pieces. It'd be a permanent cold that I wouldn't care much about, if that were the case."
Ilesyn merely nods sagely. "Oh, definitely. I imagine...well, even Jalis would be willing to wrap sweaters around you, if you were in little tiny pieces." Probably to throw them off a cliff or something, but...That isn't the point. She yanks her feet away from their previous position, shifting her own position, and then notes, "We always knew you were a wherry head, L'in. It's obvious."
"Wherry's butt pretty much describes it, yeah." Avila's voice holds a bit of an edge, but she's not picking a fight. Instead, it's more of a hurt tone, resigned, even. "Can't say I'm thrilled with you at the moment, but circling 'round each other like two wet felines isn't all that great either, is it? Especially if this is my chance to say goodbye." Avila turns back to Ilesyn, raising her brow. "This is long-standing? A trend? His tendancies? I mean, I could expect more behavior like this... if he wasn't leaving that is."
L'in makes an odd face at Ilesyn, nose wrinkling. "I thought mindhealers were supposed to be supportive? /That/ doesn't sound anywhere near supportive!" Then a huff preceeds, "You don't have to be so agreeable, Ilesyn! And it is /not/ a trend!" Now there's a bigger hmmph, arms tightening around that belly as his chin juts out defiantly. "And I wasn't the /only/ one at fault!"
Ilesyn shrugs her shoulders, apparently making the decision now to avoid verbalising anything. "I don't know. Maybe." Evidently, that doesn't last for long, since she breaks that up within moments. "Oh, but L'in, being agreeable is what I do best. It's...just in my nature." Her smile gleams with some kind of peculiar radiance or enjoyment. "Quite possibly, Avila," she agrees, at length. "I mean, he's a man."
Oh, this won't endear L'in back to Avila. "/I/ was at fault? I'd like to know how?" Such a good time to have a mindhealer at her elbow. "Ilesyn. You tell /me/ who was at fault here." She takes a deep breath, ready to spill everyone's guts. "See, L'in got mad at me because nearly /three/ turns ago, he found out I had a brief mistaken, well, encounter with a man that he had /heard/ maybe was weyrmated at the time. He got all disappointed at me even though he had a rather interesting history of encounters as well. And then, said man visited me in my weyr and I asked him to talk to L'in to explain. And he jumped to conclusions, assumed I'd taken up with him again and found one someone else to bed!" Seems Avila's getting fired up again, running through the scenario. "Tell me what was my fault in /any/ of this? I mean, he should be grovelling! Jewelry would be nice, too. And /then/ he can leave." Avila folds her arms over her chest as well, chin jutting out. "I know. Men. I'm looking for a feline. Maybe three or four or even more."
L'in sighs, shaking his head. "Women. Might as well not try to reason with them." he mutters, rising out of his chair to walk over to the serving table. Nothing like drowning your sorrows out with dessert. And that he does, filling a plate up. "Haven't we been through this 'enough', Avila? I'm sure Ilesyn doesn't want to hear the sordid details." Riiight. Wishful thinking.
Ilesyn'd be better off being silent now. Much better. Unfortunately, that life lesson never made it into her brain, and as a Mindhealer, she's apparently obliged to sate her opinion as of now. Quite seriously, she listens to Avila's tirade, and then, glancing between greenrider and brown, "Actually, no, I'm interested to hear, L'in. And it seems to me that--well, men can't listen, and women can't forgive." Wise? Or stupid?
Avila sticks out her lip. Oh, this is all /so/ unfair! "I only asked what I did wrong! I mean, you said I wasn't the only one that was at fault." She's even getting a tinge of self-righteousness here. "If someone would /only/ explain what /I/ did wrong, /I'd/ apologize and try to set things right. But no one's been able to tell me.... and no one's apologized, either." Humrph.
L'in walks back toward the table, but his steps are hesitating. He sucks off a fingertip after popping a pastry piece into his mouth. "I don't see what the big deal is. I'll be gone soon and you won't have to deal with me anymore. Out of sight, out of mind. Right, Ilesyn?"
Ilesyn is all sweetness and light. Indeed, it's enough to enduce a saccharine overdose. "*I* think you should kiss and make up. After all, it isn't L'in's fault that he doesn't trust anyone, and it certainly isn't Avila's fault that she doesn't know how to forgive and forget. Thus, the two probably cancel each other out. And, really," she hesitates, glancing between the two, "I don't want you to go up to the 'reaches and die because your heart is frozen, L'in." Is that an answer?
Avila lets her fork down on that one. "Die? do people die up there?" People die everywhere, but suddenly, 'reaches seems incredibly ominous. "And I /can/ sorta forgive, and kinda forget. I've done it before." Seems a necessary skill with the menfolk around here. "I just want to know that /I'm/ not being blamed. And that he's sorry and that it's not a trend and if that /does/ happen, I won't have to burn the dartboard." Avila levels a look at L'in, and then, as if she'd just remembered something, shrugs. "Ah, but you might as well give it up, Ilesyn. He's gonna leave. It's easier, you see."
L'in scowls at Ilesyn's remedy, looking at her as if she had two heads. "I never said I didn't trust anyone, Ilesyn. It's just that sometimes 1 + 1 /does/ = 2. I don't have a frozen heart either. See?" He pounds at it a few times with his fist, coughing slightly. "If there's anything I'm sorry about it's that I lost a friend that I had. And a friend who makes /really/ good pastries." The kissing part is glossed over, as well as the cancelling out.
Ilesyn snorts. "Men, always taking the easy way out." Avila's comment is met with this, and a nod, her eyes rolling. Her other head--no, rather, her head is turned to watch L'in, scorn evident. "Sounds frozen to me," she retorts, dryness overtaking other expression within her voice, "That cough and all." Her arms cross in front of her, mug discarded for more interesting persuits. "Seems hard, to give up those pastries, don't you think, Avila? Poor martyr of a man."
Avila sighs, rolling her eyes back to Ilesyn. "I should just introduce him to Alfredo in the kitchen. He made most of those pastries anyway." A pause, and a bit of a hurt look. "And I didn't know that was my main attraction - pastries. So, ummm, what's Jalis' talent? As I don't think she makes pastries at all?" There's a sigh, and she shakes her head sadly. This isn't going well at all. "I'm trying, Ilesyn," she offers plaintively. "But I think it's hopeless." A glance back over to L'in, with those waif eyes. "Frozen. Must be."
L'in isn't sure if he should take Ilesyn's martyr comment as one for his side or not. Questioning brows shoot up at that, head tilting to the side. "I never said I was that. I just, uh, miss the good times. That's all. And it's /not/ frozen." The last part said to both women. He does hesitate, though, connecting with the waif eyes, before clearing his throat. "If you ask me, there's enough been said about this to last a lifetime, so why not just change the subject? I'll be gone, maybe not come back after the ice and snow turns Honeath and me into a lifeless mass. Lots of riders don't return from that duty. Won't have to worry about making me anything when that happens. Hmmph."
Ilesyn's lips twitch, head nodding towards Avila. "Better do that, and then he can eschew female company altogether. Pastries and wine, that's all *he* needs." Another nod, as the Mindhealer sighs: "I think you're right. Hopeless. Entirely hopeless." L'in earns a pitying glance, head shaking very slowly. "Frozen. Freezing. Dying. -- What do you want to change the subject to, then? How cold it is up north? I imagine it's pretty easy to go to sleep and never wake up again. Brr. I wouldn't go there for *anything*."
Avila glances over to Ilesyn, and then sighs deeply, speaking to L'in. "That's what I meant when I said I'd miss you. I miss the good times." There's resignation in her voice, and she pulls her plate and mug together, stacking it for clearing. "But I think you're right, Ilesyn. It's hopeless. I won't talk about it anymore, as you're set on leaving it all as it is, and going up north to freeze your ... umm, self." A pause, and then she tilts her head, wrying stating, "Nice weather, hmm? Nicer than Far Reaches..."
L'in again denies. "That's not /everything/ I need! Jays, Ilesyn. There's more to life than pastries and wine!" There's no mention of what else, though. A quick look goes to Avila. "Maybe we should have some kind of party for when I leave. Or before it. You know, happy /he's/ getting out of your hair and all that?"
"What?" says Ilesyn, blandly, "Women? I thought you gave up those with *that* attitude." Digits play against each other, and against the cool ceramic smoothness of her mostly-empty, but otherwise cold mug. "Oh, a party." Sarcasm suits her. "How fine. We'll all drink, and eat pastries, and then kick L'in out into the cold. Charming idea."
Avila turns to Ilesyn with a raised brow. "That's mighty self-denigrating, don't you think? A party to celebrate his departure?" Avila turns to L'in with a sigh. "If you want more pastries, just ask. Or ask Alfredo. You don't have to figure out a way to make everyone happy you're leaving. Seems you're the only one convinced that we are..."
L'in gives Ilesyn a nose-wiggle and frown, his turn to roll his eyes. "Well it seemed like a good idea. You know, celebrate what we /had/ and all that, just in case I..." his voice drops off, maybe for effect, then he begins again, this time to Avila. "I want more pastries."
Ilesyn's head nods. "Very," says she, snorting again. One gets the impression that either she's very emotionally involved, now, or just likes to put on the act for the sake of results. "Just in case you want more pastries? Faranth, can't you get them yourself? Men!"
Avila glances over to Ilesyn. "Well, I suppose I could talk to Alfredo. See if I could scrounge up a few odds and ends." She's not about to go all out for someone that's about to leave anyway. Still... there's hope. "Probably don't need a whole party..."
L'in bites into one of the pastries he has on his plate, forgotten until now. "I didn't mean the ones we have /here/, I meant the ones /Avila/ makes. How can I get something that's not here yet?" His head shaking shows he thinks the healer's daft. Or close to it. "What's wrong with a whole party? You think I'm not worth it, Avila?"
Ilesyn snorts. It's an art, like everything else, and she does it exceptionally well. "Faranth's nose hairs, I give up. Who wants a party, anyway? They're bad for a person's selfworth. Makes them feel important, even if they're just wherryheaded idiots." And with that, leaving her mug for someone else to clean up - it's better, that way, for the grand exit - she struts into the infirmary. Point made, but probably not particularly well.
Posted by Louise at January 29, 2003 01:53 AM