Secluded corner away from the world (F'ur

[dragon]

Life. It went on. Strangely enough, it always did. So long as one was alive to notice this interesting fact, anyway.

The mainhall had the usual in between meals activity, which wasn't much. But Dorava didn't have the inclination for even that much ... company. So she had found herself a seat in the corner with her meal. A plate that housed a hunk of juicy, tender roast, drowned in gravy and sided by chunked, boiled tubers. Also drowned in more of the same runny, brown gravy. A soft roll sat on the edge of the plate. Presumably with the mission of soaking up gravy after the meal was eaten. In any event, it was busily doing so with a corner of it's bottom.

Or, at least, getting soggy.

Because she certainly wasn't eating the meal. Stooped over low, she was writing on a piece of parchment with industriousness. Writing ... she hadn't done it in ages. Ages and ages. As a result, her henscratch was less than perfect. But at least she had a good handle on reading, and at one time had been passable at writing.

Faranth, that was a long time ago.

The meal had sat there long enough that it had chilled somewhat, no longer steaming as it had been. If it was stirred it might yet steam again, but for the moment it was an inanimate observer to her hurried scratching on the parchment.

Val was with her, curled up in her breastband out of sight from the world. But otherwise, Dorava was completely alone. Aonith was off and napping in the sun at the top of the cliff, and Love was sprawled out upside down on Mandyr's back, who was curled up between Aonith's eyes again.

Yay, green stack.

She was willing to leave them to it. For now. She was busy, and had a lot more to do yet. Biting her lip, she scratched out a section of text and started over at the tail end of it.

[Requiem]

Dinner. His stomach was telling him quite loudly that the nibbling he'd done a couple hours ago was not near enough to satisfy it, and small wonder; it had hardly been satisfied for more than a candlemark at a time for all his life since puberty. There were many thoughts and random bits of emotional upheaval that had filtered through his mind earlier that day, and still more things that had been considered and discussed, but at this point in time it was all quiet. He did, however, find it somewhat amusing that she'd gone to his ex-lover, ex-betrayer, ex-friend. And clearly the man was either feeling the guilt or he desired to restore at least that last title, despite recent events that had crippled his knee. (No, F'ur didn't know why Sel'n seemed unphased by it, and likewise he wasn't about to divulge the true nature of his thoughts toward the brownrider, not when the older man's conscience was benefitting the bluerider so well at present.)

Perhaps fortunately, this latest had little enough to do with Sel'n.

So, as he walked across the dining hall, it was for a particular greenrider that he searched and not for food - not quite yet. The man slipped along silently, bare soles finding the cool stone refreshing. And there was little enough of the usual good humor, half-mocking though it was, in his face as he found a chair beside her, twisting it about to sit straddling the back, his arms folded loosely over the top. And yes, he felt it necessary to guard his genitals, though one would have thought after turns had passed that she'd quite forgotten her grudge. But then, she was a woman, wasn't she? Now it seemed his genitals had done her another disservice, poor victim of a woman that she bemoaned herself, though never claim her weak. Oh no. She'd take offense at that. Did she have to embody everything he despised in a woman so much?

The despise was absent from his tone - as it always was, given they rode in the same wing and it did no one any good to be openly feuding in such a situation - as he peered over at her paper. "What is it that you're writing?" He could read, of a sort, but no better than the average man with neither wealth nor blood to make him more than common. It seemed as good a start as any. Of course, at any moment he could bite her head off for daring to get pregnant. Or snap her neck. Or bust her nose. Nevermind that it was really too early for her to be sure...so why she'd been in such a tizzy to start with was beyond him. The sardonic thoughts passed with their usual coolness.

And then, because there was food just sitting out there going untouched and cold in the bargain, he arched a brow and nodded toward it. "If you're not going to eat that, I think I will." The polite thing to do would be to wait for a response, but, really, it would be easy enough to get her another portion if she truly wanted it. F'ur was not angry at her, per se - though if he had been he'd probably have had a right to the emotion - but after hearing from Sel'n what she'd proposed to the brownrider, he felt very little inclination toward playing at civility. The roll was torn in half before she could answer, the man still half-squinting at the parchment from where he sat, chewing idly on the bread after using it to soak up a small portion of the gravy.

[dragon]

Dorava's eyes slid sideways at the sound of feet approaching and then the chair being moved, turned, and filled. F'ur. Why did that not surprise her? She set the writing stick down, and straightened her her seat, turning the rest of her head to regard him in silence as he appeared to take interest in what she was doing. Dorava was willing to bet it was a ruse. Feigned interest at best. She was pretty certain her writing skills were not why he'd come all the way over here to her corner of the hall.

"I was asked by a couple of different wingleaders to work up some lessons." She answered, simply, only slightly nodding as he made comments toward her meal. It wasn't like he wasn't going to just take it ... again ... and it wasn't like she could stop him. Dorava wasn't even willing to try and stop him. It was just a meal, and she knew she'd only lose. So, instead, she just gave permission where it wasn't required.

In lieu of saying or doing anything else - there was no way she could work on the materials with him sitting that close to her - she just waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. He'd either get around to whatever he was up to, or he'd leave, she was pretty sure.

[Requiem]

At her permission, he slid the plate over toward himself, chewing on the roast and making a little thoughtful hming noise. "Mi'rah and Sel'n, no doubt. Inocenth says the bronzerider seems to be taking an interest in you. What's the topic?" Ever curious, the bluerider, though perhaps not as openly so as his weyrmate. He ignored her rather sullen look, as it was nothing he wasn't used to, and instead leaned over to get a good glance at it, the chair legs rocking back onto the floor. "First aid? One would hope the people on our wing already knew the basics of that. Bleeding is bad. Don't stick the nasty intestines back in. If there's a pointy stuck in your eyeball don't pull it out...it likes to take your eye with it." He shot a wry smile at her. "Not that I've seen anyone get a knife to the eye that just stopped at the eye, but it's a nice little concept, just the same."

Taking another bite, he relaxed a bit more, considering she hadn't gone into fight or flight mode this time. Yet. Still, the balls of his feet didn't leave the ground in case he needed to be up and moving on short notice. "At the least it solves the mystery of the lost appetite in the Amazon woman. Has anyone ever told you that you could put a smith to shame?" Clearly F'ur's appetite wasn't the least bit diminished by the topic of first aid, blood and guts, or even Dorava and her supposedly - purportedly, presumably - baking bun. (Now that was a nauseater, that one.) "To which you're supposed to make some suitable comeback about how small and thin I am. Possibly something along the lines of, has anyone ever told you that when you turn sideways a body can't see you at all?"

And so the rest of the roll disappeared in short order. He turned his dark eyes directly to her face, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "I don't suppose anyone saw fit to tell you that Sel'n is a good, old friend of mine. We shared furs regularly for three turns, though that's quite awhile ago now." So he lied a touch, calling Sel'n 'good' and 'friend' in the same sentence, but he didn't figure it really did any harm. "I do hope you didn't think him straight when you took him to bed with you." A wry chuckle. "So I suppose the question I have for you, Dorava, is how sure are you of this? It seems far too quick to know, but then, I'm no woman so I'm a poor judge."

[dragon]

Sometimes, Dorava had to wonder why F'ur bothered with half what he did. Asking questions, and then not bothering to wait for the answers. She rolled her eyes slightly, and just laced her fingers together, trying to be patient as he snooped into everything. Everything. There was no where the man wouldn't stick his huge honking nose! "Yes, Sel'n and Mi'rah." She answered. It was pretty obvious he already knew, so there was no point in contradicting him. Though the concept of Mi'rah taking a shine to her was certainly unexpected. It was shelved quickly, however, as just another one of F'ur's twisted mental games. Trying to get a rise out of her was all he was doing, all that baiting. She wasn't in the mood to play his mind games. There were never any right answers anyway. However ... she had to speak up on the bit about eyes though. "They don't just pop out." Dorava said, picking up her writing stick again, and idly making a note in the margins of her parchment. A few, quick numbers. "Eyes are actually very well attached to their sockets and are a pain in the ass to get out. Intact or as jelly. If you have a problem with the topic, take it to Mi'rah. I'm just following orders." That, he should be able to understand. In theory.

His attempt at mockery of humor had her writing stilled again, and Dorava looked over at him once more, waiting for him to finish with his own return pun, digging in on her meal at the same time. Annoying. The man didn't know how to be anything but. "If you turned sideways I bet I could still see your nose." She countered, before going back to scribbling in the margins. Take that as he would, she had no idea how he would react to it. Jest, insult, observation, she had no clue how he'd take it. But she'd find out soon enough.

But when he started talking about Sel'n, she ceased all movement entirely, acutely aware of anything and everything he said on the topic. There, that was the other shoe. However ... shardit. Dorava breathed out through her nose. "Thank you for informing me of who I cannot trust." She answered, before setting down the stick again, and straightening again. Lacing her fingers together, she looked over at him. He was ready to spring, it was obvious. In which direction, she couldn't tell. But that alone was enough to have her worried, even if she did her level best to not show it. "I had no illusions to his orientations." She answered, slowly and carefully. However, the news that Sel'n and F'ur had been partners for any length of time ... she could kick herself so very hard. No wonder Sel'n had blabbed everything. It was what she got, for trying to get help. What she got, for assuming she had a friend - if only tentatively. No wonder Sel'n had been so quick to defend F'ur and his interests. It had more behind it than just males sticking up for each other, apparently. It made her sick. Especially since she knew darn good and well that Sel'n had known darn good and well that she hadn't wanted F'ur to know. Any of it. So what did he do? Go straight away to blab. It was only a few candlemarks ago that she'd spoken to the man! That wasn't even purportedly enough time for her to supposedly go talk to F'ur herself, as Sel'n had wanted. Underhanded, the whole sharding thing.

"For your information, since I don't know what he told you and what he didn't, I don't know anything for certain. You don't have to worry your head about it, either, F'ur. You're not in any danger of becoming a father. At least, not by me. Maybe you should go talk to F'lix, if you're so inclined." She turned her gaze back to her parchment again, suddenly quite disinclined to do Sel'n any kind of favor.

[Requiem]

Pop out. Get scrambled. Whatever. F'ur didn't really know or care, considering the likelihood of his eye getting impaled - or anyone else's - without the sharp object scrambling his brains as well was pretty slim. He did know not to remove it, which was enough. Of course, Dorava rarely passed up a chance to make her potshots, even when he'd generously given them to the greenrider himself. That made him smile, in fact, an amused little quirk of the mouth. His nose, was it? A shame. And here he thought he could strike out of nothing, if only he could turn sideways to become invisible. Sharding noses screwing up those boyish fantasy worlds again.

F'ur's eyes narrowed slightly, but then he mentally shrugged. If Sel'n had been worried about Dorava finding out that he'd told F'ur, he wouldn't have told the bluerider in the first place. Or at the very least would have mentioned it. Although it sure didn't take the woman long to place the slight at his door, now did it? "Personally, I'd thank him, in your shoes. It's better in the long run for you not to play games with me." The first truly serious comment of the conversation, from the man. He was something of a constant tease, after all, but it served his purposes well enough and he had no inclination to change it. F'ur had been...beyond irritated at the first, which did not bode well for an extended attempt at deception, once it had been found out. But a thought was a thought was a thought, and though an intention was nearly as good as a deed, it was more readily forgivable. At least, in the light of pushing ahead with the business at hand.

The mouthy little wench. Clearly, despite the fear that sent her scuttling off to Sel'n and hatching harebrained plots, she really hadn't leanred much of anything from their first meeting, had she? Was he allowed to try to throw her into a wall for that, he wondered? Apparently it was fine for her to attack people for words, but not for him to respond to said attack with a physical blow of his own. The usual female drivel. It really wasn't his fault she couldn't succeed at her frail little attempts. The anger rose and dipped behind the stony darkness of his gaze, and then his lips twisted into a sarcastic smile. "Why don't we just assume you weren't being bitchy and were trying to be helpful with that comment, for the sake of public appearances."

It was tempting to point a knife at her, to see if she'd shy back or suddenly get brave and stupid again, but that kind of defeated his purpose here. Give them an inch...he'd been quite amiable, hadn't he? Quite. "I can't say as I follow you. It was merely a question of how sure you were of the pregnancy. And, as it so happens, I have spoken with my weyrmate." As if she hadn't meant it to be some sort of insult. F'lix, F'ur was sure, was quite glad he wasn't a woman. And F'ur was, too. "He's not altogether pleased - and you can hardly blame him, though I'm sure you will find a way - that you might be carrying my child." An understatement. "I had to convince him that it wasn't our affair what you choose to do with your body or your maybe child that I won't be a father of." Heavy sarcasm there.

The plate had by now been pushed away, his arms folded around the chair, partially to maintain his control over the urge to backhand her. Trying to be nice and not get in the way of her...how had Sel'n put it? Dream? Fantasy? Childish idea of a family and hugs when she had no man to share it with? Well, maybe the child would hug her. Maybe she'd get lucky and it would have her wits, and not know any better. "I came to tell you, girl, that - if you are pregnant - keep or get rid of the child as you will. The babe's no concern of mine, and I won't be a part of it's life either way. In fact, should you have a child, I'd respectfully ask that you not name me to it. Little as our love for each other is, you might be able to grant me that, at least."

[dragon]

As far as Dorava was concerned, F'ur could go grovel at Sel'n's feet and thank him till he turned blue in the face. She wasn't going to. Sel'n had completely ruined her shot at making this whole thing go away with never a word said to anyone and no one being any the wiser that thoughts were ever thought. She also thought that comment about playing games was rather hypocritical of him. Not that she expected any different out of F'ur. He could play games with everyone else's heads and lives, but don't you dare even think of playing any games with his! Nooooooo. That just wasn't right. Apparently he could dole it out, but couldn't handle his own medicine. Dorava found that funny, and couldn't help a wry smirk. Seemed F'ur was just a bully.

Which only came to point yet again with his very next comment. That she didn't bother to reply to again, because she was learning there really was no point in talking to F'ur. He never heard what she said, instead twisting it into something else entirely to suit his fancy and mock her with. She had been being helpful, not bitchy. He'd simply said 'the situation' , before, and she had no idea what version of the situation he had. So she'd clarified what 'the situation' was, before answering it. Duh. Clearly, he wasn't listening. She hadn't even used a tone, so it wasn't that which had set him off. He just ... liked getting mad, apparently. Opening her mouth just gave him ammunition, so she didn't. Let him think what he would, she couldn't change his mind anyway.

"How sure I am?" She asked, at the new question. "I'm pretty sure. It's not going to happen. I told you that." Again, not listening to what she said. Clearly, he just liked the sound of his own voice, hearing himself talk. And get excited ... over what? Was he seriously getting his non existent undies in a wad over wanting just exactly what she had been trying to give him? Anonymity? He really did make no sense! What was the point in saying all that? Dorava just effected a shrug, fiddling with her stick and letting him spout his mouth off in any way he pleased. Let him get it out of his system. Sharding straight he had no business telling her what she could and couldn't do with her own body. It was her life, not his. Dorava started scratching at the edge of the parchment with the tip of her stick, coloring the corner in, waiting for him to finish. "As you wish, F'ur." Dorava answered, when he finally finished ... with both his speech and her lunch. She looked at the plate for a moment, and then at him. It was probably well that he had eaten it ... for between the emotional turmoil earlier in the day and now being confronted with F'ur ... she really had no stomach for food.

Probably wouldn't eat again till the next day, more than likely. "Satisfied?"

[Requiem]

He was pretty sure. He was beating. His head against a wall. What was he doing here, anyway? Sel'n said she'd made her choice, F'lix didn't want her mothering any of his kids, and F'ur honestly...would rather it be any other woman on the face of Pern. This latest meeting only further cemented that. She wasn't understanding what he was saying at all, was she? No, of course not. If he wanted to explain it to her, he'd have to do it step by painful step, as one might talk to a toddler, and then with no real hope of success. And for what? So that she could have her baby that she wanted, and F'lix could have his peace that he wanted without a Dorava to disturb it? And what did F'ur want? He wasn't sure. He really wasn't sure at all. Maybe it was silly to think of the maybe child - and she still hadn't really answered his question as to whether or not she actually was pregnant - as living, but he didn't want to be the reason for the death of a child of his. That much he knew. His own brand of selfishness.

And it was just enough of a driving force to keep him here to try one more time to be nice to the thrice-bedamned woman who still didn't get what he was trying to do. This was exactly what she'd wanted, when she went to Sel'n, wasn't it? To have a kid without him involved. Well, almost what she wanted. He knew about it now, but so what? He would have known anyway. Hard to mistake a pregnant woman for anything else, and that she couldn't have hidden from him indefinitely, not on the same wing.

"Dorava." There was a weary undertone to his voice. Gesturing vaguely to his face, he commented, "Put this sullen, snarly little thing away for a moment. And listen. Sel'n told me what you wanted, okay? I don't know where you get the idea that I'm going to beat you up or kill you because you might be pregnant. I'm not sure what you've decided to interpret our first meeting as, and I honestly don't care that much. I've never attacked - outside of training - anyone who hasn't attacked me first. Understand? You're safe. I don't love you, or even like you, and I sure don't like that you might be pregnant. It's hardly ideal for either of us. But if you want a baby, have a damn baby, okay? I won't interfere. Kid doesn't even have to know who I am. I refuse to be the reason you decide to kill my kid, though."

His eyes narrowed on her. "You get rid of it, it's on you." He stood up, then, pushing the chair back into the table with his foot. "And a word of advice? Not that I think you would, but you seem to be crazier than any rumor ever made me out to be. Don't come knocking on our door. You won't be welcome."

[dragon]

Dorava looked over at him again as he started talking. Again. However, this time it was different from all the rest of the stuff that had fallen out of his mouth. Snide, selfish, demeaning, it was still all that. F'ur didn't know how to talk to her otherwise, she was convinced. But at the same time, it appeared as something of a peace offering. Somehow. She wasn't sure how those dots were connecting, but, whatever.

She nodded once, simply. "Alright. Thank you." If only for the knowledge that he wasn't going to gut her over the whole affair. She surely didn't need his permission to live her own life as she saw fit, but to know that she could do as she liked, and he wouldn't try to make trouble over it ... that was something. "I'll leave your door alone." She promised, looking up at him as he stood.

Peace offering or no, she still didn't trust him completely. F'ur was crazy, after all. No telling what he would do next. Best to keep an eye on him. Just for assurances. He looked like he was about to leave, but a body never knew for sure. He might say he only attacked when attacked ... but really, who knew when he perceived being attacked? She wasn't going to take that chance and assume he was going to behave himself.

But ... she had sortof created this dust up, by opening her mouth to someone she had thought she could trust, before she was even sure for herself of the situation. Mostly because at the time, by the time she knew for sure, it was too late to try and cover it up.

"I'll think about it. If and when I know anything, or decide anything ... I might let you know."

[Requiem]

Glancing down at her, he allowed a small, wry smile to pass over his lips. Well. Apparently weyrbrat level speech was sufficient, this time. Waving a drudge over with another plate of food - since he'd stolen hers - F'ur shrugged one shoulder. "You don't want me involved. F'lix doesn't either. I won't be. 'Sides, I'll know when and if you start blowing up like a balloon. No need to go out of your way to tell me." As the drudge came over, he took his leave, filching a redfruit off the counter as he went. The man had little desire to remain here.