Yelling at Glowbaskets

[Administrator]

Marra stared blankly at the music in her page. For some reason, she had been on music-writing spree, locking herself in her apartments just writing music, one right after the other. She hadn’t had any idea about what started this non-stop muse, but she wasn’t exactly figuring it out. She hadn’t slept in days, but she didn’t realize this. She had kept the thick curtains drawn, blocking the sun from her, going into some sort of trance that involved nothing but music. She ate very little, but she had some food that she had been nibbling on that she had stored in her cupboards, so it wasn’t starvation that was making her so listless. If she were to sleep, her exhausted mind conjectured, she would lose this wonderful muse that kept springing up for her.

Yawning, she stood in a periodic stretch, looking down at the piles of music she had written with absent satisfaction. Yes, she was quite pleased. She wrote a few melancholy pieces, a few upbeat pieces, and all sorts of ones in between. Some were for voice and accompaniment, others for choirs, others instrumental only. Yes, she was quite pleased. She staggered over to her dresser, pulling them open almost drunkenly in search of clothes. The ones she wore then were too warm for her liking. She was feeling a bit too hot for comfort, especially in the humid Selenitas Weyr region.

However, something distracted her. Frowning, she looked into the looking glass, dismayed by the reflection looking sullenly back at her. The brown hair was a mess, its bun ready to fall out, with wisps of curly hair framing the ashen face. Sunken eyes stared out at her from amidst shadowy circles, bloodshot with an almost faded look about the irises. Marra frowned, forgetting her original task at hand. Perhaps she should have a quick nap. However, she dismissed that notion straight away. She didn’t want to lose muse.

As she staggered back over to her desk, the glow basket caught her eye. Frowning, she saw Rawign’s face seeming to replace it. Puzzled, she looked up at it. “What’re you laughing at?” she demanded of the glowbasket. Anyone in their right mind might notice the irony of this hallucination. Marra had always been calling Rawign a deadglow, yet here he was, all in his bright glory. She listened patiently to Rawign’s ‘response,’ but she glared at him. “That’s not a polite thing to say,” she told him, her voice hoarse and cracking.

[glamourie]

It was a rather nice hand-harp, and well-worth the three marks the thing had cost. What compelled him to buy it, he couldn't say, though he suspected it was because Marra seemed to like it. She was always so down in the dumps and grouchy that anything that could cheer her up seemed like a good idea. It was kind of funny, really. He didn't go in expecting to be Marra's friend when he'd offered to prove to her that people weren't all bad, but that was his goal anymore. He wanted to be her friend, and he wanted her to be less grouchy and nasty. He didn't exactly go about showing that desire well (as Rawign expressed himself poorly much of the time), but that was his goal. So it was that when he'd seen something she seemed to like, yet didn't buy for herself for some reason, he'd decided to pick it up for her. It wasn't the possession that mattered to him, but he was hoping that the harp would make her smile if nothing else. She needed more smiles, he was starting to think that scowl was stuck to her face. Hardly the most pleasant of looks, really.

After purchasing the hand-harp, Rawign had actually wound it up with cloths to hide it from view. It was finely made with intricate gold edgings that were polished so the light danced off them just right and gave it a fancy look. Hardly over-done, though. Some of the other instruments looked overly decorative and not quite functional - his goal in picking that one was one that was nice, and also functional enough that Marra could get some use out of it.

Besides, she was the one who was looking at it when he walked up!

He'd intended to give it to her that day, but Keliris annoyed him into not doing so. And then a certain Harper had been cooped up in her apartment. She was welching on their deal! Agitated, Rawign had grabbed the cloth-covered harp and stalked across the grounds with an animated blue flitter following him about, chirping and chattering while seemingly oblivious to his person's mood. Right up to her apartments he went, knocking on the front door a little too roughly, but he was in a bad mood and it was better if he took it out on the door than on Marra herself. How dare she welch, when he wasn't through trying to prove .. whatever it was he'd been trying to prove? And he had a present for her. Typical! Women! They had to complicate things! They just could not leave well enough alone!

"That's not a polite thing to say."

Rawign blinked at the sound of the voice from behind the door. Did she have a visitor? Oh, was he interrupting her with her lover? GOOD! He hoped he was! Annoyed, Rawign sniffed and added, "It's also not polite to not answer your door, Marra!" And he completely overlooked how weak her voice had sounded when she spoke, otherwise he might have sounded less indignant and more worried...

[Administrator]

A knock at the door surprised Marra so much that she stumbled, almost falling over. That was loud! Glaring at 'Rawign,' Marra angrily said, "Don't you even dare laugh." Fumbling around for something to help keep her balance, she grasped the back of her chair and pulled herself up from her hunched position. She rested there for a moment- it had hurt her arms slightly with that motion when her hands had done nothing the past few days but write. Her fingers were stained with ink, and indents in her hand were left from how hard she wrote with her quill. Still leaning on the chair, she looked down at her hands, dismayed at their look, when she continued her self-evaluation. How did her shirt get splatters of ink on it? she wondered distantly. The knock at the door forgotten, she slowly pulled herself up, starting to walk back over to her dresser to change her shirt.

Once again, however, she was stopped. Jumping awkwardly as a voice hollered at her through the door, she turned back slowly to look at 'Rawign.' "Well, why don't you answer the door if it's pissing you off so much?" she demanded haughtily. Rawign's smirking glow face did not reply. Grumbling, she slowly staggered over to the door. Lifting her arms to the knob, she was dismayed to find she couldn't tighten her fingers around it, something that often happened right after she woke up. Grimacing, she slowly brought her other hand up on the other side of the knob. Carefully, she attempted opening the door, a difficult task because her palms were a bit sweaty with the heat that emanated from Marra's tired body.

Fortunately, she managed it, opening the door after a moment. Shading her eyes from the light of the hall, she slowly registered who the person standing in front of her was. Rawign? But... She turned back anxiously at the first Rawign, confusion crossing her features. "Aren't you already in?" she asked distantly. Leaning against the doorway, she suddenly felt a dizzy, but she ignored it. "Well, one of you has to leave," she announced, starting to stagger back in. "Two is more than I can handle. Hell, it's bad enough with one." She laughed awkwardly at her own joke, a laugh that was louder and more boisterous than usual.

That seemed just about what was needed to take everything out of her. She moaned, putting a hand to her temple. She swayed on her feet, forgetting that either Rawign was there, forgetting anything that could have lead up to this. One last sway to her left, and she crumpled onto her side, a faint that welcomed the blessed unconsciousness to her at last.

[glamourie]

As the door opened, Rawign froze, visibly stunned. Marra looked... awful, to put it lightly, and he rarely did that; he would have (privately) gone so far as to compare her to death warmed over in her looks. What in the world was she doing? Dark shadows under her eyes, pale skin -- had she been eating at all? She definitely wasn't sleeping, everything in her appearance made that much clear. The defiant and catty side of Rawign who was still angry with her for 'welching' on their bet (Perhaps Keliris was right, and he truly was spurned?) thought she deserved it, but every other part of him was concerned. Marra might have been a brat most of the time but if she was in such a state, she'd obviously gone without sleep for a considerable amount of time. It didn't take a Healer to notice that. Sleep was essential to human functions - she was going to make herself so ill.

Her question made him tilt his head to the side, confusion blossoming over his features before he glanced at the glow basket. What? Two? She was - ... she was hallucinating. Way too long without sleep. Any other time, he'd probably have found it outrageously funny that she was hallucinating him as a glow, but not then.

"Marra, you need to get some rest. Right now," he said quietly as he stepped into the apartment after her. Her laughter made his eyebrows shoot up and he moved over to her but not in time - she crumbled to the floor before he could make a move to catch her and Rawign promptly dropped to his knees, setting the hand-harp to the side without a second thought. He frantically checked Marra's pulse as a hint of panic washed over him. He was normally good at remaining objective, but he'd never had someone he knew faint right in front of him before. The fact that he was worried was written so plainly across his face that he would not be able to deny any longer that he at least cared a little about Marra's well-being.

Scooping her up into his arms, Rawign disregarded the state her apartment was in to move her to her furs. Once she was settled, he half-dashed back to the front door of her apartment before frantically flailing at some of the people passing by. Once he had their attention, he gestured around vaguely. Normally he wasn't a very physical person, but he was worried, even visibly shaken, though he would deny later ever being all that upset, "I need water and rags, right now. Hurry, hurry!" Once they were gone about getting that, he moved back to Marra's side and brushed her hair away from her face before checking her over. Well, at least she was getting some rest, right? Even though he would have preferred it to be voluntary rest. But there wasn't much he could do for her with her completely unconscious, though once she woke up he was going to shove enough food down her throat that maybe she would take better care of herself if only to be rid of him.

While waiting for the people he'd bossed around (who he probably was not qualified to boss around at all - oops?) to return with the water, Rawign busied himself picking up the apartment. Ironically, he had to keep moving physically to keep himself calm. Her music was placed neatly into piles and the ink that was smeared around was wiped up casually. But he only had a few moments before a woman returned, concerned, with the water he'd asked for and a few rags. Taking them, he muttered a thank you before dampening the rags and laying them over Marra's forehead and around her collar, in hopes of lowering her body temperature some if nothing else. She needed to sleep and he would not try to wake her, but he would try to make her more comfortable. Once she woke up he would haul her back to the infirmary, though. She needed observation after a fall like that, but her side didn't like anything more than that it might be sore; she hadn't fallen hard from the looks of things so hopefully she wouldn't bruise up too badly...

[Administrator]

Marra's eyelids slowly opened after a while, though she had not a clue as to how much time had passes. She was still so tired, but something had prompted her awake. Groggily, she looked around, frowning. Feeling something heavy on her head, she slowly brought her hand to it, pulling away the rag that lay there. She stared at it for a moment in confusion before remembering the vague details that had happened. She had written a lot of music- she remembered that. However, what lead to what brought her here was still fuzzy. Tossing the rag away weakly, she closed her eyes again as she tried to summon up more energy. She could sleep more once she figured out what happened.

Slowly, she sat up, feeling slightly out of it, but looked around. She frowned. "Rawign?" she asked croakily, dismayed at the sound of her voice. Moving the rag from her collar, she sleepily flopped it near the other. "What's going on?" she asked, frowning, slowly slumping back down into the pillows. Even when tired, she was still irritated with herself for letting Rawign see her in such a state. Looking down at herself, Marra's lips pursed. Her outfit was disgusting. Her face tinged with pink in embarassment. Rawign was probably thinking her a slob, with ink stains riddling her tunic in such a way. He'd never let her live it down.

Desperate to maintain any drop of pride she could, she reluctantly swung her legs over the side of the cot. She should change clothes, and the very least. Gritting her teeth at how similar to jelly she felt like, Marra carefully pushed herself up, giving a wary look at Rawign, as if daring him to say something. Undoing her hair as she felt her body sway a little, but not dangerously, she stumbled over to her dresser, pausing as she gripped the hard wood. Reaching for her comb, she ran it through her hair a few times. "So, what brings you here?" she asked, her hoarse voice as conversational as she could keep it, feeling the back of her neck burn in embarassment. She would love to do nothing more than go back to sleep for a long, long time, but she felt compelled to speak with Rawign.

"Did... What happened?" she finally asked, her curiosity unable to be held in any more. She carefully avoided his gaze, only looking at her own miserable reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. Great. Yet another thing for Rawign to make fun of her for. She ran the comb through her hair even more fiercely, pulling it back into its bun with near-violence. She would bathe after Rawign left, but for now, she opened her dresser, fighting off the heavy eyelids. Pulling out a new shirt and breeches, she paused, waiting to hear his response before she would go change.

[glamourie]

While Marra was unconscious, Rawign, in his nervousness, had scurried around her apartment to clean up any of the messes. He didn't respond well to anxiety, and it was a wonder he hadn't tore his own hair out in frustration. After cleaning one thing he would move back to check her vitals to make sure Marra was okay, dampen the rag, then go back to his scurrying. He felt like he was about to drop dead from sheer panic and the only thing keeping him going was desire to throw a tantrum. Nothing better than spite to keep a person busy and active, right?

Once she started stirring, however, Rawign's nerves settled down and a cold anger washed over him. He couldn't explain why he was so mad at her, except that she'd been obviously neglectful to her own health and that struck him as such utter foolishness. There was more to it and he would analyze that some other time, but for the moment, he'd settle on just being furious. Ironically, when he was angry as opposed to agitated, he tended to switch to cold pathology. That helped him to remain calm better than most people would when they were upset. Besides, he felt like he was right to be angry, and that helped, too. He always reacted worse when some part of him believed he was wrong or had done something wrong, even if the forefront of his mind would have denied it to his grave.

"What happened? Well, I came here to - to talk to you about your skipping out on our deal," He refused to admit his main reason was to bring her a present, not when he as mad at her. Maybe when he calmed down some, "and you were hallucinating. Imagine my surprise when you opened the door and looked positively dreadful - bloodshot eyes, bags under them, pale and your hair a disarray. Then you started talking to a glow basket, which for as much as I can decipher you were hallucinating to be me, and you fainted. It's been almost an entire day since then." He forced his voice to hold some calm, but he was angry enough that no doubt his temper was starting to bleed through. "You need to change clothes, bathe and then head to the infirmary. You haven't eaten, you took quite a nasty fall and you're going to need more sleep but not on an empty stomach. You probably know all of this, but I'm reminding you anyway because you also know better than to stay up for countless days without sleeping, yet you did it anyway." Another thread of anger mounted into his voice, which left little doubt to his anger.

The hand-harp was left on the desk, somewhat forgotten by Rawign. He was busy giving Marra a look that bordered on murderous. It never even occurred to him to look away, that she might have wanted to change. He was still considering shaking her until she got some more sense. He wouldn't - Rawign wasn't a physical individual - but the fact that he was mad was clearly written over all of his features.

"Your music is on your desk," he sniped absently before launching into a full-on tirade that pretty much washed away the last traces of his self-control, "and I hope it's worth it to you more than your health is. I can't believe you'd do something so foolish! I knew you were dim, but this completely takes the title. What was so important about these songs, so much so that they could not wait until you slept? You're no use to anyone dead, Marra, and what if you'd fallen and cracked your head open on the desk? Or on one of the chairs? What if you'd fallen right on your head? Imagine if I hadn't been here and that had happened? Who would have found you, Marra? You don't think, do you? I can't believe you'd do something so foolish! You're lucky you fell where you did!"

[Administrator]

Marra felt her blood run cold. One might call it guilt, but Marra knew that if she admitted this feeling to herself, she would shut down. She couldn't do that- not now. She also had difficulty believing that she had slept the entire day. How could she be this tired when she had slept a whole day?! She still didn't look up at Rawign, knowing what he was saying was probably true. "I..." she began, then paused. Swallowing hard, she started again. "I don't need the infirmary," she told him uncomfortably. She didn't like being in infirmaries. "I did eat, and I feel fine. All I need is a bath and some sleep," she told him, not meeting his eyes. Even though she was hungry, probably from not eating all day, she wasn't dying of hunger. She had eaten during her days of composing her songs, even if it was infrequently. Besides, infirmaries made her uncomfortable. What if they found something different that was wrong? No, it was safer just steering clear of it. If she was just a little less prideful, she perhaps would have tried to work up the courage to ask Rawign if he could be her healer for this if she needed one that desperately. Of course, Marra would never do that.

Rawign was not happy with her. It was uneasy, how he seemed so... irritated with her. Had he stayed the whole time? She hoped not, or else she would really feel bad. "Did... Did you stay here all day?" she asked uncomfortably. Shard it... Why did he have to come here in the first place?! Turning back to face him, she clutched her clean clothes to her chest, covering up most of the ink stains, but she continued to look down to hide her flush. She had not yet noticed the harp, but it would probably embarrass her further once she realized who it was for.

She let herself be scolded, too tired, embarrassed, and guilty to argue. "Sorry," she mumbled, already wandering back to her bed, sitting on it. The energy was just being sucked from her, and she swung her legs back up to lie down as she listened to Rawign let loose his anger. "Just had a lot of muse. I managed to write a lot, and perhaps a few are decent." Her voice, oddly, sounded very small as she said this, as if she knew she had done wrong and her voice confessing this. Then, realizing how weak she sounded, desperately tried to preserve her dignity. "I wouldn't have hit my head!" she defended uncertainly. It was a lie. She could've hit her head, and he was right. Oh, how she hated to admit this sorry fact!

[glamourie]

She didn't need the infirmary? She did so! He wanted to make sure she was closely watched so that she slept and ate and took better care of herself because clearly she wasn't going to on her own. Wherrybrain! He was mildly reassured when she said she ate, but he shook his head frantically, making it clear he was not budging on that fact. If he had to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder like a sack, he would do so; she was going to the Infirmary where there were Healers who would watch her and make sure she was okay, unless she gave him an excellent explanation to why she shouldn't go, and even then she might have trouble being rid of him. He was upset, worried and -- and what?

"Of course I stayed here the whole time. You fainted. What did you expect me to do? Suddenly jump up, go 'Look! Unconscious Harper! Hurray!' and proceed to strip, dance naked around the apartments, and then just conveniently come back right before you woke up? You fell down - not hard enough to break anything, fortunately, but I didn't want you to be left alone. You overheated yourself, I suspect, so I've been changing the rags on your forehead and neck to try and lower your body temperature some," he explained with both hands running through his long black waves. Most of his hair had fallen free of its usual confines, pulled back at the base of his neck. It always ended up coming loose eventually, such was the price of wavy-to-curly hair in humidity. It didn't stick up awkwardly most of the time, though. At least she wasn't arguing with him. If she started arguing, he might have taken to bouncing around the apartment flailing frantically in temper. Really, blowing up was a long-time coming for Rawign, who had been holding in his moods with everything ever since he arrived. But he was doing a good job releasing them on Marra, if only because she'd been so - so foolish! Ugh!

SHE HAD A LOT OF MUSE?! That was her excuse? For being so - so reckless? Gaping (not unlike a fish), Rawign sprung up and around the room before flailing frantically. He took to pacing with his eyes wide and stalked in a circle as he ranted, unable to hold still. "You had a lot of muse? You could have gotten very seriously hurt, Marra, and don't give me that 'I wouldn't have hit my head' because you're very lucky you didn't! I don't want to see your head splattered across the floor! You're - you are so ridiculous! Well, fine. You're right. A bath couldn't hurt, it would probably make you relax. So I'm going to let you go get one - and while you do that, I'm going to go to the kitchens to get you something to eat. We'll both meet back here so you eat, and then you go to sleep. And that's it. No arguing. I won't force you to come to the infirmary but if you won't go there, you will eat something here, because I don't want to risk you getting worse by not eating anything! Do you understand me? This is non-negotiable; you argue this point and I'll have to simply carry you to the infirmary and throw you to the mercy of the other Healers."

[Administrator]

Marra blinked slowly, curling herself up into a feeble ball on her bed. "Naked?" she repeated, an eyebrow raising up slightly. "You're too much of a prude to be naked anywhere," she remarked sleepily, not caring how awkward it sounded. It was the truth, and that was all. She finally looked up at him, her red cheeks painfully obvious. She was met with a surge of guilt. He looked unbelievably frazzled. "Sorry," she murmured again. Shardit. She was in debt to him now... He helped her, so now she owed him. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she looked away again pointedly... At her desk. Spying the harp, she sat up in surprise. "Is that yours?" she asked suddenly, pointing to it. Did he want her to teach her how to use it? It seemed too nice for a beginner's harp, though. She frowned. Perhaps he just liked luxurious things. However, he didn't mention it before. Well, he could just be too prideful to admit he wanted lessons.

Looking back up at him, she realized with a pang that he actually intimidated her. She wasn't sure if it was because she was so tired, or that he had so much power over her in her state of weakness, but whatever it was, it was almost frightening to the harper. He was very tall, she concluded, wheras she was short. This did not help anything. It just emphasized his ferocious look of anger.

"Why do you care?" she finally asked, defeatedly. Was this obligtion? She frowned, unsure. Obligation didn't mean he had to stay with her all day. He could have put her on the bed and walked away. Yet he hadn't. This confused the harper, who regarded Rawign with the same expression on her face. If he had done this to be a hero, he would have remarked upon it, not yelled at her. She was silent for a long moment, her exhausted mind trying to search through any selfish reason he could have done this. Unable to think of one, she hung back, looking at him with almost new eyes. The only other person who was this way with her was Jenicey... Was Rawign actually like her, did he actually prove Marra wrong? "You do care," she remarked quietly, more of a reaffirmation than a question.

Standing up, she nodded slowly. "All right," she said softly, still baffled. She would bathe, she would eat, she would sleep, all under Rawign's voluntary watchful eye. Letting him take over, something Marra would never have done before now, she wouldn't fight. She would let Rawign continue with his firm orders, and meekly follow along. If he was anything like Jenicey, this would be the wise thing to do. He may have possibly just proved her philosophy wrong.

[glamourie]

Prude? Rawign gave Marra a dirty look before turning away, though he didn't deny it; he wouldn't have used the term 'prude' for himself, though. Prude would have implied he was ashamed, in his mind, and he wasn't. He thought he was gorgeous and would happily spit that much out most of the time. He just... didn't want anyone to disagree with him. Besides, there were plenty of people at the Weyr who were happy to strip down and dance naked. He could have ordered them into doing it! Not that anyone really listened to him all that often. Under his breath he mumbled something sounding suspiciously like 'Disappointed?' before looking back up again. Her gaze had fallen on the harp he'd forgotten was there and he flushed awkwardly before looking away from her. "It's yours, actually, though now I'm tempted not to give it to you. I bought it at the Gather," he explained weakly. "You seemed to like it well enough..."

Deflating slightly, Rawign flopped bonelessly down right in the floor. Care? Care. He didn't care. He started to open his mouth to reply, almost snarling, but it ended in a sigh. He was so not going to admit that to himself, let alone her. She wasn't arguing. She must have been hurt worse than he thought - and arguing didn't gain him anything, even if it was wonderfully cathartic. He lifted one hand to rub his temples, pain jolting through him. A headache was forming, wonderful. Did she have to be so difficult to understand? And why did he feel like blushing, stammering and running away once attention was drawn to the hand-harp? He was being so ridiculous. Strangely, though, the mention of the harp chased away most of his anger. Most, not all.

"I don't," he sniped in agitation, trying to regain some of his dignity. He didn't care! He didn't! ... Okay, yes he did, but he didn't want her to know that he did. Even if his entire posture and behavior made it relatively obvious how he felt, Rawign could not bring himself to admit that he was worried out of his mind. He'd rather have blamed it on anything else, even if that did sort of defeat his whole.. purpose for hanging around her in the first place. It had started well enough, the two merely agreeing to meet up for him to prove people weren't all bad, but the truth was, annoying as she could be (Often, his mental voice insisted, often!), Rawign did care about Marra. He just... didn't want anyone to know that. Caring about people was a good way to get hurt. And he was betting Marra would happily hurt anyone to get what she wanted. He really was dim.

Fortunately, she wasn't arguing with him, and that made most of his anger vanish. He'd have preferred that she go to the infirmary because then he'd be able to get some sleep, too, but since she clearly didn't want to go (Enough to endure his presence! Shocking.) he'd tough it out and feline-nap; he was not about to go into a deep sleep when she was in such a state. Quietly, he added, "Try not to fall asleep in the baths - I don't think either of us really wants me to go in there to make sure you're all right. What foods do you prefer?" He felt silly asking that, and he tried to tell himself privately that he'd have asked the same question for any patient, but he wouldn't have. And he knew it. Fool, fool, he was such a fool...

[Administrator]

Marra rolled her eyes. She heard that word under his breath. Like hell she was disappointed. If Rawign had danced naked before her presence, she would have personally castrated him. The procedure couldn't be too difficult, she thought absently. Just take a knife and cut it off. Then again, she did owe him now... She sighed. So much for castration. It would've been fun, but then she would have been so incredibly in debt to him that she would suffocate underneath all the weight. She'd be even with him someday, she reassured herself. Then she could do whatever she pleased to his private parts. She paused a moment, then frowned. Good thing she didn't say that out loud. It could have been construed wrong. Banishing those awful thoughts from her mind, she determinedly kept looking into his face. She didn't want all these thoughts about castration to make her look distractedly down to his parts.

She was sobered up in moments, though. Being told what the harp was for made her blush. "I... Did you actually buy that?" she stammered. Was he spending marks on her?! "You... You didn't need to get me that," she said, staring at it in shock. Was he expecting her to do something for it? He couldn't just buy her something like this! Guilty, she looked down at the floor, the pink tinge to her cheeks very solid. Never had Marra been good at accepting gifts, especially from people who never seemed to like her much. Yet here he was, always bringing her gifts whenever he came. First flowers, then a harp... Hesitating, Marra slowly stood, not in control of her own movements. Making her way to the harp, she hesitantly picked it up, looking it over. It was a good choice, she had to admit. Not overly decorated, yet still maintaining a professional air... Looking up at Rawign for assurance, she strummed out the melancholic Question Song. The harp proved to be in perfect tune, and she stared at it, stunned. "How much did you pay fo-o-o-oooor it?" she demanded, but yawned in the middle of her sentence. Clasping the other hand over her mouth, she slowly sat on the floor, keeping the harp carefully in her hands as she leaned against the desk. Rawign couldn't have spent too much money on her... Why would he do a stupid thing like that? she reassured herself.

However, she smiled faintly at his desperate denial. Yes, denial, for that was what it was. You didn't wait around with someone for a whole day just for the hell of it. Closing her eyes slightly, Marra found herself yawning again. Not bothering to argue with him, she shrugged half-heartedly. "Suit yourself," she replied vaguely. Well, at least he hadn't figured out that he may have proved her wrong yet. She would never live that down. It was unfortunate, really, how much dirt Rawign was gathering on her at the moment. How she hadn't been sleeping, how she fainted, how he cared enough to make sure she was all right, and now that her one philosophy had a flaw because Rawign did not conform to it...

"I'll try not to," she told him sleepily, almost asleep just where she lay. She would have to be determined to not fall asleep in the baths! She yawned again, a testament to her exhaustion, and it took her a moment to reply. "I like fruit," she told him distantly. "Just not meat." Slowly, she pushed herself up with great reluctance, not wanting to get up, but reassured herself that she would be able to sleep very shortly. She couldn't help otherwise.

[glamourie]

AWKWARD. Rawign blinked twice at her, trying to think of an appropriate response, though he had to admit that her blushing was a nice change considering he always seemed to be the one embarrassed whenever they were together. His eyes followed her movements as she looked over the harp, though her inquiry made him smile. Did it matter how much it cost? She obviously liked it, so it wasn't important what the price was, in his opinion. More, less, it didn't matter at all if she was happy with it; he didn't think marks could compare to someone else actually being happy. Although, he had to wonder if she was upset, if only because she seemed so very puzzled. His mind flashed on the flowers. Marra was a strange one when it came to gifts.

"How much did I pay for it?" he echoed, thinking before ticking off on his fingers, "One trip to a Gather, one conversation in a forest, an extremely awkward disagreement at the river banks, and a very awkward conversation at your apartment door wherein there were flowers involved and both of us looking like fools. That's how much." He was not going to answer her when it came to marks; that wasn't payment at all, in his opinion. "Such is the price of trying to do something nice for you in hopes of you smiling. Do you think it was worth it? You're a Harper. You can tell me whether I over-paid." Simple and calm was the response. It never occurred to him that it might also make her feel bad, because he wasn't going for such a reaction. He thought his answer was more explanation to why he got it for her than anything else - because she was his friend, in a twisted, kick-one-another's-backsides sort of way. But he'd have denied that, too, just as he denied caring. Rawign was stubborn at times, and sometimes extremely illogical.

Her yawning made him trail off and Rawign gathered himself up before brushing imaginary dust off his leggings. "No meat; as you wish. I'll be here when you get back," he replied calmly before spinning on his heel. "Enjoy your bath." And then he flounced out of the apartment in the direction of the kitchens, to retrieve the fruits and grains he'd promised. Ironically, having been raised by fishers, Rawign did not think much of fish and meat, either. He ate it, but rarely; he greatly preferred fruit, too. He'd save that comment for some time when Marra was annoying him enough that he wanted to remind her they weren't so different after all, though. That way it would impact her more.

[Administrator]

Marra frowned. "I meant mark-wise," she told him with a sigh. Idiot. She was too tired to see the humor in anything, else she might've acknowledged what Rawign told her and wouldn't have thought him stupid. "It couldn't have been cheap," she added accusingly. She couldn't understand how Rawign could dump all this money into her when he could have spent it on so many other different things. It troubled her as to how easily Rawign was able to just simply buy her something so fine as a harp. Did he break something of hers? She frowned. He couldn't possibly have done that. This was only the second time he had been in her apartment, and she hadn't seen anything broken or missing. Why, then, would he buy this for her?!

She nodded distantly as Rawign bade her a good bath. Without a word, she immediately turned to the bathing room she shared with the woman who shared the apartment next door. Fortunately, that woman was out, leaving Marra with the tub of water all to herself. Pouring water into the stone tub from a seperate one that stored heated water, she silently stripped and plunged into the wonderful water.

It was almost disgusting. She hadn't realized how gross she was until now, sweaty and having an odorless stink of laziness about her that bothered her. Several times, she had to catch herself from falling asleep, reminding herself that Rawign was not about to get a look at her womanly parts. After rinsing the sweetsand from her hair, Marra slowly got out, wrapping a towel around her still weak-feeling frame, relieved at the cleanliness. She pulled on some loose-fitting clothes that she would sleep in and pulled her hair into two braids so that they would be manageable as she slept.

Walking back into her apartment, Marra automatically sat on her bed, doing everything in her power to not fall over and sleep right then. Rawign would be annoyed, she told herself drearily. She wasn't in the mood to deal with an angry Rawign. Yawning, she pulled her legs to her chest, her eyes half-closed as she stared blankly at the door.

[glamourie]

Down to the kitchens he'd trecked, where he retrieved a small bag filled with various fruits and breads. He also grabbed a skin of klah and tea fixings, which was more for himself than for Marra. Water, too, was retrieved before he made his way back to her apartment. With any luck, Marra would take her time in the bath and let herself relax. He let himself in, for once not knocking and if the people in the apartments for the wrong ideas, too bad. He didn't care. The different foods were placed out on her desk, along with everything else he'd brought. Despite his threats, he didn't bring enough food to gorge someone on; just enough for a good snack, it wouldn't truly count as a meal between two people. Not that Rawign himself was all that hungry. He'd been eating regularly. The Healer in him wouldn't let him let his health deteriorate that badly; he always slept, or at least put forth an effort, and he always ate. Once he turned around, though, he spotted that Marra was back already and --

"I knew trying to convince Linea to help was a bad idea, she never does anything quickly," he grumbled, then looked at the fruit he'd brought. Taking one of the particularly delicious-looking redfruits in one hand and a mug of water in the other, Rawign sat on the side of the bed. He slowly held them both out to her to take. "Water, tea, klah - it's your choice. I didn't know which you preferred. You should try to eat something and drink something. Sleeping for long periods of time can dehydrate you, especially in this heat. I'll let you alone once I'm sure you've eaten enough that you're not going to get worse when you sleep, promise. Was your bath nice?"

He was trying to be nicer to her, after exploding so spectacularly. He'd made a total fool of himself, and he knew he did. He owed her an apology but no part of Rawign was good at those, so instead he was trying to make up for it in behaving better around her. Ironically, he meant it, too. She needed to sleep and he did not want to upset her again. She could check her music when she woke up and see how she was doing, though he honestly thought she was ridiculous to have stayed up so long when she was clearly exhausted. If he had his way, he'd be sweeping around to make sure she went to bed at a certain time regularly, but he knew better: he was too busy to do that and besides, Marra would eventually tire of his presence. Or he'd tire of hers. She had a tendency to grate on his nerves under the best of circumstances, and when they were both tired was bound to be among the worst.

"I forgot to ask if you liked the harp..."

[Administrator]

Marra blinked slowly, taking a moment to register Rawign's entrance. Did she fall asleep sitting up? She couldn't remember. Seeing the food he carried, she sighed. Did he still think she hadn't eaten? That part wasn't true. "I've eaten," she protested tiredly. Letting her eyes shut completely, telling herself it was just to rest, she felt him sit on the side of her bed. Not budging from her curled, upright position, she opened one eye just a sliver to take the proferred fruit and water. Taking a bite from the redfruit, she just nodded with whatever he said, only half-hearing it. Something about dehydration and how hot it was... She swallowed, yawning promptly. She should finish her food fast, then she'd be able to sleep soon.

Slowly nodding in response to Rawign's question of her bath, she drained the water in just a few quick gulps. Was she really that thirsty? she wondered absently. Taking a second bite of the redfruit she could tell she was fading fast. Almost without realizing it, she tipped down her head resting against Rawign's shoulder. Her breathing steadied, easy sleep coming to her in the most awkward way. Marra didn't even know she was against him! The half-eaten redfruit dropped from her hands onto the floor, unable to tell him what she thought of the harp. That might have to wait for a another day.

Completely asleep now, her head tipped, sliding down the front of his arm into his lap. Marra made a sleeping movement that seemed as though she tried to wriggle her head up further into his lap, but to no success. Keeping her head on one of his thighs, one hand came up across his lap, sprawled out in sleep. Good thing she was asleep so as to not have to deal with this awkward positioning of herself. It was all Rawign's problem to deal with now.