Who

Treivyshe, Alyna

What

Wildling and greenrider meet in the library and debate which are more civilized, trees or books.

When

It is sunset of the twenty-eighth day of the second month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Archive Library

OOC Date 06 Jun 2018 04:00

 

treivyshe_default.jpg alyna_default.jpg

"The most civilized thing about this place."


archive_library.jpg

Archive Library

Where once books reigned supreme, this open space is now dominated by a stalwart skybroom reaching to the sky through a broken ceiling. What was once evidence of collapse is now ornately carved with engraved ivy, matched by a clever contraption of stone that allows the gap to be closed in inclement weather. A small garden occupies the space around the tree-trunk, all manicured bushes and flowering shrubbery enclosed by a grated gutter. The walls are lined with bookcases, while a spiral staircase leans on the western wall to wind upwards to the second level. Tucked in the corners and scattered in the main areas are tables and chairs, cafe-style, and comfortably worn overstuffed armchairs. It is the perfect place for individuals to gather, to enjoy the offerings of the food-cart or a spirited conversation.


A fortnight's time yields sign of neither hair nor hide of a particular wildling within Southern. Those searching would search in vain; those keeping a ready eye would find only disappointment. Nearly three sevens later, Treivyshe is making an impression in the room with the tree, standing and gawping at its base. Certainly not an abnormal reaction — but the wildling has trespassed far within the garden, looking sorely tempted to put palm and heel to bark and scale the memorable tree itself.
PS: he's back, apparently.

One of those people keeping an eye out for a certain mountain of a wildling has been Alyna, although other matters in her private life have been keeping her plenty occupied that she hadn't really done any searching as such, but she certainly hoped she hadn't seen the last of him. After a late supper, the greenrider seeks out a little solitude for herself, something she hasn't had much of in the last few sevens. The Library seems to be the perfect place to unwind after a day of drills and sweeps. Upon spying Treivyshe and the almost reverant way he seems to be looking at the tree, she cants her head to one side and advances slowly, her hands clasped behind her back, "It's kind of wild isn' it?" she observes softly.

"It is." The serene aura which clads Treivyshe in quietude seems a simple extention of his natural calm; he looks over one shoulder, blue eyes bright against the faintly russet bounty of his hair. His gaze roams again, upward, free, unconstrained, as if mapping the limbs and numbering the very leaves themselves. "The most civilized thing about this place." Says the savage, as he rests a broad palm against the broad trunk, for all the world seeming to commune with the victorious fauna.

Intrigued by his quietude, Alyna steps closer and looks up the tree as well as she considers his words, "I can see why you might say that," she admits before she watches him in silence as he seems to make a connection with it. The greenrider may not understand it, but she certainly respects it and will leave him to it while she heads over to a shelf where she picks out a slim novel before heading to one of those overstuff chairs in a conversation nook nearby and flops down into it, letting her legs dangle over one arm.

Treivyshe issues a noise just shy of gutteral; a low, voiceless thing of agreement. He would stand here for as long as he's allowed, and he does, until an underheadwoman comes along to scold him for his garden-trampling. The girl is young and flustered when Treivyshe turns his attention onto her, but valiantly holds her ground. Eventually, with a last lingering look to the tree behind him, the wildling departs from his sacred ground, taking a path to end equidistant betwixt Alyna's seat and the racks of books. There he stands, and his expression slowly evolves to one of patent distrust, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion toward the ceaseless presence of … the books.

Alyna tries really hard not to giggle when the large man gets scolded by the young woman, lowering her nose further into the book she just opened. Sensing his movement nearby, she raises her crystalline blue eyes once more in his direction, studying him for a long moment, she sees that look of distrust coalescing over his features and it piques her interest too keenly to ignore. "I suppose books are quite a lot less civilized than trees for your people," she guesses wildly, still learning about wildlings herself lately since she is not a native to the Southern Continent.

"Do you know they make some of them from trees?" Treivyshe rumbles in reply, sounding more Entish than man in his obviously resentful sense of mind. "And here, where she can see them." The tic of attention askance seems to indicate that the library's reigning tree is female, at least to this wildling, and may one day take great offence to her heartsisters' presence in the pages of the books beyond. Trei's attention turns briefly to Alyna, his eyes dropping to the slim novel in her hands.

"Yes, I do know that," Alyna answers quietly as she finds herself scrutinized for the book in her hands, "But surely your people must use wood for various purposes," she speculates idly as she hugs the book to her chest, letting her head drop against the seat back to study him anew, her curiosity for the wildling written plain on her face as she continues to study his face, amazed that one so imposing could seem to have such a soft side to him.

"We do." Treivyshe agrees with that statement, completely blind to any hypocricies that such a statement may produce: then all is made clear by the short gesture of his hand, a gesture of finality. "Functional things." Succinctly laying bare what he thinks of books — or perhaps a viewpoint shared by his entire tribe. He turns his attention then to Alyna, brow creased as he gazes upon the book in her hand.

The book, if he can make out the title, is clearly some novel of some kind, titled Summer's Passions. Alyna has a bit of a soft spot for trashy romance it seems. "Ah, but some books are functional. It how we record our history," she says simply before she looks at the empty seats nearby to her and then back to him, offering silent invitation.

The real question is… can Treivyshe even read? Let's face it, the answer to that question may be, uh, complicated. "But are all of them?" he challenges, moving away from the sea of books with an unhurried step. He'll eventually sprawl down on one, knee crossed over opposing leg, arm slung casually over the chair next to him, claiming all the space.

"Not all of them," Alyna admits with a half smirk as she watches the way the man claims his space with the sheer size of him, "Some, like this one," she lifts the book in question, "Are merely good for a laugh," she explains with an easy shrug. "But even entertainment has it's purpose. Don't your people ever do anything for distraction sake or purely for enjoyment?" she asks inquisitively as she drapes one arm over her head, letting fingers play gently in her blond hair.

"Purely for enjoyment?" There comes Treivyshe's signature eyebrow lift — it would be Spock-like if not for the innuendo and, well, all the hair. Instead he just looks very speculative, if speculation isn't exactly what he's going for. Expressions work that way, sometimes. "They don't involve books," he reassures her, in case she somehow thinks there's a Wildling Book Club out there, talking about 50 Shades of Sycamore out on Ierne island.

"Yes, just for fun," Alyna elaborates with a soft chuckle as she nods her head in his direction, highly amused but also intrigued by the current conversation. "So then what do you do for enjoyment?" she asks as she lets her sun-bleached locks trickle idly through her fingers as her blue eyes watch him intently. She doesn't want to speculate though, in case she accidentally offends him, so she just patiently awairs his answer.

"We enjoy company," Treivyshe says, smiling faintly. "Swimming, searching new areas. Fishing. Making things. Eating things. Being with family and tribe." He gestures artlessly. "I have a sister who is… enamoured," he carefully enunciates the word, chosen with care, "With canines. She trains them to obsession."

"Well that sounds like what a lot of my people do for fun as well," Alyna offers softly as she shrugs her shoulders non-chalantly, "Maybe your people and mine have more in common than any of us thinks." It's a nice thought but even the greenrider knows, or at least she's been told, that it's not so simple when it comes to relations between wildlings and weyrfolk. But if it were up to her, everyone would just get along. "Well would you rather she be enamoured with boys? Canines seem a harmless enough obsession." Exactly opposite of boys.

"Maybe." Treivyshe doesn't seem too concerned about it, but this is also the man who thought it apt to bet in dragonpoker with carved buttons. Super similar to mark pieces… right? When speaking of his kid sister, Treivyshe shifts, tossing a more amused expression toward the greenrider. "I'm not complaining. Just observing."

"You do that a lot don't you?" Alyna asks with a small smirk on her face, "Observing I mean. You seem to look at everything as if it is brand new to you." It's obvious the woman finds this facinating, adding another layer to her curiosity about wildlings in general and Treivyshe in specific. "Do you have many siblings then, or just the one?" she asks with a thoughtful tilt of her head.

"Seven," Treivyshe confirms, nodding along. "Six brothers." Just in case Alyna wanted to know if there's a manufacturing line for Treivyshe-knock-offs, well, that's been confirmed. "And you?" he finally breaks this one-sided question-and-answer session to ask the blonde a question of his own. "Do you have family here?" He gestures briefly with a broad hand to encompass the space about them both.

Six brothers? Alyna mouthes in disbelief as she just lets that little mental picture play in her mind for a moment before being brought back to reality when he finally asks her a question. "I'm from Telgar Hold originally, way up in the northern continent. That's where my parents still live, but I was their only child." When he asks his last though a small smile plays over her lips, "Well, I do have my weyrmate here at Southern, so I guess he's my family here." There's a bit of a tender smile on her face for that, it's the first time she considered this fact and it seems to please her quite a bit.

"Telgar." Trei's brow creases in thought at Alyna's declaration of heritage, as if he's trying to place the location she refers to. "That must have been awful." It's not immediately obvious if he's referencing being an only child or growing up in Telgar. His attention shifts back to the greenrider at the end of her statement, and his smile deepens reflectively. "Mates are family." Confirmation that that, at least, is the same across the aisle!

"It wasn't terrible," Alyna remarks easily with a small smile for the Hold of her childhood. "I kept myself entertained enough and then I got Searched and swept off to Igen Weyr," the greenrider flutters her hand in an abstract imitation of a dragon in flight. There is a softening to her features as he confirms that mates are indeed family, and she even gets a bit of a blush just dusting over the bridge of her nose. "Well it's still really recent, still getting used to it I guess. We might not have what you would call a conventional arrangement, but it works for us." She shakes her head then, "Sorry, don't mean to presume anything about your people. I have no idea what you would consider conventional when it comes to mating."

Another voiceless noise of agreement, or at least acknowledgement, to Alyna's commentary of her childhood. Treivyshe hefts himself to his feet in a motion that seems as natural as the tree stretching to the ceiling. Crow's-feet display around his eyes as a laugh unvoiced at the nearly-question. "Handfasting is handfasting." A fairly global concept, it would seem, foreign enough to weyrmating in its own way. "I should be going." With a last distrustful look to the books, he bobs his bearded chin in toward his throat in farewell. "Give P'quil my greetings."

"Which is not at all like weyrmating by the way," Alyna calls after him as she watches him go with a soft sigh and a little puzzled lift of one brow. She would definitely have to set the man straight on this score when next she runs across him. His very last comment takes a moment to process and he's long gone before she gets to answer weakly with, "Who is this P'quil you keep talking about?" With one final sigh, Alyna picks up her book and looks at it for a long moment, before rising herself and putting it back on the shelf she found it on. She'd much prefer the real thing and so she departs to her weyr for some familial company.

Who is P'quil? That's the question everyone wants an answer to. Someday, Treivyshe will actually meet the real P'quil and things will be very confusing indeed.

Add a New Comment