Matters Of Opinion


Jonavan.jpg Bhedri.jpg / Beddie (NPC'd by Jaya)

Date: Nov. 27, 2010
Location: Baths, EW
Synopsis: Jonavan runs into someone he thinks is Jaya, only to find out she's not. Beddie gets to know a healer posted to the Weyr and probably has him thinking she's a bit mental.
Rating: PG-13
Logger: Jaya

It’s evening in the Weyr, just a few days from the arrival of one bubbly tornado Dicori. The baths are sparsely populated with a good number taking advantage of a good bath after meals or before drinks at the bar. Bhedri Dicori seems to be here for neither reason. She’s chosen one of the smaller pools by herself, as naked as the day she was born and looking just like a certain taciturn barkeep save for no scars marring her face – or any other part of her body, for that matter. She sits on the edge of the pool with her arms stretching up over her head, choosing a pool that has the dimmest lighting to avoid that much detection. That’s what would Jaya want, right? At least, Beddie seems to be complying with her sister’s demands for now. Hair is piled on top of her head with her fingers running all through them as she idly kicks her feet at the warm water below. She looks like she had just bathed, and is now just luxuriating by the pool and wasting some time before she goes on to the next task of the day.

Jonavan is one of those seeking some hot steam and a good soak after a long day. The main pool is too busy for his tastes as there's a couple lower caverns women giving their children a good scrub before putting them to bed. After a glance around the farther reaches of the cavern he locates Bhedri and, after the slightest of hesitations, walks towards her and her pool. "Hey," he gives briefly in greeting before pulling his shirt over his head, only affording the young woman a short look that fails to take note of any differences between Jaya and her twin. And to be fair, he isn't looking for any, hardly expecting the barkeep's lookalike nor given to paying her much overt attention thanks to the fallout of their last meeting. "Suli running things?" he wonders idly since this is time for business in the bar, then drops the rest of his kit and slides right in to the pool.

Beddie hears the greeting, but it doesn’t exactly reach her ears until he actually slides into the pool and upsets her silence. Her back still to him, “Hey,” she says, turning a fraction towards the sound of his voice without actually looking at him. Her voice seems slightly higher than Jaya’s, and with a smoother quality to it. Her Bitran accent is much stronger, too. Once he slides into the pool, she takes a brief look in his direction as she pulls her fingers from her damp hair and flicks her fingernails up to examine them idly. “Suli?” she asks then, eyes briefly rolling up to the ceiling. Yeah, she did recall meeting Suli unofficially at the bar by Jaya’s introductions… “I suppose so,” she decides to say, eyes back on her fingernails with a slight smile. “You know her?” she then asks, figuring it to be an odd form of greeting to ask about a barmaid, but then, Beddie was seeing the Weyr as a weird place.

Jonavan can't tell much about Beddie's accent from the basic greeting, and by the time she continues the healer's already ducked underwater to wet his hair. The sound of water dripping down obscures the nuances in her voice when he reemerges. It's Beddie's question that alerts him to the disconnect between this woman and the person he assumed she to be. "Well, obviously," he answers, slightly sarcastic before he catches himself and turns in the pool to scrutinize Beddie, eyes narrowed to a squint against the dim lighting. "You're not Jaya," he realizes with a note of surprise.

The sarcasm just doesn’t translate to Beddie – or rather, she’s heard it so much that now she takes it as equivalent to normal. She still has her gaze on her fingernails, suddenly frowning when she realizes that one of them is, indeed, broken. When did that happen? “Hides’n’shoots,” is her version of a muttered curseword, the Dicori traderwoman near-pouting now as she she’s yet to answer the healer’s words. That nail has the most of her attention now. “Are you sure, sweetie?” she asks him distractedly, automatically slipping into wanting to play the role of her taciturn sister. No, wait. Jaya wouldn’t say ‘sweetie’. In fact, she scowls most of the time. Hand falling to her lap, Beddie puts on a scowl and glares Jonavan down now, though it likely looks a lot more comical than it should be. Really, there’s just no line of sharpness on the Bitran’s face to suggest she’s scowled in the past. She’ll hold off asking the man for his name, though now she’s definitely getting a good look at him.

"Definitely," Jonavan replies with a look of amusement for Beddie's take on her sister. "You don't look half as pissed off as she usually does." Rather than drift towards the middle of the pool, the healer sticks close to the side and reaches for the sweetsoap - only to realise that he hadn't detoured to pick any up from the shelves where it's kept. "Uh. Have you got any soap on you?" he puts to Beddie, slinging his arm along the lip of the pool to keep him stationary.

Drats. There’s a flowing sigh, and then Beddie – naked and all – leans back propped up on both hands and resumes her lazy kicking of the warm water. “I can be pissed off,” Beddie says with a frown, pouting at him as she watches him closely. “Do I have to be to get you to think I’m her?” Yeah, like there’s some procedure. Before the man could respond, perhaps, she’s offering bubbly laughter and waving Jonavan’s words off lightly. “Of course I’m not her! Can you guess? Is she that bad? She’s my sister, you know,” Obviously, “but I’ve been trying for turns to get her to stop frowning like that! Do you know how harrowing a job that is? Getting her to stop frowning? I keep telling Bajie that her face is going to stay like that if she keeps it up, and then what man will want her? Not that I’ve seen her for the last six turns or so – sweetsoap?” That got the flow of words to stop, the traderwoman straightening up short and turning to grab her own supply of the stuff and toss it his way along with a wry, “You can have some if you tell me your name. Or rather, tell me anyway. I’m Bhedri,” she gives, hand going to her bare chest. “People call me Beddie. Yourself?”

Jonavan can hardly get a word in edgewise, but that suits him fine. He shows keen attention for Jaya's twin while hanging onto the edge, the beginnings of a grin creeping past his brusque exterior. And if that attention takes in her form, too, well don't blame him; Jonavan maintains eye contact quite admirably given the circumstance. "Harrowing, huh." He repeats the word back to Beddie and catches the soap neatly when it's thrown. "Thanks. Jonavan," he returns, slightly speculative as he tries to decide what to make of Beddie. "So…you're here to try to make her scowl a little less frequently?"

Leaning forward now, propping her head over raised fist held up by crossed legs playfully now, “Jonavan?” Beddie returns that study just as much as he does her, her smile winsome-looking. “My, aren’t you a cute one?” Dark eyes settle over what she could see of the man in the water, then meets his eyes with a brightening one of her own. His echoing of one of her words have her rolling eyes to the ceiling and straightening up again with hands lifting dramatically as she answers him, “Yes, harrowing! So yes, I am here to make her – how do you put it? ‘Make her scowl less frequently’?” She ponders on that for a brief moment before nodding and deciding that it was well put. “Exactly! Now that I know she was here, anyway. Faranth knows she needs it. Did you see that scar down her face?” She puts a hand to the side of her face where Jaya’s scar runs down, shaking her head at the injustice of it all. “She’s yet to even tell me where it came from! I don’t suppose you would know, hm? I mean,” she tacks on, perhaps before the man could answer, “I’m not even suppose to be talking to you,” she admits, laughter in her voice as she leans forward again. “Not just you, mind. Everyone. As if she can hide me in this Weyr or something.” Yeah, like that was going to happen. Shaking her head, “Her and her rules,” and such rules she’s clearly not obeying, and looking all the more mutinous as well.

Jonavan is used to being called all sorts of things but cute rarely makes the list, so it's with a bit of a snort that he starts to put Beddie's sweetsoap to use. He watches her with interest when not concentrating on the task at hand, intrigued by the points of similarity and difference between the sisters. "Hard to miss," he says of Jaya's scar, managing to get that much in amidst Beddie's near-constant conversation. "Makes it harder for you to impersonate her, too." Although really, once Beddie opened her mouth the game was up. "Why would she care?" he starts to ask about the need for secrecy, though the answer comes as soon as the question's left his lips, and he backtracks in a vague sort of way. "Well - I'm sure she's got her reasons."

“Isn’t it?” Beddie returns absently on Jaya’s scar, her gaze flicking off of Jonavan now once he starts bathing and back onto her broken nail. “A shame I can’t, though.” Turning her gaze abruptly on Jonavan again, “You know, when we were younger, we used to switch out on people all the time,” she relates, pretty much like she’s gabbing to one of her confidants. “People got fooled until one of us opened our mouths, and that was usually Bajaya. She always had something foul to say. Amusing, really.” Well, she thought it was. Pretty sure the other party wouldn’t have thought it so. She blinks a bit at his question on why would she care, lips parting as if there was an answer until he answers his own and both of her brows go up. “Absurd reasons,” she returns on that, appearing miffed for the moment. “Well, no matter. She does what she does, and I will do what I will do. What do you do, Jonavan?” she turns the tables on him then, eyes lighting on his face before a hand lifts up to stall him and tacks on, “Wait, let me guess.” Eyes narrowing on him for a moment, “You are a…Lord Holder’s son of some sort? Or a gardener? No, I’ve got it! A harper!” A smile lights her face on her guess, hands clasping together before her. This is probably why Jaya wants to secrete her sister away from the rest of the Weyr.

Incredibly, Jonavan - the man who has threatened to cut off his own ears if he has to listen to people yammering on unstoppably - doesn't seem to mind Beddie's chatter. "I'm sure she did," he mutters once, otherwise quiet, soaping and rinsing while she talks. "Harper?" he repeats rather than answer, pouring out some sweetsand for his hair. "What makes you think that?" The slightly disbelieving undertone gives it away that the guess was wrong. "How did you get there from Lord's son - or gardener?" The last is delivered with faint derision; apparently Jonavan does not consider it a good career choice.

It’s amazing that Jonavan hasn’t gagged her yet; many would have by now. Beddie doesn’t seem to notice whether he’s annoyed with her or not, but she is taking the fact that he hasn’t cursed her out yet as a good enough sign. His disbelief in her guess seems to go over her without protest, either. Eyes wide as she flicks a look over his hair and face, “Something about your face,” she answers that easily enough with a waggle of her fingers in his direction, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. “You don’t think you’re a harper? You have the look, I would think. I screwed a harper once and he wasn’t so…ah, what’s the word…roguish? Rough,” she points a finger in his way, nodding firmly to that. “You seemed cultivated, so that’s why I thought Lord Holder’s son at first. A bunch of prissy fools, really – not that I’m calling you a prissy fool,” she’s quick to backtrack on that with some innocence. “Just that you carry yourself different like them. Gardener was just a bit of wishful thinking.” Hands wave that last off, dismissing it, and possibly his faint derision as well. Still, “So, which is it? Harper or…?” Her demeanor remains curious, watching him bathe with no shame on her face.

At a bit of a loss, Jonavan looks at Beddie with sudsy hair, both hands at work to get a good lather going. "Harpers I've met aren't nearly as glamourous as you make 'em out to be," he settles for, which for him works as a dismissal of everything Beddie has designated for him, too. "Well, thanks," he adds a moment later to the retraction of 'prissy fool,' sarcastic without enough emphasis to make it mean-spirited. "There's some gardeners around if you're looking to screw one, if you can dodge Jaya for long enough," Jonavan helpfully notes before ducking under to clear the soap from his scalp. Resurfacing, he finally gives up his profession: "I'm a healer." Although he hasn't minded her presence at the pool until now, hardly embarrassed, he proves more reluctant to leave as it would necessitate full exposure. He puts off the problem by turning around to face the centre of the bathing pool and props both elbows up on the rim, for all intents and purposes set to stay and soak awhile.

“Oh cultivated hardly means ‘glamorous’, Jonavan,” Beddie crosses her legs again, her tone set to school him with those words without any hint of sarcasm or malice. It’s just that Beddie really does believe in the words that she’s saying – even if a lot of it could be taken as pure bullshit. “Haven’t ever met a roughneck harper before, though. But you’re welcome,” she returns on his thanks, bypassing the sarcasm once more since she perhaps thinks the man is thanking her for the compliment of her calling him a cultivated harper and not a prissy fool. “I was certain you were a harper. A healer, you said? Hmm.” Eyes look back at the healer in question, thinking on that for a moment before she slowly shakes her head. “Nope, don’t see it,” she decides on that, then leaning back to grab at her towel. But something he says has her in pause though, if only briefly. As she settles the towel over her lap now, “Do you know Baji- Jaya well?” she suddenly asks then, borrowing the name he just used for her sister and trying it on for size for the second time.

"You get all sorts," Jonavan gives as his opinion on harpers roughneck or otherwise, rolling his shoulders back and briefly closing his eyes. He doesn't try to correct Beddie's misunderstanding, likely considering a lost cause since the sarcasm seems to fly right over her head. He glances across, his mouth quirking into a vaguely questioning half-smile before he puts to her, "What are healers supposed to look like?" He doesn't seem surprised by her judgment though and has likely heard it before. As for the question, he answers blithely but obliquely, not giving the impression that he's aware that his answer misses the mark. "I've only been here a few months."

“Well they say the same thing about traders,” Beddie seems to agree, rolling alongside his opinion without disagreeing with her own. “Us Dicoris, in fact. They assume I should be…not the way I am,” she explains with non-chalance. “Being a Dicori. Anyway,” and hands clasp back together, the traderwoman rocking back idly on her hips as the hair she had piled on top of her head have now spilled down around her shoulders. “What do healers look like?” She pauses on that as if she was giving this question some thought considering she has just previously declared she didn’t see Jonavan as one. Suddenly, she holds her hand out then, fingers spread and palm held upwards as she states, “Give me your hand. I want to see your nails.” She has a straight face in place, fully expecting the man to comply. His missed answer gets the slightest of frown, and the woman only pauses briefly before saying slowly, “So you either know who she is, or you don’t.” It made simple sense to her, anyway, given the answer.

The healer gives Beddie the sort of look that suggests she's slightly mental, but nevertheless he sees no reason to refuse and obligingly holds out the nearer hand. The pads of his fingers are unsurprisingly shriveled from his time in the water, and the nails are short but trimmed. He even has decent cuticles. "I know who she is," Jonavan affirms this time, watching Beddie to see what she makes of his hand. "Most people do - she owns the bar. It doesn't even have a proper name that I know of, just 'Jaya's Bar.' Maybe you should name it for her." He offers this suggestion dryly and without even a smirk, which is quite a challenge as he imagines Jaya's reaction to that. In his mind's eye there are things smashing.

It’s quite possible that Beddie’s also used to such looks by now – even from her own family. Taking his hand now, she turns his palm upward, leaning over to peer closely around his nails as if in search for something. While doing so, “I only ask because you didn’t call her ‘barkeep’,” she notes her reason for asking, her eyes not straying to his. “She doesn’t have a proper name for that bar of hers? How dreadful, but it would make sense. It needs lots and lots of decoration! She is so lucky to have me for a sister to notice these things…” Hand gets turned over again, and then she looks up at him and says with some apology in her tone, “Well. These are certainly not harper nails,” she says her reading aloud, releasing her hold of his hand then and leaning back. “They are usually a little longer. Can’t be right all the time, right?” Doesn’t seem to bother her one bit, anyway. With a flicker of fingers in the air, “Well, no matter. Even I don’t look my trade. Keeps people guessing. How do you like being here so far, then? Miss the north any?” She’s not one to linger on a topic too long, hand lifting to brush at her dark hair from her shoulders.

"Or worse," is Jonavan's wry response to Beddie's remark on possible ways to refer to Jaya other than her given name. With his hand released, the healer gives his own nails a quick, critical once-over. "Wouldn't want a nail getting stuck and tearing a stitch," he points out, delighting in the slightly morbid detail. Arms tense against the ledge and then Jonavan hoists himself out of the pool, not so bothered that Beddie's there to see him do it after all. "It's alright," he judges, which is practically gushing coming from him, and hunts out his towel from among the heap of his discarded clothes.

That gets her attention. “Well she does hate when I call her ‘Bajie’,” Beddie lets slip, assuming Jonavan means nicknames and the sort, but just as quickly, the slight frown marring her features is gone for something a little more sunny. Eyes go towards those nails she had once examined when he does, his slightly morbid response getting a slight cringe from the traderwoman. She’ll even now lift hers and look at her own – which would obviously tear a stitch. Sighing lightly at that, “Only a healer would say such a thing,” she says in a slightly disappointed tone, though why would she be is really anyone’s guess. In either case, the tone is there and gone in an instant once he’s up and out of the pool. His answer to her question gets a briefly brow raise, then she’s chuckling a bit to herself and nodding a few times. “I am determined to find someone that says that they hate it here,” she lets him know, amusement coloring her tone. “Bound to be someone. Ah well. It was rather nice talking with you, Jonavan,” she adds in, making the assumption that he was leaving while she herself remained at the edge of the pool. She wasn’t really looking to head back to that bland bar anytime soon, anyway. “Perhaps I’ll see you around in my stay here.”

Jonavan files that one away for later when he's feeling especially annoying. He extracts the towel and wraps it around his waist, then bends to gather the rest of his things. "Maybe not," he says cheerfully, straightening. "Maybe dragonriders have rules against long nails. You know, could get caught in the middle of flight and rip right out." Jonavan is in the process of leaving, so the assumption's fair. "Perhaps," he agrees, noncommittal but with the intention forming to stop by the bar soon, where he hasn't set foot in the past couple sevendays. "Lots of people go round the bar, there's bound to be someone miserable enough for you there." With this last as parting advice, Jonavan gives her a nod and heads for the exit.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re quite morbid?” Beddie is quick to ask on the heels of Jonavan’s response, and there’s a slight smile on her face through it. Nope, she’s not one to judge, but she points things out all the same. “But that’s alright. I guess one can expect a healer to be.” She’s turning away from him then, returning back to her luxuriating at the pool’s edge before he had come by. Eyes closing as she lifts her head a little to the ceiling, “I’m sure,” she answers on his last, a back hand lifting up in a wave of farewell. “One can’t help themselves with the lack of color in that place. Ta!” Hand flicks, then drops, and the traderwoman is back to enjoying her peaceful evening in the shadows.

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