Logs:... Before Bros?
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| RL Date: 9 March, 2013 |
| Who: Nicky, Mave |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Does Nicky break the BroCode if Mave isn't really Waki's girl? |
| Where: Snowasis |
| When: Day 9, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Wakizian/Mentions, Kaeden/Mentions, Xhaeon/Mentions |
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| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern. Day's tipped over towards evening, lending the Snowasis a level flow of patrons, scuffling about their business, typically while chatting about others' business. Brusque comments about the fighting in the Living Caverns floats by a table near the corner, biding a wince to cross Mave's face, hidden partially by the hand she's tucked her cheek against. Feet floating above the floor due to her intense slouch, butt pressed into the back of the chair as it tips slightly with her unevenly distributed weight, she swings her toes, scuffing the ground. There's a little sheaf of paper on the table, being held down by the glass with it. Beaded with condensation, the glass makes a poor paper-weight, and the Snowasis a poor place to be composing besides, but here she sits, pushing her hand up into her bushel of hair and grimacing. At the end of a day of hard work, Nicky slinks into the Snowasis for a little downtime. After ditching his winter clothing he meanders through the crowd towards the bar, where he orders himself a mug of mulled cider. Once he's got it in his hands he turns to survey the 'Reachians gathered in the warmth, and his eyes fall on one delicate little figure in particular: Mave. After another glance around to see who's there and who could be watching, he sidles up to her, slipping into the next seat. "M-Mave," he says softly, leaning in towards her with his brow furrowed slightly, his lips set thoughtfully. "Wh-what're you doing?" To her name, Mave's head lifts attentively. Upon recognizing the sweet curls of Nicky's head, a note in her eyes darkens with hesitation. She sidles her butt forward in the chair, landing her feet and the chair's on the floor together with a simultaneous thump. "I'm..." gaze shifts down; pensiveness befalling her eyebrows as she peers at the paper like it's been forgotten. Fingers press down on the edge-- then swiftly tug it out, replacing another from her left on top of that mostly blank but scribbled on sheet. This new one has an unevenly drawn graph, filled about two-thirds with numbers, often crossed out and replaced. Considering the messiness of the sheet, Mave's conviction to have it out in front wavers, but she holds, eyeing Nicky with a half-bitten lip. "Numbers." Not unpleasant, but not quite as inviting as her smiles the day before. "Betting odds." "Oh." Nicky leans gently across to look, light brown eyes scanning over the figures but not really taking them in. He chews his bottom lip as he reads, then he leans forward on the table, resting his elbow on the surface so he can prop his cheek up in his palm. In that position, his gaze flickers between Mave, the sheets and his cider, soft and unassuming. "Um... what're, um, m-my odds?" Because he's assuming they're related to the hatching - which really goes to show just how closely he was reading. Gentle surprise evens out her features, so that she softly blinks at Nicky as he chooses to further engage. Cautiously, Mave's hands drift down to the side edges of her chair. Fft, fft, she scoots in, chair legs scraping on the floor, in order to meet Nicky's long lean. Briefly, they make a mirror: her gnawing on her lip, cheek in palm, where fingers grip into her hair. Then she tips her chin straight, leading those fingers to grab a strand of curly brown and tuck it into her bite. On this strand, she nibbles, scowling at the sheets in front of her until, gripped by the inhale portion of a sigh, she admits helplessly, "I... don't know. These are just the snake-ridden base sets," hand scooping up one side of the paper, she shakes it demonstratively, "And I can barely keep them all straight, and what does it matter, because," dropping the paper, hands drive into her hair, chin dipping forward as she starts to disappear into a huddle, skinny elbows poking out furthest, "I lost that research on the candidates and it's not like Wakizian's ever going to talk to me again." "Oh." Again. Nicky's favourite little word, perhaps? He looks guilty, biting on his lip harder when Mave sinks down into her sullen little slump. He's quiet as he thinks back to their meeting the day before, skimming through what he can remember - there's no doubt been a lot happening since then. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he reaches out to awkwardly pat Mave on her shoulder - a gentle gesture of reassurance. "Um... I-I took the papers, d-didn't I? So h-he can't be angry over that, and, u-um, I have them, anyway. Th-they're in the 'quarters." He leans lower, almost to her level, dropping his voice. "I d-don't think it's all that b-bad with Waki. J-just give him some time?" Within the huddle of her hair, Mave's lips pursue, feeling the well-intentioned pat. Her fingers curl and uncurl. As he offers the reassurance, questioning as it is, she begrudgingly lifts her head, concerned face surfacing from the nest of hair and hands. Filing that hair behind her ears, hands then flop onto the table with a soft noise. "Thanks," she mutters, resignation dulling her voice. "But, let's be real. I threw a bag in his face, and then yelled at him. He may not have thought I was terrible before, but I think I sealed it now." Fingernails dig into the table, following the furrow of her eyebrows. Her nose wrinkles to study Nicky's face, really feel out that it's him. Her shoulders tense then lower. "Wait, did you say you had the papers? Oh, that's right. You totally reached at my butt, didn't you." The bag to the face makes Nicky smirk, but not as much as the comment about 'reaching at her butt' does. That actually earns a bit of a coy giggle, as well as the obligatory blushing. He nods, flashing the gap between his front teeth. "I d-did reach for your, um, b-butt." He can't say it without grinning even wider. "A-and I tucked them into my a-apron while I was h-helping with Snowfire. They're s-safe, y-you can have them later." He raises his mug, watching her over the rim of it as he drinks. "W-Waki'll get over it, Mave. Don't worry." The cider is set down, and he leans over to bump, friendly-like, against her shoulder. "A-anyway, I'm glad I b-bumped into you here. I, um, w-wanted to ask you something." "You smirking smirker!" accuses Mave's voice, timed to the finger she waggles at his face, pinpointing the offensive expression. Hints of smiling when he giggles, a contagious disease, help ease some of the idea that it's actually offended her. Sadness still clings to the outskirt of her expression like age, but she's straightened, shaking her head, "See, you're allowed to laugh, but just because I'm a girl..." She trails off as Nicky assures her a second time, instinctive sulk softening at the use of her name. She sighs, hard, out her nose, rolling her eyes to the side. Other Snowasis-goers pass obliviously by, playfully bickering. Bumped, she rounds on him, to find Nicky's face has snuck persistently closer. Her freckles seem to deepen. She blinks wide brown eyes at him up close, tracing an idle fingers that hides nerves across the tabletop between them. Lips furl deeply, doubtfully. "Me?" "Y-you're better to speak to than any other g-girls I know here." Nicky shrugs, looking at the younger girl earnestly. "And I, um, n-need some... s-some help. W-with a girl." He swallows hard, lips twitching into a nervous smile. "A g-girl who I l-like, but who, um... I mean, I-I don't know if she likes me. I k-kinda asked her to the h-hatching party, and she said n-no, b-but she made me p-promise to dance and then... th-then she k-kissed me." It's a lot for the stuttering, shy teen to come out with, and he looks at Mave in complete confusion. "I d-don't know what that means." Doubt increases tenfold for the instant Mave contemplates herself as better, but it's wiped swiftly aside for the ardent listening asked of her. Wordlessly patient for the stuttering, her uncertainty sneaks in after, coiling her lower lip far inside her mouth where she bites down. Seconds later, it rolls back out with a soft pop. "Well." Which is all he gets for several agonizing more seconds while Mave braces the heel of her hands on the table and rocks slowly and deliberately backwards then forwards, easing through the stall. "I'd say." Another unintentional sentence. A shorter break now; she picks up steam, if not enthusiastic confidence when defining that it's purely her thought, "That it's almost always safe to say that she wouldn't have kissed you if there wasn't something there. Danced, okay. Maybe. To be polite?" A wince pinches one of her eyes; she squints at him thusly, then loosens to assure, "But kissing-- yeah, Nicky. I think that's good." Nicky relaxes a little, his grin growing and joined by a keen little twinkle in his brown eyes. "G-good is good." It's miles ahead of not good! "I was t-talking to Waki, but I n-needed a girl's opinion... um... i-if I wanted to, um, d-do something for her - s-something special? - t-to show her that I-I like her, um... do you think g-giving her a flower is a good idea? I thought m-maybe to match her d-dress. G-girls like flowers, right?" He's totally clueless, and in completely over his head. "Um. I-I have no idea how to do this sort of thing. I've never even -- it's not been s-something I've, um... I dunno, Mave. H-how do you even t-try and make a girl l-like you?" Questions, questions flooding in; Mave's mouth opens and closes for each, every instance interrupted by Nicky's continuing flow of stutters. When he's finally finished, she waits, chin almost pushed into her chest to stop from talking, to be sure. Then, raising her head slightly, passes her tongue over her lips thoughtfully. "Some do, yeah," she asides for the flowers, sounding not all that interested her own self, but allowing. "Seems like... if she's in a dress, and you're dancing, that's solid." Tilting her head, she drives her thumbnail into her mouth for chewing. "Really, it's like... if you thought of it. Gave it thought, you know. It's special? Sorry, that doesn't help." Dropping her hands to the table, she splays her fingers over the sheets and sheets of unfathomable betting numbers. They swim in front of her gaze as she thinks, hard. With a wiggle of her shoulders, she leans in closer to him, throwing one leg up onto the chair to prop her sitting. "I dunno, though. I never-- " but, spying the need-- or what she reads as need-- on his close face, she rescinds, struggling with her thoughts for his sake. "I think..." slow, ponderous, "I think that... it's not about making. You know? It's not about force. It's just about... spending time with someone and--- eventually, you'll both just kind of know if you do," in earnest, she's leaned closer, eyes distracted by his fascinating hair, "or... don't." "O-or do," Nicky says quietly, for why should he speak louder when Mave's there, and so close? He looks down at her with a nervous smile tugging inconsistently at the corner of his mouth, a thoughtful gleam in his eye accompanied by the tiniest quirk of his eyebrow, up beneath his thick forelock of curls. They could potentially be /very/ distracting, where they fall in over his eyes. "S-sometimes, just spending t-time with someone..." Yes, he's repeating her, but his inflection is slightly different. More surprised. Curious? Confused, definitely. There's a lot bundled into those words! He gently clears his throat, leaning in a fraction closer. "You're spending time with me." Look, no stutter! "Or do..." Mave agrees in daydreaming softness, because there's lively curls in her face that are not her lackluster ones. Concentration begins to tug her own lips, lifting a corner until she parts them to breath in, preparing to speak. The exhale fills the slice of space between them, teasing at warming his cheek. "Sure," conviction helps to bring her voice into the present, "You go to a-- " brown eyes drift down, spot the table, "-- bar," then lift; she stares purposefully into his eyes, wrestling an official presence into her features-- failure lurking at the corners of her youth. "See if the like stays. Once you guys get," thoughts coincide, colliding surprisingly, with action, "C-- loser." But her slur is not suggestive, rather, it's playful, as is the lighthearted jump up of her hand, balancing on one elbow rocking her a little back and forth. Fingers trace the air, then try to catch one of the curls in front of the eyes she's trying to watch. Cool it, hair! You're blocking her for-serious view. She pulls it aside, answering so wisely as to her time with him: "Well... sure." The grabbing of his curl breaks through the moment, and Nicky laughs awkwardly. He eases back a little, helping Mave out by tucking his hair back behind his ear. It doesn't stay there long - it never does, really - before it bounces back to freedom, falling right back into the line of his vision. "M-Mave." The way he says her name is whispery-soft, yet heavily laden with contemplation. "Um... w-would you be angry i-if I told you that, um, I-I thought I m-might've... k-kissed you?" There, it's said, out in the open - and Nicky's instantly regretting it as he blushes furiously and looks the other way with his teeth sunk deep into his bottom lip. Laughing breaks the restrained giggle out of Mave, shining happily throughout; eyes, lips, and the pleasant little sound she makes all game. "Oh," she murmurs in faux-sadness, sliding back on one elbow but breaching with her hand a second time, "It's down again. Casualty." Voice becoming distant again, her fingertip traces the path of the hair, ghosting along his cheek, "You know, you might just seduce girls with-- " Above her idle, meandering voice, her name breaks through, soft though it's been spoken. Some manner of the inflection rises a flush to her freckled cheeks even before he goes on, despite that her stare on him remains studiously intent, curious and unaware of her own coloring. And she keeps staring. Blankly, long after he's looked off, her eyebrows marking the train of thought across her forehead. But, quickly, it diminishes; she grins, rocking on her elbows absently. "Me," she laughs self-deprecatingly. But he's looking away still. "Never angry," is more soothing. Then, firming her mouth over his bashfulness, she tucks that reaching finger around his jaw, trying to turn him back towards her leaning. "Well," she tells him teasingly, half-disbelievingly that it's been broached at all, "You didn't, if that's what you're wondering. I think you'd know if you did." "O-oh, um, I kn-know I didn't," Nicky says bashfully, allowing his head to be turned to face Mave, but dropping his gaze to the No Man's Land between them. It's safe there! So long as she doesn't think he's looking at her boobs. "I'd know i-if I did." Coyly, his gaze flickers up to meet hers, and he gives her another of those awkward, crooked halfsmiles. "I th-think I'd know. Um..." He worries his bottom lip, looking away again, before looking back. "W-Waki might get mad, if I did." Dropping her finger from his jaw to that in-between space, Mave's finger flicks up, non-subtly indicating her face being up there. Her own stays trained on him, swaying lightly backwards with her bemusement. "Are you sure?" More teasing, somberness layered on too thickly to be true, laced with that wryness backed by a comically raised eyebrow. "Cause I'm suddenly not sure." Lips smack hard together as she shakes her head, nope. "And," ugh; the reminder of the other boy sends her shoulders shivering, and squeezing together. She links her arms through and through, hands stuffed at the crooks of the opposite one, "Wakizian can kiss my ass." Speaking of the act. Frustration sneaks in, feeding off of her enjoyment and turning it to shadows of frowns. "You do what you want." Nicky looks up when he's bid, blinking at Mave; it takes until she's finished talking for him to realise why she made him look up. "Oh! O-oh no, I wasn't... n-no, I w-wasn't looking th-there... just... there." He points. See? There's a tiny-weeny bit of empty space between them on the chair! That's where he was looking. Yes! But of course, now that Mave's mentioned certain parts, he can't help but look - and he quickly tears his eyes away, looking everywhere but at the girl. "N-not that th-theey're not, um, n-nice, or anything, b-but... I-I wasn't l-looking. N-not at first." She's no less panicked, jerking her head down to stare at her chest, over her shoulder at the butt planted on her foot so inelegantly; oh god, oh god. Do people look at that? Mave's sneer recognizes her absurd lack of figure before she schools the look off her face to, swallowing, aid Nicky's. "Oh, no, Nicky!" Fingers jut out for him, retreat unsurely, leading to her awkwardly shaking her hand between them. "It's fine-- I mean, don't say any of that to a girl," which she's apparently not, "but-- it's okay. Really." Despite that she's flushed to dying, saved only from that heated fate should the self-consciousness not finish her off first. She flies forward in her seat, palms aiming for his cheeks, forcibly adjusting his bashfulness. "Come on," she gushes reassuringly, though it might not be just for him, "What were we talking about?" Nicky's cheeks are likely hot beneath her touch, flushed as they are from so much blushing. He fixes his gaze firmly, intently on Mave's, leaning in just enough to block out the risk of looking down. There. Better, right? Only now... he's close. Too close, as a breath almost has the tips of their noses brushing. So he jerks back an inch or so, screwing his eyes shut tight and exhaling a long, spiced cider-scented breath. Focus! Focus is good. "K-kissing. We were talking about k-kissing." Right? Mave's hands leap off as he jerks, bolting from the hot burn of his blush straight down until, with a little determined squirm, she sits on them. Clearly, they are ten fingers of misbehavior. But her nose has lit up like a glow to that brush; red polka-dotted with brown freckles across her cheeks. Eyes cast down, angling off the table, she turns from embarrassed to solidly pondering. Wondering and uncertain; mystified casts down, lightening and darkening her glance simultaneously. "You were..." So much for we. Her gaze flicks up, daring, then darts down, thrown off by his squeezed eyes; he can't even look at her, yet-- an inch away is not far away. "Going to kiss me..." No better than a question. She'd almost forgotten -- how! "W-was I?" Nicky's eyes open wide and he blinks at Mave, lips parted in uncertainty. There's a moral dilemma for him to work out here, and he's really struggling his way through it. "C-can I?" The answer to that might help to set him straight in his thinking. Or it might not! But he looks at Mave with a confused cast to his features, from the bitten-down bottom lip to the concerned curve of his brows. "Um. I-I've never kissed anyone before, M-Mave. I... I d-don't know how." And that's the confession that breaks what fragile confidence he had, causing his shoulders to slump as he looks away once more. Weren't you? asks Mave panic eyes, fearful she's overstepped-- translated poorly boy-to-girl-- a thought driven out by several blinks at the next question. The simple absurdity of it. "Well." Sentence. Honest first thought stops her, mouth open. Thighs drive down aggressively on her hands, pinning them pointedly there. This time, she doesn't chase his fleeing face. "Sure..." muttered out, late, low; perhaps missed in his sorrowful slouching, and maybe she prefers it. Without her hands, tossing her head has to settle back her hair. It falls, irreverent, and generally bored with this whole will-they-won't-they; the soft half-curls have better things to do than lay across her high, protective shoulders. "There's, um." Forced, she yanks her hand out, smacking it into her mouth, crushing highly puckered lips. "Mmmm," goes muffled behind her new make-out partner, her sweaty palm. "And..." the hand falls dumbly. "I thought you said she kissed you." "On the ch-cheek." Nicky pats the spot. "And it w-was hardly a k-kiss. Just... j-just like... like this." He lifts his hand to gently ghost his fingers against Mave's cheek. "Like that, b-but with lips." Not really the kiss he's probably been making it out to be. "I-if I k-kissed you, you'd be my f-first. I d-don't think it'd g-go down well with, um, W-Waki, b-but..." He leans in tentatively, swallowing hard and puckering up his lips with almost cartoonish exaggeration. "Oh." Now she's borrowing his words, too. With her flush, even in the dim Snowasis evening atmosphere, ghosted fingers could probably leave a telling white spot. Lips... now she's looking at his. Struck by his words, Mave's eyes lift, comically ill-timed to miss his first advance. When she double-takes, her breath catches and the flurry of arguments nearly scrawl across her face: he's expecting, and she said sure-- can she afford to leave him hanging; can she not. Hand, low near her thigh, fans the air frantically as if sending it up to her lungs for survival. But, suddenly, too stilted to be romantic, she's swept into his lean, letting those over-enthusiastic lips find hers amidst the bustle of Snowasis that seems to have fallen to the wayside. Touchdown! ... and Nicky doesn't respond quite the way he'd expected to. The touch of lips on lips lasts for all of a few seconds - long enough for his eyes to open, his pucker to freeze, and his brain to kick into GTFO mode. He pulls back quickly, giving Mave a embarrassed, super-blushing smile, that's crooked enough for the dimple in his cheek to show fleetingly. It's a smile that's hard to maintain. "S-so we did it..." And he doesn't he look thrilled? Nervously, Nicky picks up his cider; it serves as a reason to stop talking, a shield against further kisses, and a mask to hide behind while he tries to work out his thinking. Lips are not a hand, as it turns out. Muffled mming fails to translate; Mave's brain dies, then jumpstarts back in with the whoosh of Nicky's hasty retreat. Eyes register that he's smiling, so she dumbly smiles, a haze and a half behind. But as she cools down, hand drifting down to her leg and tongue passing thoughtfully over her newly free lips, her expression evens out. And then begins to crash, piece by little piece, from each of Nicky's obvious avoidances and the general lack of hurrah occurring post-mortem. She swallows, a face darkened with thought leveling into practical revelation, "Oh, Faranth," she decides, lowly; the only thing that makes sense, "I suck." Nicky chokes a little on his drink with that declaration. "N-no! No, no you d-don't - I s-suck!" He sets his drink down and shakes his head adamantly, reaching out to take hold of Mave's hand in his own work-roughened ones. There's a gentle, awkward squeezing, and then he sets her hand back with a gentle pat atop it. "You're p-pretty. B-beautif-ful. I-I would l-love to kiss you i-if things were d-different, b-but... Waki." You know. His best bud? Nicky's hand goes to his forehead and rubs beneath his curls, before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm g-gonna have to t-tell him." "You like a-- " but then he takes her hand, "It was your-- " but then he squeezes it. Determinedly, Mave's mouth opens again, insistent to squeal on herself. But then he says she's beautiful. An unattractive hiccup escapes her, formed out of the bubble of squirming feelings wrestling in her stomach. "Why Wakizian..." is nearly a moan, exhausted with her confusion -- this flip-flop. You mean that guy who never wants to be her friend again? That one? Hard breath powers out of Mave's nose as she thinks, watching him think, stresses her hand into the edge of the chair. Feet writhe together, toes pinching inside boots. She stares down at her knobby knees, then up at his boisterous curls. Then, in a sweeping gesture, her jealous first date, that sweaty palm, brushes past a curl, adheres to his cheek. Tugs him, lightly tilting her head to try and press him sweeter, better, to lips that are softer. There's little resistance to be had from Nicky. Yes, there is some, but it's negligible; he's all too happily leaning into Mave for a second round of sugar. And it's less awkward this time, too - he doesn't exactly throw himself into it, but there's far less reluctance. And it lasts a whole lot longer, too, even if it's just your basic lips-to-lips deal. It would seem that he's forgotten how to breathe, though, as he has to pull back in order to gasp down a lungful of air. This time, though, he doesn't hide behind his mug, he grins like the feline that got the cream. "Th-that was nice." No one tells you how or when to stop, so lungs win out on both sides, with Mave's nose drifting across his as she lowers her head to gain that needed breath. Her hand, stuttering a bit in its place against the feel of his slight pull, holds enough ground to trail out, twining into one of his curls with a soft, nervous giggle stealing what she took of air. "Your-- hair tickles my nose." Helpful girl insight into kissing. Forwardness vanishes briefly, her eyes wide but, catching on the glee of his smile, she's infected; she grins, biting into it quickly and forcing the expression to sober. As practically as she can while edging on breathless, she determines, "Well... if you have to tell someone about your first time," as she lays it out, the matter-of-fact strengthens, helping to hide the insecurity, "It should be... at least worthwhile..." Nicky nods in agreement. It should be worthwhile, right? Which is why he grins impishly and reaches up to cup Mave's cheek in his hand, drawing her close for a repeat performance. It's still relatively chaste as far as kisses go, but he looks just as pleased with himself when he draws back. "D-did my hair t-tickle you that time?" Grinning, he tucks a strand of Mave's hair back behind her ear, then drops his hands down into his lap. "You made it worthwhile, Mave." Third time's the charm, unless you're an awkward teenager -- but Nicky's grin soothes Mave, easing her into the idea of another kiss, though she first startles into his hand. Her own flounders between them, before picking out his shoulder. As the kiss lingers, it drifts lower, losing definition and purchase, just laying benignly above his chest, then slipping away as they part. Fingers are kneading anxiously together between her knees, ankles folded primly, when he asks, lifting her drifting gaze back up to him and wrapping her lower lip inside the upper. It's a losing battle against the stupid grin that stutters out for the brush of her hair. This time, it manages to behave, sitting righteously in place as though bragging. Swallowing more of her stupidity, Mave clears her throat after, "Th--," nope, try again, "That's a good line." You know. For girls. Later. Knees squeeze in, knocking through her slacks. "Here... endth the lesson?" Her eyes on him shimmer with untamable contradictions, spanning from hopeful to disappointed. He got something right! Nicky blushes profusely at the compliment, biting down on his lip to stop his big grin from spreading too huge. "I-I think we ought to s-stop." He, too, looks a little disappointed, but he nods with conviction: stopping is the right thing to do. "I r-really liked it, though." A stray curl is tucked back behind his ear, only for it to, as probably predicted, spring back out again moments later. He blows it out of the way, then picks up his cider again. "You're okay w-with me telling W-Waki... right?" He's nodding, she's nodding. Mave's not precisely keyed in, but she's nodding, then, catching up, she completes a firm affirmative. "Good!" She blurts out, grappling for some semblance of that mature instructor note. Sidling back on the seat, she straightens her spine, putting a hand importantly on the sheets of paper, including the one left with a giant moisture ring from her long-forgotten drink. "Good, because then... you know, you won't be so nervous later. With." Her jaw disobediently clamps shut. A toss of her head frees it, "Whoever." Hand scrambles at her own hair, tuck, tuck-- untuck? Didn't he tuck-- who cares. Eyes on him prove that's what they're doing: this. Casual thing. She shrugs, trying at carelessness. "Yeah, Nicky... you do what you want to do. You guys are friends." "N-no, I'll still be n-nervous. I d-don't know if I'll kiss Hana. I don't know if she'll l-let me... or if I'll w-want to. I've only p-promised her a dance, Mave, nothing else." Nicky shrugs, drinking another mouthful of cider. "Would, um, you l-like to dance with a maybe-w-weyrling, at the Hatching Party? I'm not that g-good a dancer, but w-we could have fun, I bet." He smiles hopefully at her, leaning against the table to prop his elbow up there, and to rest his cheek against his hand."M-maybe you could dance with Wakizian, too. Y-you do kinda l-like him, right?" For once, Mave succeeds at disguising a reaction, merely managing to nod attentively at the explanation. Her fingers idly prod at the run-off dripping down the side of her glass on the table. Talk of dancing springs a grin back to lips; it falters, then lives. Eying him from the side, she then rolls that brown gaze in play exasperation so he can see. "Maybe-weyrling," she jests, she stalls, "Suppose I have to bet on you now. So unprofessional." Tap tap tap, finger against the glass. "So-- okay. We'll dance." She bolsters her smile bigger, turning her head on him fully. Giving him a straight-on view of the way her happiness cracks at his friend's mention. "Can we-- " not? But she snaps her mouth shut, humming a long, disjointed note. "Look-- Wakizian... I," her other hand spreads over her leg, then curls, picking at her pants above the knee, "still have a lot of old, not great, feelings about him from some mistakes in the past. And he has a," her hand jerks up to circle spastically at her face, "So. I don't know if I see us all being friends... right now..." Nicky reaches out to awkwardly drape his arm over Mave's shoulders, giving her a half-hug to reassure her. "It'll be f-fine with you and Waki. J-just give it time, ok?" He leans back casually, seemingly with no intention of moving his arm now that its there. "He'll come ar-round. I b-bet you'll be friends again, b-before the hatching, even. Sp-speaking of..." He digs into his pocket with his spare hand, pulling out a mark pouch from which he extrudes a Smith-stamped quarter mark. It's laid down on the table, and nudged towards Mave. "I w-want to split this e-evenly between W-Waki Impressing any colour, and, um, K-Kaeden, Emmy, um, Xhaeon and, um... whatever's l-left goes on Waki." Skinny and malleable, Mave folds right into that hug, even halved, leaning a second into him before rebounding softly. "Okay," she murmurs, gently grudging agreement. Her red-brown hair mashes under his arm with her light dependence on it. Till, after curiously eying the gesture, she recognizes these significance of the coinage. Lips part with the whirl of her excitement, sparking in her eyes. An enthused, greedy swipe digs the mark off the table for her to tilt and examine under the Snowasis' glow. Excruciatingly excited nodding bobs after each of his words, she scrambles to pick up her writing utensil, then pauses. "Xhaeon?" It echoes, tongue testing familiarity. She turns along her shoulder, along his arm, to peer at Nicky. Confusion turns to intrigue, neither quite berating him for the choice. "That's the guy who doesn't want to Impress so much?" Mave's acceptance of the hug goes down a real treat with Nicky. The commend on Xhaeon gets a nod in return. "Y-yeah, he's d-doing this to show the Smith C-craft supports the W-Weyr... but Wakizian's also a c-candidate. I-I'm, um, p-part Smith, so I guess I s-sorta represent them, too, so I r-reckon he's still here b-because part of him wants a dragon. M-maybe he doesn't realise it, yet?" The candidate shrugs, giving Mave a gentle squeeze. "D-did you finish your drink, yet? I-I can walk you back to the c-caverns, if you'd like. Wh-when you're ready to go, o-of course." Mave's lips form a soft 'o', while her lowered eyebrows suggest she's still mulling it over. "Well, he might be realizing," she notes, far closer to her normal practical, "when something bites him on the Sands." A quirk of her lips labels that as his problem; she pockets the mark in a flash. "Mmmm," as the glass is explored with a tip of her finger. "I don't think I even-- " *pop*. From the instant of Between, a blue firelizard loops down from above, squawking chattily until he sorts out Mave's hair from the rest, coming in to land, claws out, on her outstretched wrist. "My mother's," she remembers to inform Nicky after a second of scooting straighter in the chair. The blue hops off again, leaving Mave free hands to clamber for each stacked paper on the table. A grab swings a shoulder-bag off the chair's far back pole. In her sudden hurry, she flurries to prepare, then turns, remembering Nicky with a blink. "Sorry," hand twisting in a curl, she dips in to peck lips with hurried affection against his nose. "Walk later?" Cause she's already sidling around him, waving, and stepping backwards, "Oh, and Nicky?" And smiling. "Any girl would be lucky to get a flower from you." Then, there she goes: a slippery, scrawny little thing through the crowd. The blue's arrival startles Nicky. When Mave starts sitting up, he does too, dropping his hands into his lap like a child might do to sit 'properly' in a Harper class. He's all straight, and squared off! "O-oh," he says in soft disappointment when it's explained who the firelizard belongs to, and he watches as the younger teen packs up her things, ready to leave. "S-sure. I'll w-walk with you later." The logistics of it they'll just have to sort out, whenever later comes to be. Her parting words, however, leave him grinning warmly; if Mave thinks that, then he's inclined to believe that it could be true. Without a drink to finish, he soon gets up to forge his way through the miserable weather outside, and into the warmth of the candidates quarters for what will no doubt be another insomnia-filled night. |
Comments
Comments on "Logs:... Before Bros?"Wakizian (Wakizian (talk)) left a comment on Sat, 09 Mar 2013 22:40:38 GMT.
Brotrayed! Woe!
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Sun, 10 Mar 2013 06:04:38 GMT.
AAAARG. STOP. TOO MUCH PRECIOUS-NESS. CAN'T. TAKE IT. NNG. Nicky and Mave sitting in a bar~ K-I-S-S-I-N... bar.
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