Logs:A Bit of Home
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, G'vri |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'vri brings Dee a belated turnday/weyrwarming gift and they wax nostalgic about Southern Weyr/home. |
| Where: Dee's Touch of Pink Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 10, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Gavrik/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, I'dro/Mentions, J'zen/Mentions, Ka'ge/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Finally finished~ Back-dated. |
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| Dee's weyr sees more than a handful of visitors on a regular basis. Some might be friends, others are decidedly just trying to get in her good graces, but all seem to be lending a hand to the task of taking secondhand goods and making them nicer - re-sanding and staining dented furniture, patching up this or that. Tonight, though, there's no sound coming from within Dee's weyr, though the glow light spills out onto the ledge where Taeliyth is watching the bowl, so surely someone is at home within. Someone moving past the gold and into the dragon's part of the weyr which doubles as receiving room with its stone table and chairs and now, paint drop cloths over everything and paint jars and other accouterments spread out on top, would find Dee in overalls and kerchief, paint stained and contemplating her next move as the formerly cream wall becomes a blend of colors by a novice's hand. Tovriath warns Taeliyth of their imminent company more than he asks for her permission before his rider is showing up at their weyr. G'vri moves tentatively past the young gold after a brief but respectful greeting, speaking up as he continues to offer a warning similar to the one that he may or may not have been aware of Tovriath offering. "Doll? You don't have-- you're decent, right-- Oh, hey." The last comes when he actually settles blue eyes on her overalled form, smiling at her with a crudely wrapped jar, that he's probably forgotten about for the moment, held in his hands. He must not trust either dragon to keep him from walking into something awkward. Taeliyth's eyes briefly focus on the approaching form after the warning, tipping her head toward the Southerner before shifting a little and looking back toward the bowl. Dee twists toward the entrance at the sound of the voice. "Well, colorful, but decent," the teen answers with a grin. "Just deciding if I think more yellow is in order," a wave of a hand indicates the general area in question. There doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to the colors. "Come in," she invites with beckoning hand smeared with drying blue paint. "Would you like something to drink? I finally have my own selection of tea and klah and booze," another gesture with the hand to where those things are not yet put away on the top of a set of cabinets against the wall. "You sure you should be offering booze to men who randomly show up in your weyr?" G'vri certainly isn't sure that she should be. "What will people think?" That's more teasing. And he does add, "I wouldn't mind a drink. What kind of booze does a goldrider keep in her weyr?" he wonders as he looks over at the cabinet and then seems to remember why he came here in the first place. "I got you a present. I guess you could call it a present, anyway." The bronzerider shrugs, but moves closer so she can either take it or point him at somewhere to set it down. Inside the jar? Plain old boring sand. "Are you Men?" Dee wonders, having rocked up onto her toes and the need to question arrests the motion there as she squints at the bronzerider, as if trying to see the 'Men' where there's 'Gav'. "I didn't know. I always drank the cheap stuff at home," apprentice salary and all that, "but the barkeeps in the Fountain recommended me some bottles. I have whiskey, and something fruitier, aaaand some wine," she's twisting again as if she might go to the bottles to see what else might be there before she's distracted by, "Gav," a delighted use of his name, "you didn't have to get me a present." That doesn't stop the girl from rocking forward to reach out and take the item. "Did you remember it was my turnday a couple sevens ago? Or is it just--" Something briefly sours her expression but it's gone in a flash. Probably, she's gotten too many 'just because' presents lately. "I do like to think I'm a man, anyway." What man doesn't like to think that about themselves? Not this one! G'vri glances at the bottles, but his focus returns to the jar and Dee, and he looks a bit sheepish after her question. "I did remember it was your turnday. But I'm not sure this should still count for that. I felt... I still feel weird coming in here like this." There's a beat before he continues, gesturing with a nod to the sand, "Rik's girlfriend said it was sweet, though, so I'm gonna stick with that, if you don't mind. It's from Southern. The cove where you guys liked to play." G'vri's first words elicit a laugh from Dee, "Of course you are, but not the sort of man that counts as 'men' that I shouldn't be offering drinks to," she's apparently decided, smile bright. Unwrapping the jar as he speaks, she falls silent, staring at it. With the greatest of care, the brunette turns and steps to place the jar in the middle of the table where it's safe before turning and taking the steps needed back toward the taller man before she launches herself, bodily, against him, arms curling around his neck and embrace tight. "It's the best turnday gift I could have gotten." Her voice? Yeah, there's the telltale in her heartfelt tone that if he gets a look at her face there'll be tears there. Fortunately G'vri is a pretty solid person to launch oneself at, and he wraps his arms around her in turn. He's careful, or at least trying to be careful, not to hold her, but he does seem to appreciate the embrace more than a little, relaxing under her arms. "I'm glad you like it, Doll. Miss those days sometimes, you know? Wish I'd appreciated them more now that they're done. Story of life, though, right?" That's usually how it goes. Don't appreciate anything until it's too late. "I miss those days more than sometimes. I'm going to make my weyr-- the inside," Dee gestures carelessly to the wide doorway that now has at least a curtain for privacy that leads to her sleeping room as she steps back, "look like a bungalow." She beams up at G'vri for that. "But I miss the sound of the ocean and the feel of sand between my toes and everything about Southern." She reaches for his hand, meaning to take it to lead him toward where the drinks are. Now that they're waxing nostalgic, drinks are definitely in order. The painting? It'll keep, apparently. (Or maybe drunk painting is in the cards; that's sure to work out well.) "Do you visit home much? I'm nervous for when we learn to between. I'm afraid it will be weird to go there now. Or anywhere." She talks fast, as if her heart had waited for the right person to pour all this out to; evidently, tonight G'vri can be Mr. Right. G'vri lets her take his hand and lead him to the booze without even a hint of complaint. Booze seems like a pretty good idea now. "The ocean. Shards, I miss that. Bonfires on the beach and falling asleep drunk with someone or another." G'vri sighs for the past, and shakes his head. "Not as often as I'd like, but a couple times a seven, usually. Not for very long. Tov likes to keep tabs on the girls and someone needs to keep Rik in line." There's humor in his words. "Suppose it'll be harder for you. We could probably work out another transfer for Tov and me if we really wanted. But." But Dee's unlikely to get that chance with Taeliyth. Dee looks nearly taken aback by the idea as she spins round to give a wide, wide eyed look up at the older man. "Oh, I hope you won't," tumbles out without any more restraint than the rest of her words about Southern. She sucks in her lower lip a moment before releasing it, "Things haven't been the same with Jem and me since we Impressed. I don't even know why, they just-- it's like there's this hole where Jem ought to be, where everything that's home ought to be. You're not my brother, but you're a piece of home and maybe it's selfish but having you here makes me feel a little less lonely." She shrugs her shoulders a little helplessly. Seeming to have decided that's enough probably-too-intense conversation without drinks, she turns to the bottles and moves two glasses to the fore while she lets her hand hover over the bottles. "Preference?" is asked in a tone that's forced lightness. "What's easiest to replace? I don't want to go encouraging you to drink your good stuff on account of me or anything." Basically it means that G'vri is willing to drink whatever she's willing to share. "I don't have any plans of going anywhere anytime soon," he continues once the drinks are decided on, such that they are. "It's probably hard on Jem. With all this. Rik was pissed at me for awhile after Tov, you know. And I think he holds it against me every time he doesn't Impress. But he always comes around sooner or later. Bet Jem'll do the same." She reaches for the whiskey, which has already been opened before, and pours generous helpings into each glass before turning to offer one of them to him and follow it up with the intention of gently clinking those glasses together before Dee takes a swallow of hers, makes a face, and then smiles. It's not as crappy as what she probably grew up drinking, but it's not the best quality either. It's probably something she actually bought rather than was gifted for 'important company with big knots'. "Maybe. Maybe Lucuxyth has changed him. Maybe Fort and Taeliyth have changed me. It's like we don't fit together anymore." She sighs and shakes her head, looking back to the table and the sand there, expression more than a little wistful. "Was Rik jealous that Tov chose you?" G'vri takes the glass, clinks gently and then takes an experimental drink to know what he's getting himself into before taking another one. He must approve. "Could be. You do seem a bit different, I guess. But... not sure that's because you are or if it's just because I'm--" His voice cuts off and his gaze drops slightly to her overalls before rising back up, brows furrowed. He looks over at the sand instead. "He wasn't old enough to stand when Tovriath found me, so I think he thought it was just cool at first. But I think he figured that meant he'd Impress a bronze his first time or something." And he didn't, obviously. "Well, I am a turn older," Dee points out, affecting briefly an air of elegance and refinement, her pinky lifting from the glass as she sips again. The look-- the glimpse of what Dahlia could be-- it's lost in the next moment when she grins. "And they're filling my head with everything I need to know to be Weyrwoman," this with a soft sigh, "It's enough to change anyone." Abrupt comes the young woman's offer, "Want to go sit on the loveseat? It's more comfortable than these chairs. We can bring the bottle. And there isn't a bonfire, but there is a hearth, so there can be fire which is a bit like home sort of." If you squint. A smile comes as he watches Dee, a gentle sort of smile that he's probably not entirely aware of outside of the fact that he's generous about that sort of thing. The abrupt question takes him a moment, but then he nods. "That sounds nice. Real nice. Need to see how much better they have you goldriders living around here. Someone needs to keep you in check if you start letting this all go to your head," he teases. He's probably well aware of how goldriders tend to be kept, after all. "Taeliyth doesn't have a problem telling people that she-- we, really, don't like our space, but I'm working hard to make it something better. I'm sure it sounds terrible when I say I don't when we're given so much space by comparison." Dee does sound like that makes her genuinely feel bad, looking the gift runner in the mouth. She leads him, without guiding hand this time since one is needed for her glass and the other for the bottle in through the curtain to the sleeping chamber. It's not so grand a space, but the way it's been arranged with the furniture from the stores and touched up, it's cozy. The loveseat has more than the desirable amount of sag, but still serviceable, set off diagonally from the hearth so it doesn't block the heat getting to the air around the more distant bed. There's a low table with a drape of faded marigold fabric over it and this is where Dee sets glass and bottle, moving to slip past the bronzerider as she invites, "Make yourself at home," before moving back the way they came to retrieve the jar of sand (which takes two hands to carry because no chances are being taken here) and return. "Doesn't matter what it sounds like to anyone else. You're gonna have to live here for a long time." Maybe he should stop reminding her about that. "You oughta be happy about it. Comfortable, at the least." G'vri scans the chamber, but not too carefully. He's here for the loveseat, the hearth and Dee's company. It's the first he settles himself into, off to one side to leave space enough for the goldrider when she comes back. "This is nice, though, you know. Not home, sure. But... this is home now, right? And you'll be able to go to any beach once you can between properly." Optimistic guy, this G'vri. "Not... long enough," Dee answers with a sigh once the all-important task of placing the jar on the ceramic tile that surrounds the hearth is done so it can warm a bit. "I mean, they say that in the Interval golds can not rise for four turns at a stretch and still be considered healthy and viable." Perhaps it's interesting that Dee seems to already have looked into this when they can't have had the mating flights lectures yet. The girl looks out toward the ledge and then shakes her head. "I could hope she takes that long, but I have a feeling she won't wait nearly long enough. Then I'll move to the weyrleaders' complex." She can say this without stutter but not without blush as she settles in beside the other Southerner. "But you're right, whether I'm here or there, this is home now. And in another month, we'll be betweening and there can be beaches," she smiles at him. "I think there are some far enough away from Southern to still be Southern-y without it having to be an official visit that Weyrwoman Hattie and Weyrwoman Ali and my mother need to know about. Do you know some? Could Tovriath show us?" The necessary images, presumably. "That's true," G'vri nods along to her words, blue eyes moving between Dee and the hearth once she's settled. "Do you want her to make you Senior? It seems like a lot of responsibility. I bet you could get someone transferred here who would be more than happy to take the knot. But that could also mean you never become Senior at all." He's considering these options himself, voice thoughtful, more than telling her things she no doubt already knows. After another drink, he says, "We know lots of places you could go once you can. We'll show you." Of course they will. G'vri might not share everything with everyone, but Dee is practically family. Dee's smile is briefly melancholic, "I've never wanted any of this, Gav. I came to Stand to keep Jem out of trouble and then to go home, back to my plants and everything I love. Then there was Taeliyth." The goldrider shifts so she can sit against the larger man, just as one might at one of those bonfires of the days of yore. "Taeliyth wouldn't see her home handed over to strangers. She couldn't stand by a foreign queen and it would kill her to leave." Hazel eyes lift as she twists her head to look up at the blond man, tear-bright but with a strained smile that holds some of the resolve of her voice manages, with just a touch of tremulousness, "So we will be Senior, in a turn or three." As she looks back to her drink and takes another sip, she clears her throat, "I'll be grateful for your guidance. With the beaches." "Well," begins the bronzerider, "You can have plants here. You can visit everything you love. And find new things to love. Takes time." He knows that much from his own experience, transplanted into a new Weyr without much of his own say. G'vri's arm lifts and wraps loosely around Dee as she sits against him. "You'll be a good Weyrwoman, Doll. You care about folks. I worry more about whoever ends up your Weyrleader. He better be a good man." Or Gav might need to get all big brother-ish on him, judging by the way he says it. "Not that I don't think you can keep a man in line all on your own," is quieter, more teasing, but completely sincere. "Oh, but I can't," Dee answers the last with sad bemusement. She turns her head into his chest, look one of embarrassment. "Maybe I'll have better luck with a Weyrleader than a-- well, not even a boyfriend. Any recommendations for keeping men in line? What's worked on you?" Her look is playful. With other women, this might be a veiled attempt at manipulation, but Dee's look is guileless, her curiosity and sincere interest for what she might try with whoever troubles her. The rest is left to fall, who wants more melancholy when the fire is nice, the drink is decent and the company is good? He's taking a drink when Dee asks what works on him, and G'vri coughs into his glass. Smooth. It takes a moment for him to be able to speak again. More or less. "Well. I... I don't know?" He's not being entirely honest, but he's also blushing just a little bit. Maybe it's the whiskey. "Guess it depends on the man. Just... be confident and don't let any of them run over the top of you, you know? People will try to take advantage of you being young and inexperienced and all. But you'll be the constant in the Weyr for turns and turns, not whoever happens to be your Weyrleader at any given time. Remember that, yeah?" "I--" Dee starts and then falls oddly silent, looking after a moment like she's dazed. She tries for sound again, but nothing comes when she opens and closes her mouth. Eventually, if he's patient, she manages to articulate, "I... never really thought about that. That a Weyrleader is not forever. But a Weyrwoman..." She chews her lower lip. "It makes it all the more important that I learn everything," everything, and she does look strangely more relieved and more worried at the same time in light of the revelation. G'vri is a patient man. Silence doesn't make him uncomfortable, generally speaking. And it conveniently gives him a chance to finish off his glass and reach carefully for the bottle so he can pour himself a bit more whiskey, offering to top off Dee's while he's at it. "You'll learn everything you need to know in time." Of course it's easy for G'vri to look at it like that, a man with practically no responsibility to speak of. "And you'll have Hattie. And any weyrwomen who Impress from now on." Does the idea of having to train new goldriders make her feel any better? "I do have Hattie," Dee chews her lip, "and-- I mean, what if whoever Impressed gold here next is older than me? More experienced? Someone formidable, like Hattie?" She looks up to G'vri, lines of concern showing on her forehead. "Faranth, Gav, I wish I felt like I knew what I was doing. I used to, with my plants. If Taeliyth had been any other dragon, any other color, I think I'd prefer the same as you once told me, a wingrider's life to that of a 'second or anyone who was anyone." She shakes her head and drinks deeply. "I want to go back to the beaches. The bonfires. Just for a little while." The words come wistfully. "It'd be impossible for whoever Impresses to have more experience being a weyrwoman than you. But it doesn't matter, anyway, does it? You'll be Senior. They can't take that away from you." G'vri is really trying to be comforting here. For someone who has some sort of aversion to responsibility, maybe he's doing an okay job of it? Maybe not. "You'll get to the beaches and bonfires again. Even if I have to take you myself. Just promise me you won't get mad at me if I get drunk and try to tell you how sharding pretty you've gotten." It's all of teasing, sheepish and slightly uncomfortable. "It's the hair," Dee tells G'vri with a laugh, one hand rising to push through the short locks. "Never had a reason to cut it before, so how was anyone to know how pretty I was under all that hair," there's levity in her tone. "I'm thinking of letting it grow after we finish this month's training and I'm deemed competent with continued practice with my flamethrower." She flashes the bronzerider a smile, before touching briefly back to the first topic, "It would matter how she," the next goldrider, "is in the same way it would matter how you are being both G'vri and 'a Man'," the throwback comes to the earlier question. "Being a Man doesn't erase your Gav-ness anymore than her lack of experience or age might eclipse her formidableness." "The hair," says G'vri as though he's just now noticed it despite the fact that it's been that way for months and months. "I knew it was something," is added with a mirthful smile. It lingers even as Dee continues into the rest. "My Gav-ness." It's an amused echo. "What exactly is that? Is it something I could use as a pick up line in a bar?" Because it does, admittedly, kind of have a ring to it. "I don't know. I suppose for the more wholesome sort, it would be a bit of a turn on that you're not only handsome but also thoughtful and kind and a good listener. It does make you sound rather like boyfriend material though," Dee teases with a grin. "I suppose if you don't mind breaking hearts though, Gav-ness could come in handy in a bar." She finishes her glass and leans forward to take the bottle to refill. Instead, she ends up drawing the bottle back with her and drinking from it instead. Like at a bonfire. "Faranth. No. Don't say that. I mean, I'll take the handsome and thoughtful and kind and everything. But, really? Boyfriend material? I'll never get laid if you start spreading that around," he laughs, probably confident that she won't. Can she even listen to him talking like that? "Anyway, you only break hearts when you set up the wrong expectations. You I could see breaking some hearts." He definitely doesn't mean it as an insult. The first makes Dee laugh, a happy full sound; they might really be at a bonfire, drinking and talking and laughing if they just closed their eyes. She beams up at the bronzerider, "Never fear, your secret is safe with me. Unless, you know, I come across some very deserving woman -- or man," she amends with a dimpled smile, "and I decide to try my hand at matchmaking. Fortunately for you, I'll probably be too busy for the rest of my life to try anything like it. And for breaking hearts. Although, I suppose I already have, but not any that have bedded me." She sighs and leans back against the seat with the bottle, sipping again. "My heart and my bed have never had much to do with one another. I'm a Weyr girl through and through that way." The arm around Dee's shoulder tightens slightly, a sort of embrace, before it relaxes again. G'vri finishes off the rest of his glass and leans forward to put it down. "It works best that way, I think. But I don't think you'll be that busy. You're sitting here now and we're having a nice time. Pretty sure you can manage at least that much with anyone. I will hope you're too busy for matchmaking, though. At least where I'm concerned." No hurry for any of that nonsense, here. Except, "I've been having a hard enough time keeping my heart out of things as it is." "Oh?" is too innocent an inquiry that invites response, and her addition of, "Even now I'm supposed to be painting," doesn't help offer much in the way of distraction for Dee to not pursue the first inquiry. That innocent inquiry makes G'vri look at Dee like he hadn't even realized he said something interesting. Not until it's too late, anyway. "No, no, no. We don't need to talk about my heart. Or my bed, for that matter. Not unless we're sharing a bed together or something." He clearly thinks this is in 'out of the question' land and so he's therefore safe. "Do you need help with painting?" "Not when we're drinking. But maybe later. Taeliyth doesn't like the cream." The girl gives a glance over her shoulder toward the bed thoughtfully. "It would probably be more comfortable to fall asleep in the bed than on this thing. But is a crick in the neck part of the bonfire experience?" Dee wonders aloud as she drinks again from the bottle before leaning with the intent of refilling his glass. "That's not the sort of bed-sharing I meant," says G'vri with a snort and a slight, affectionate shove at Dee. "It would be more comfortable," he can agree with, however. "But maybe I should take off and fall asleep in my own bed." It's not really a good sign when G'vri is thinking about sex and Dee at the same time. He doesn't seem to be in any rush to actually leave, though. Not when she's filling his glass again. "You weren't specific," Dee points or with a grin, nudging him with her knee. "You can if you like, but that's not the bonfire experience, for certain." Still, she doesn't insist. "Besides, you wouldn't have mentioned it if you didn't want to talk about it and I, like you, am the elder sibling and have refined listening skills." This dramatically intoned claim is evidence that the whiskey is working its magic. The fact that she shifts so she can place her crossed ankles across his lap is further evidence. G'vri lifts his newly refreshed glass to that, but it takes him a few moments to actually say anything. It requires thought. And more whiskey isn't really helping his thinking go faster. "Sometimes I feel like sleeping with other people is hurting the person I've been sleeping with more than other people. But I don't really want to not be with other people. But I don't really want to hurt them. And I don't know what to do about it." The cross angles across his lap will soon have a hand resting on them. "I haven't even slept with the person I think I'd like to sleep with more than other people and I already feel that way," Dee empathizes with a sigh. "I wish there was a way to have freedom and still get to be with the person you want as much as you're comfortable and not have it hurt them, or not have it ruined for becoming more of you figure out you want that." She's making drunk sense at least, sounding disgruntled. "We're too young to be settling down with a single person, aren't we?" "Too young. Shards, especially you. Someone told me once that you shouldn't settle down at all till you're thirty or something. But I guess if you know, you know." G'vri shrugs one shoulder against the back of the loveseat and then takes a drink. He doesn't have any good answers. "If I was selfless, I'd probably stop seeing them entirely. But I don't know if I can be selfless." "I don't think anyone can be that selfless, really, and if they are it's only because they feel happier that they're able to say they have been than saddened by what they've given up. "There's probably a line where you have to put a stop to it," she muses, "but it would be nice to stay on the right side of the line. "It's not bad to have a someone, I don't think, but thirty sounds about right to me." It's wistful. Dee looks at the blond man thoughtfully. "Maybe you should take your someone home and see how they fit there. If they enjoy the bonfires. I would want to." If their places were exchanged. G'vri considers it for a few moments, uncertain expression saying more than he does before, "Not sure it'd be a good idea. But maybe. Don't really like the idea of having that much affect on someone else's feelings." Poor, poor G'vri. Someone likes him. His life is so horrible. He sighs, swallows a large gulp of his whiskey, and starts to lean forward on the loveseat. "I'm gonna-- I need to go," he tells Dee, patting her leg before he's rising up to his feet. Dee obligingly shifts her legs, but sways when she gets to her feet. It makes her stumble a little when she reaches for G'vri to give him a hug. "It'll get better, Gav. Just... be you." She has faith in him says the warm, drunk smile she gives him. He reaches out for her in turn to help keep her from stumbling beyond him. G'vri's hug is affectionate, a little reluctant to let go, but he says once he draws his head back, looking down at her with a measure of glassy-eyed concern, "You gonna be okay on your own?" "Sure, sure," Dee waves off his concern with a grin. "I'm just going to bathe and get in bed. Taeliyth's keeping an eye on me." She taps her finger against her temple to indicate just what kind of eye it is. "She might also be laughing," the girl squints out toward the ledge where there's no noise to speak of, but she must have some reason to suspect. Dee pushes up onto her tiptoes to place a kiss on G'vri's cheek. "Thanks for bringing me a little bit of home, Gav. It means a lot." Not just the sand, but the almost-not-really-a-bonfire-experience. G'vri has a small, uncertain smile for Dee assuring him she'll be fine. He's not entirely convinced. "Anytime you want, Doll," he murmurs in the wake of the kiss to his cheek. He looks down at her, gaze lingering a little too long, and then his head tilts as though he intends to kiss her in a much more intimate fashion. At least until he clearly thinks better of it a moment later, an apology stuck in his throat. He's pulling away from her in the next moment and turning to see himself out in as big of a hurry as he can drunkenly manage. |
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