Logs:A Guy, a Girl and a Gather
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| RL Date: 26 August, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier is looking to get away after all the time stuck at the Weyr. He runs into Lycinea and procures her companionship for the evening, but not the night. |
| Where: Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr, and Gather Grounds at Bitra Hold |
| When: Day 19, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lara/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| It's a dreary day in High Reaches, the skies overcast and drizzly. Lya is sitting on a bench along one of the walkways in the caverns, looking bored and dressed in her typical mismatched and very patched garb. She's watching the people go by, her hands gripping the bench on either side of her grey-legginged legs. The leggings, though, look to have been dyed badly, or perhaps bleached in part by accident. Although, with Lya's dazzling personality, maybe she's made an enemy in the laundry. There's little opportunity for H'vier to slip away for fun these days, so he's in good spirits when he happens upon Lycinea. Actually, it's less that he happens upon her than it is that a more attractively clothed woman passes in front of her and the bronzerider's attention follows after it. And then it's distracted by... whatever horrible fashion statement the girl is trying to make. "No," he says firmly and disapprovingly as he approaches. "Faranth. What is this?" Given that he sort of just gestures at Lya as a whole, it's not very specific. Lya's eyes followed the woman too. Her look briefly a little wistful. Only her wisting is interrupted. Blue-green eyes jerk over to the approaching bronzerider and brows lift high, "What do you mean? Are you going to tell me now that you don't come to these caverns to deal with kids either? Because you can stuff it before you even breathe it." Defensiveness is only natural with a big pervert bearing down on her. "Well, I don't. Generally. Unless it's to pick up my daughter. But this?" Again H'vier gestures at Lycinea with a frown. "What are you doing today?" That's neither a weird nor abruptly different subjected question at all. "Are you free?" Nor that. "No, I'm attending tea with Lady Benden," Lya answers prettily, folding her arms over her chest. She's free! And finally castless! "Why do you want to know anyway?" "Rest day. I'm taking full advantage now that the eggs have hatched and Reisoth will actually spend some time away from the Weyr. We're going to a gather." No doubt she's totally engaged in this very interesting dialog of his. "Come with me." That probably could have been a question, but H'vier doesn't sound like he'll accept her declining the invitation. Totally. With the way she's staring at the ceiling as he blah blah blahs, there can be no doubt. The word 'gather' does pull her interest back and her blue-green eyes are going wide. Lya has to even repeat the word, "A gather?" She's getting on her feet. It's a magic word, you see. Apparently she'll go, and with only a look of suspicion after following him a few paces. That's when she has to say, "Wait. Why are you taking me to a gather?" That's right. H'vier turns to lead the way, but then she's asking questions and he glances back at her with furrowed brows. Why is she asking questions? "Because I think it will be amusing. And I would really like to see what you look like in clothes that don't look like... that." At least it's that he wants to put clothes on her instead of taking them off, right? Why is she asking questions? Lya gives him a funny look. Gather, clothes. One hand moves to tug her braid self-consciously. "I don't have any gather clothes." She misunderstands. "No, I didn't imagine that you did," says H'vier, turning now to face her again. "I meant to find you something proper once we arrived. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Pretty new clothes? A pair of nice shoes?" All girls like that, right? Well, gee that sounds great. Only, H'vier's a pervert, so can he blame Lycinea for wrinkling her brow and asking, "What do I have to do?" Because surely these things don't come for free, do they? "Nothing," is the first thing that comes to H'vier's mind. "Well, no. That's not true. I want you to keep me company and maybe do me the favor of a dance or two. Otherwise, you can do whatever you like." And because he is truly aware of what she's really asking, "I have no expectation of sex. Unless you decide that you'd like that, too." He might be teasing? She wrinkles her nose. That should say 'fat chance' loudly enough for the bronzerider to hear it without her saying to the last. But the only thing Lya actually says is, "Does it matter if I don't know how to dance? I've never-- I always work the feasts. I've never been to a gather before." Sheltered, sheltered Lya, for all that she grew up in a Weyr. "Fortunately for you, I'm fairly competent myself. If you follow my lead, no one will be the wiser." H'vier eyes her for another moment, then turns to continue on his way. Whether he expects her to join him or let him leave by himself is unclear, but he is heading off in the general direction of the bowl now, either way. "Okay," Lycinea agrees after a hesitating moment, making quick steps to catch up to his longer strides, soon enough at his heels and following to the bowl. In the bowl waits Reisoth. He's wearing straps that are nicer than usual, though Lycinea is probably unlikely to have a frame of reference. "Don't tell me you've never been on a dragon, either," he teases her as he leads the way right up to the big bronze. From the straps he unfastens a flight jacket, sized for himself, and offers it over to her. He's a bit more accustomed to the temperature changes. Besides, it will hide her for awhile once they get where they're going. If Lya realized the dual purpose of the jacket, she probably wouldn't accept it as she does, pulling it around her shoulders, the thing distinctly oversized on her relatively petite frame. "I've been on a dragon," it's defiant. Does he hear the quiet qualifier of, "...when I was six." She certainly shows no fear of Reisoth, so that's something, although it does beg the question: if she were afraid, would she show it anyway? Her brave face is pretty convincing. "Good." H'vier ignores her quiet words, if he hears them at all and Reisoth lowers himself to make it easier for what his rider does next. What he does next is reaching to catch Lycinea around the waist so he can heft her up toward the dragon's neckridges. He's clearly had some practice getting people (read: women) on the big bronze. He vaults up behind her and works on getting them strapped in as he says quite seriously, "I don't use these straps very often so let's hope they don't break." Maybe that's also why H'vier wraps his arms around the girl right before Reisoth spreads his wings and jumps into the air. Lya doesn't have time to be startled when she's caught up and deposited on the dragon's neck, her hands clutching, inexperienced, at whatever part of the straps she can snag in front of her. She's still mentally reeling from the quick change of position when H'vier arrives behind her and is doing up the buckles. She has to squirm because that puts his hands entirely too close for comfort, only leaning back away from them means she's practically pressed up against him. She's further off-balanced and has no brave-face to offer when he says that about the straps, giving the bronzerider a startled look instead. The words have what is likely the desired effect in that she doesn't fidget away from his arms, though her expression looks not at all comfortable with the whole thing. It gets worse, of course, when she starts to look green. She manages to hold off any action on that greening until she's on the ground again, leaning over almost immediately to lose what little she'd apparently eaten recently. If H'vier's fast, he might be able to get his boots out of the way. If not... well, he's picked up drunk chicks before, right? This can't be so much worse, can it? "Fuck," is the bronzerider's impulsive reaction to the girl's less than sexy reaction to their flight. H'vier tries to get out of the way, but he's not fast enough to save his boots completely. "Oh, darling," he says like he might be concerned. Except it's his boots that he's looking at as he says it and it's not until he's tried to scuff the contents of her stomach off of them that he turns his attention properly on her. "You gonna be okay? Figured you'd be an old hand at riding." Possibly not even just dragons, judging by the innuendo in his voice. "Just because I live in a Weyr among people who are constantly flitting about on dragons, doesn't mean I'm afforded that kind of opportunity. Do you see any dragon following me around?" Lya demands, mood perhaps a little more sour because of her embarrassment and surely the taste in her mouth. The mouth that she's wiping -- oh, oops! Was that his jacket sleeve? Fortunately for H'vier, she'd attractively spit first, so there's probably not anything to worry about. There is a slight flush to her cheeks - which might be because she just threw up - but also might be because she actually sounds a little apologetic when she says, "Sorry about your boots, Havi." But not the sleeve. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, darling. If you had a dragon, you probably wouldn't need me to take you to a gather." But that sparks another thought. "You don't need panties, too, do you?" Even just having thrown up, H'vier gives the young blonde a quick once over. "Don't worry about the boots. I can use your rags to clean them off as soon as we get you something proper to wiggle into." It speaks volumes for Lycinea's innocence that she automatically answers without even thinking of the possible implications, "I don't wear any." Moving on, "It's not like I have clothes to spare. Find your own rags." Her hands settle on her hips and her expression is defiant. She glances bronze briefly and then back to the man. By the time Lya is giving him that defiant look, H'vier is still staring at her for the first little bit of information. Did he even hear anything else? Good question! "So then... you need some panties? Not that I have anything against you not wearing them, of course. I might even prefer it that way." His gaze breaks away from her to glance down at his boots again, trying to twist his foot to rub it off as well as he can as he says, "All right, let's have some fun, hmm?" Lycinea rolls her eyes, probably oblivious to the meaning of his stare. After all, she hadn't meant it that way, so why would he take it that way? "Does anyone need underwear? They seem like almost entirely pointless. Although..." A self-conscious glance takes in her no doubt still growing bust. "I suppose..." Her eyes pull away and her cheeks are hot with a blush when she looks back at the bronzerider, "I'll probably be needing some. Though I'm quite sure my mother would disapprove." The one she doesn't actually have. Because H'vier takes everything that way if there's even a flicker of possibility. He's optimistic like that. "I like underwear. Keeps everything in place." Which, perhaps, isn't as big of an issue with a young woman. "I'm sure your mother would be absolutely horrified." The one she doesn't actually have. "Ready to shop?" It won't help matters that H'vier's agreement about Lya's pretend mother combined with the excitement of all the sights and sounds of the Bitra gather not to mention the prospect of brand-new, just-for-her clothes puts a big grin on her face and a bounce in her step. That she keeps pace with him on the way to the weavers' large booth despite her wide-eyed observation of everything around her says yes in a way words couldn't manage. If there's anything that H'vier learned during his relationship with Tayte, it's how to get nice clothes at a gather. Granted, he's always been somewhat stylish himself, but womens' clothes are another matter entirely. Fortunately he mostly just has to hand Lycinea off to the weavers and let her pick what she likes under a rather generous limit of marks. "You ought to look like a proper date for a bronzerider soon enough," he assures her, grinning as he looks at something thin and lacy. The thin and lacy thing is the recipient of Lya's dirty look. She doesn't direct it at H'vier because... well, he said she owed him dances and to keep him company, which probably counts as a date and he hasn't handed over the marks for her clothes yet, so... There's still something to lose. Lycinea gives a long suffering sigh, of course, because she has to do something before the weaver journeywoman takes her in hand. H'vier can easily catch glimpses of the girl in different dresses, after the audible argument over why pants aren't suitable for a girl at a gather, as the weaver pulls her out to the floor length mirror set up for just this purpose. Most are conservative, but gradually, the weaver coaxes her into things a little more stylish with a neckline that isn't at her neck. Eventually, between the two women, they settle on a strapless affair of a rich emerald green fabric that hugs the bodice (that, yes, nicely accentuates why some underwear is useful) and stops just above the knee. The skirt isn't form-fitting, but rather flares enough to move a little when she does. A good dancing dress. After H'vier's greased the weaver's palm to fix up Lya's hair a little since the girl is apparently as helpless there as she is with her clothes in general and she's assured that her things will be waiting for them on their way back later, they're off to the tanners! With a dress that short, Lya's old worn workboots won't do at all, but her tastes lean toward simple with shoes so finding a soft pair of dancing slippers isn't difficult or costly. Then, yes, she looks like a proper date (for anyone; not just bronzeriders who only think they're special). H'vier is a patient man when it comes to waiting for women and their clothes. Another skill acquired from a certain blonde that is not currently present. And he's certainly not shy about voicing his approval (again, since he's probably assured her she looks great several times by now) once the whole thing is completed with her shoes. "You clean up pretty damned nice, darling." He offers an arm to her with a smile that's perhaps less 'Havi' than it's been since he found her in the caverns. "Should we see about that dance now or do you want to see if there's anything else we can spend my marks on?" He sounds oddly happy to be able to make someone happy with them. The thing about repetition is that it can have a way of becoming normal. So by the time H'vier is telling her she looks great in this dress, Lycinea has ceased to give him disgusted looks. In point of fact, when he compliments her the last time, it summons a blush to liven her cheeks. "Dancing. If I don't break your toes, you can buy me as many more clothes as you want for more." Then it's even and she's not obliged to him, see? "And if you do break my toes?" In the incredibly unlikely event that this horrible thing happens, especially given the boots that he's wearing, H'vier needs to know what he might get out of it, obviously. But she can tell him on the way. He's already leading them toward the other dancers. "We'll have to wait and see how badly it hurts," Lya decides, unwilling to commit herself to a set recompense before the extent of the injuries is known. "I mean, a boy broke my arm and he doesn't even have to be my friend, so--" The going rate on breakage is apparently extremely low. For all that, she does keep her arm wrapped around his, though perhaps it's something about the way that she's leaning close to him whenever the crowd around them presses close. "You don't have to walk on a broken arm," the bronzerider points out as though this ought to be taken into consideration. "And I did offer to take care of your not-friend for you, as I recall." The offer might even still be open. But once they get caught up in the crowd, H'vier pulls Lycinea in close to him, taking one of her hands in his and placing a hand on her hip so he can lead her through the steps of dancing in such a way that neither of them will be embarrassed. Lycinea isn't all that graceful, but she is quick. She manages, even if being led goes against the grain and it does cause a few toe-steppings but with her slender build and foot height difference from the muscular man leading her in the dance with the added protection of his boots, there's no damage done. The dance leave her breathless and clinging to H'vier's arm when it's over, though it's obvious that she's loving every moment of this (every moment when he's not being a perv). First dance at a first gather! And she even looks nice! Who wouldn't be excited? She doesn't catch herself in time to not beam up at H'vier, though the look is schooled as soon as she does. H'vier is smiling, too, but he laughs at the schooling of Lycinea's face. "You know, you are allowed to have a good time without looking so sour about it." That's apparently how he translates her resting face. "But I suppose you've held up your end of the bargain now, haven't you. You want to wander on your own for a bit? See if there's anything you like?" "Don't be stupid," Lya quips back toward the bronzerider, but she flashes another smile after fact, so she's probably kidding. There's a glance about before she's twisting fingers into her skirt and her eyes finding the floor before clearing her throat to answer with an attempt at believability, "No, no. I promised to keep you company." And maybe she'd not like to get lost in so large a crowd, so far from home with no assurance that he won't go off with some easier skirt and leave her stranded in Bitra. "Do you want a drink?" She glances toward the tables that line the dance floor. "I know better than to think that's what you actually want to do, sunshine. But if you're willing to keep suffering through humoring an old man, I'll pretend you enjoy it a little bit." H'vier glances toward the tables where they serve drinks and he's nodding even as he starts heading toward one of them. "I could have sworn you told me that you couldn't dance. But you seemed like a natural to me." He even sounds sincere. Not that that always means anything. But the bronzerider does seem set on showing the girl a good time. "Well, you might drop dead at any moment from the excitement of a passing bosom," nevermind mention of the things causes her to shift uneasily what with hers lifted by the bodice to such effect, "if I leave you unattended." How her presence there will help matters if he were going to bite it from just such excitement... well, no one said teenage logic was perfect. Lya reaches up to touch her hair self-consciously, still following him. "You know your cheesy lines are wasted on me, right?" For all that he sounds sincere. "Why did you bring me anyway? And why are you buying me things if you don't want to get me in bed?" She asks these as she settles across from him, carefully keeping her slippered feet to herself under the table. "We've already covered why I brought you." To keep him company. Isn't that good enough? "But don't misunderstand, darling. I'd take you to bed in a heartbeat if you were willing to join me." H'vier is an honest man, you see. A gentleman, even! "I'm buying you things because every girl deserves to have pretty things in her life. And I have more than enough money to help make that happen." For her, anyway. Lya gives him the look. The does-it-look-like-I-fell-off-the-transport-wagon-yesterday look. "You could've taken a girl-- woman, whatever-- that you stood even half a chance of getting into bed at the end of the night, but you knew going in," he better have known! "that that wasn't going to happen with me. Because I'm sixteen." She reminds him with a narrow-eyed look. "So, here I am keeping you company, in a pretty dress, which I do like very much, thank you, and you're not even going to tell me why you really brought me instead of some girl willing to put out for a dress, some shoes and a hairdo?" She swings her feet a little under the table now, shifting a little on the bench. "You don't have to tell me, but it's going to be a long night of buying me things if you don't want to talk about yourself." Beat, "I thought bronzeriders liked that kind of thing. Talking about themselves." She rolls her eyes preemptively, in case he should pick up the thread and decide to do so now. "I could have taken that woman to bed without bringing her here at all," says H'vier like he's very certain this is the case. "Perhaps I just like the challenge of trying to get one who thinks she's certain she doesn't want to to change her mind." That's got to be comforting! "Or perhaps I just like wasting my marks." They probably both seem equally valid. Once H'vier has a drink, though, he offers, "The woman I'd been with for some time likes to dress up and go to gathers and dance. You remind me of her a little. But we're not together anymore and she won't take my money to help take care of herself and our daughter." So he has some to spare. "Perhaps you do," Lya will allow. "But you picked the wrong girl for that. Especially if I'm creepily helping you re-live something you botched up by your perversions." That's the obvious reason someone wouldn't be with H'vier, right? Even if it's hard to believe someone would be with him to begin with. "But you can buy me what you like if that'll make you feel better. I don't have any marks or nice clothes." Though a hand goes to touch the bodice of the dress just between the swell of her breasts. Except this, of course. "I'll even keep you company when you want. Outside of beds." She probably also means inclusive of anywhere that can substitute itself for a bed, etc., but it likely doesn't occur to say so. "You have definitely never been with a man before," says H'vier like this is what they were talking about to begin with. He doesn't say it like an insult, though. It's more like an interesting curiosity for him. "When I want? You mean you're interested in a longer term arrangement?" That probably shouldn't make him grin like that, like he expected it, but it does, and maybe he did. Lya only rolls her eyes to the first. "Obviously, I've slept with hundreds of boys. Girls too." Thankfully she stops there. "But none old enough to be my grandfather," given the age he claimed. "But that's not important." What is important is this impromptu business proposition. "It's not like I wouldn't be working for the nice things," obviously being his companion would be a lot of work on her part. "But yeah, if you want." She shrugs like it doesn't matter. "Shells, I'm not that old. I'm old enough to be your father, I'll give you that. But you'd hardly be the first." Fortunately that's just informative, not suggestive. "If I want? What if I decide to find someone more... willing to compensate me for my generosity?" Okay, that's more suggestive. H'vier is shifting out of his seat once he finishes his drink, though. Time to do more shopping, perhaps! Lya gives another roll of her shoulders. "Then you do." Because She Is Not Putting Out. "But I suspect you won't. Because you wouldn't've brought me in the first place if I didn't amuse you," she doesn't say if he didn't like her, "And if you could've found someone else that reminded you of her, whoever she is, to buy clothes for and fuck who doesn't mind just being a replacement for what you don't have anymore, I think you'd probably be doing her now instead of taking me to buy a new set of work clothes." She slips out of the booth and reaches for his hand, giving a little tug in the direction of the weaver stalls, daring a half-smile, not completely as confident as her voice and words proclaim her to be. The girl might not sound so confident if she recognized the look that lingers on H'vier's face for a few moments. Or if he were looking at her long enough for her to see it. It's one that makes Tayte nervous these days. But he's had a decent grip on his anger of late and so it passes quickly enough. The bronzerider takes her hand, flashes a smile, and tells her to lead the way. |
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