Logs:A Heartless Skeevy Bronzerider and a Traumatized Teenage Girl
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| RL Date: 7 April, 2015 |
| Who: H'vier, Lycinea, Oiana |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Yesterday, Lycinea was rescued from the cave-in. Today, there are burn victims incoming to the infirmary. First, H'vier is a good friend, and then he really, really isn't. |
| When: Day 20, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Skeeve quotient: really high. Adult themes, angst. Back-dated. |
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| It's the girl in his arms that brings H'vier to the infirmary. She's burned and crying, but she'll no doubt be fine in the care of the healers. The bronzerider has little interest in lingering once she's dropped off, though, and he continues on his way through the dragon infirmary where only one of his wingriders has ended up with minor, but painful injuries. It's with the bluerider he stays, standing at the end of his cot rather than sitting anywhere that might be considered reassuring, until he's sure the man has been made properly comfortable. She's not a dragonrider. And yet, she's just climbing out of one of the pools maintained for the dragons who need it. Lya is naked. It's like she sees nothing as she climbs out and finds the robe and plain gown given her by the healers. It's not until another crying person enters that she abruptly flinches as if struck, and drops to her knees, cowering. Crying is what draws H'vier's gaze away from his rider, but it's the motion near the pool that pulls his eyes to Lycinea. It takes a moment for him to realize that it is her, but once he does, he's turning, leaving the bluerider without a word to approach the cowering blonde. "Lya?" he prompts with a hint of concern. "Are you okay? Were you hurt?" She looks up at him with wide-eyes. Eyes that still have dark circles under them. Can he tell she's lost weight? Lya stares up at him, and then with a fragile attempt at calm, she manages to stand. "No. I was entombed." She says it hollowly, lacking in appropriate emotional anything despite the very particular word she chooses. They were only rescued yesterday. Can it really have been so short a time. A shriek goes up from the infirmary beyond, and abruptly Lya's fingers are landing on H'vier's forearm and tightening, even as she flinches. "I can't stay here. Not with... All... Help," this much she manages, looking at him, searching his face for something. Can she trust him? He didn't visit, after all. H'vier's face is relatively neutral, all told. It's probably on purpose to avoid showing any particular emotion he happens to be feeling about running into Lya right now. Like this. After everything that's happened recently and his own part in not at all being there for her. "I'm sorry," is all he can think to say in regards to the first. "Where would you like to go?" The question is genuine even if his face only gains an expectant quality. "Away, somewhere safe. Your weyr?" Is his weyr safe? Maybe. Better than staying here. Lya probably doesn't want to fly any more than she has to just now. Her hair is still dripping and that would be no good between, not to mention that she looks like she needs to keep down everything she eats. She tugs at his arm urgently. Go. She wants to go. The bronzerider makes a sound. It's not entirely agreeable, but it's not really disagreeable, either. He's torn on the idea of taking Lya back to his weyr, torn about taking responsibility for her after everything that's happened recently. But H'vier moves when she urges, leading her out into the bowl. It's not Reisoth who meets them but one of his wingriders to take them up to his weyr. Lya clings to him as they walk, sort of hugging his arm to her body, which is probably awkward for a lot of reasons. She leans back into him as the dragon flies. She makes a gagging noise that's more or less lost to the wind but apparently she has nothing to puke up so, lucky everyone~ Once they're on his ledge, she's darting inside ahead of him and going to his wardrobe. She must've looked through it before because she seems to find one of his larger sweaters without much trouble and she's disrobing (literally) then de-gowning to toss it on over her head before moving to find his hairbrush (which she also knows where it lives, for different reasons. H'vier follows after a few moments, perhaps speaking to their ride or simply giving them both a bit of privacy before he follows her inside. He looks at her when he comes in, but he doesn't seem to mind her change into his clothes. In fact, it's probably fortunate that she's unlikely to see the way he looks at her before he's turning his attention on his wardrobe to start changing out of his comparatively dirty, sweaty, smoky clothes into at least a new pair of pants. Lycinea crawls into his bed without hesitation, drawing the blankets up around her. "After you get your drink, will you please come here?" She asks nicely. So nicely. If a little imploringly. At least she assumes he's going to have a drink. Once he has the pants, H'vier is moving toward the wash basin. But her comments makes him pause to glance back at her in his bed. He looks for maybe a little too long before asking, "Do you want some tea?" But he's going to put water on for it anyway before he washes the worst of the grime from his hands and arms and face. She watches him put the water on, watches him wash his face. Lya barely moves in the bed, only to burrow herself a little deeper into covers. If he has extra blankets, she probably wants them. "Okay." Tea. "I can't eat very much. I think the tea should be okay. They give me tea in the infirmary." There's something strange(r than usual) about the way she relates these facts, and then she's leaning back on the pillows, fingers tugging nervously at the blanket across her knees. Even after he's cleaner, H'vier doesn't bother putting a shirt on, though he might oblige if Lya asks him to. While he waits for the water to boil, he moves closer to the bed and sits down on the edge toward the end. "Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather have the place to yourself?" Never mind that she just asked him to come over here a few minutes ago. "No," is forceful, the blankets clutched even dropped so they fall around her shoulders. Her long blond hair is drying, starting to curl at the ends. Lya stare at him, "I don't want to be alone," is almost desperate. "Please don't leave me alone definitely is. "Okay," H'vier says calmly, pacifyingly. "I'll stay." For now. "Do you need anything else?" At least anything else he might not have to leave to get for her. He glances toward the hearth where the kettle hangs rather than staring at her. She shakes her head, solemn, as she says, "Just you." He might not be looking at her, but she's looking at him with wide eyes, wide, intense eyes. He does look at her for a moment, meeting her wide, intense eyes with his own more carefully neutral ones. When the kettles starts to whistle, though, H'vier rises and makes his way over there. He comes back once the tea has steeped and he has two mugs for them. "Careful, it's hot." It seems like the right thing to say. Lycinea has a nod for the instruction; perhaps it was needed after all. She shifts so she can use the blanket to hug the cup between her hands, insulating them from the heat. Then, she points to the wher in the room, "You didn't come to see me." It's quiet, more fact than accusation. H'vier finally settles down properly on his bed, back against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of him. He considers her comment in silence, studying her face. And then he agrees, simply, "No." It's true, he did not. But instead of apologizing, he waits for what he must assume are the inevitable questions. There's only one, now. "Why?" Lya asks it simply, and then blows gently on her tea. "I knew Irianke would take care of you. Far better than I could." H'vier's dark eyes stay focused, though not with any particular intensity, on the blonde. She just looks at him and then closes her eyes. Once her efforts at cooling her tea yield results, she drinks. It's possible Lya isn't going to speak again. H'vier sips quietly at his tea, letting the silence hang for some long moments before he gives. "Are you upset?" he asks without qualifying it with a certain reason. "No," simple, "I'm afraid." It's not exactly the answer he'd expected. "Of what, Lya?" Now Lya looks at him. "You were going to forget me. I was there forever. For two weeks. Forever. You were going to forget me." She sounds... Not accusing, but sad and scared. "Lya," says H'vier in that 'don't be ridiculous' sort of tone. It's not condescending, though. There's some sort of emotion in it. "I'll never forget you. Ever. I can promise you that." "I was gone two weeks." Lya murmurs. "And you didn't find me after, either." Not intentionally. "Are you sure you haven't already forgotten and are only now remembering because I'm here?" Does the question make sense? The girl seems to think so, and she hasn't even drunk enough tea to start looking for the horny ceiling caprine yet. She sips more now as she waits for an answer. "I'm sure." It doesn't take much thought for him to say as much. H'vier is sure he hasn't forgotten about her at any point. "What purpose would my visiting have served?" he asks in return. "It would have made me less scared." Lya ventures as she considers the tea. "You could have told me I wasn't going to die. Maybe I would've believed you. I wanted to believe her." There's an obvious ashamed quality to her voice and in the light traces of blush that touch her cheeks as she bends her head slightly to sip again. "Why would you believe me over her? I'm a liar, Lya." They've established this at some point, haven't they? H'vier takes a drink, not a sip, of his tea. "I would have missed you. If you'd died." "Because you're my friend," Lya answers without needing to think about that. "Or you're supposed to be." She sips her tea. "Would you have missed me only because I haven't asked you to screw me yet?" It's curiosity again, not accusation, and she looks at him again, at his face. H'vier's brows furrow at that question and he looks at Lya with something like disapproval. "Of course not. I have no intention of ever screwing you." Which makes her kind of awkward company right now, when his blood's running much hotter than it seems to be. "We're just friends." "But you wanted me to kiss you." Lya observes before finishing her tea and leaning to sit it on the nightstand. "And I want to screw you. But neither are very relevant, are they?" H'vier might do stupid things sometimes, but he's not a stupid man. Not under everything that might suggest as much at times. "Do you want more?" is asked of the tea. Lya shakes her head to the offer of tea. "Your tea makes my head feel funny." She's noticed, if not sorted out why that is. She twists a strip of yellow fabric that's knotted around one finger like a ring. "You confuse me." She says after a moment. "You're my friend but you don't come to see me when I'm dying. You want me but you won't ever screw me." It's just confusing, isn't it? She looks to H'vier a little helplessly. Can he make it make sense? "You weren't dying," says H'vier with complete, if increasingly subdued, confidence. His tea makes his head feel funny, too. But that's exactly why he's drinking it. "You don't want me," he points out. "I would have thought accepting that would be the truest expression of friendship I could offer." Not something for her to be confused by. "I was in a cave-in," Lya answers his confidence with fact. "No one knew if the rocks were going to shift and kill us all. We were there two sevens. For all you knew, I was dying. I felt like I was dying," and then with resolve, "I was dying. Maybe I still am." Nevermind that her only wounds are scabbed over scrapes that are nearly healed. "You are dying." H'vier will allow that. "You're dying just as much as I am. Death is the only thing you can ultimately count on. But a life allowed to be crippled by death is hardly a life well lived." Leave it to H'vier to be philosophical when he's high. With a traumatized teenager. "I don't want to be forgotten." Lya tells him, as if she hadn't heard him waxing philosophic. Then she shifts onto her side, onto her knees and she leans toward him - hopefully he has reflex enough to move the tea. She's going to kiss him, kiss him fragiley, then sit back on her feet. "Do you remember me now?" Her movement toward him is unexpected, but H'vier only sits there and lets the kiss happen. He doesn't return it, as such, but the fact that she has his fullest attention is obvious in more than just the way he's looking at her. "Vividly," he answers with restrained heat. Lycinea sighs. It's frustration, not relief. Then she does a controlled crumple down onto the bed so that her cheek is against his thigh and her body curled along his leg. "You never really kiss me, do you." Definitely not then. "I don't know that anyone will ever kiss me." She sighs again, "I don't know that I care." "I kissed you the last time you kissed me," H'vier points out. "And I'd like nothing more than to kiss you properly now. But that's not all I want, Lya. So unless you've changed your mind about me touching myself..." He lets that thought trail off all nice and about as chaste as he's likely to get. He even avoids trying to adjust himself with her cheek against his thigh. Lya blows out a breath that isn't a sigh, still frustrated. "I don't care." She tells him offhandedly, then abruptly sitting up she adds, "Just don't..." How to say it. "I'm just going to... be here." She tries and fails, but then she's getting up and moving to claim his hair brush from where she knows he keeps it and starts running it through her now mostly dry locks. "Not more than kissing, okay?" She has more success with words, not that she sounds very enthusiastic (more annoyed) about the kissing. Her frustration and annoyance don't seem to put much of a damper on H'vier's current state, though he might wish it did. She might wish it did. "When you say not more than kissing, do you mean you might kiss me while I...?" He seems doubtful, but asking is definitely worth the risk of rejection. "Ugh," probably sounds like rejection, and really, shouldn't it be? But it's followed by an agitated and uncertain, "I don't know. I guess. Does it matter?" Lya frowns at him. "This is messed up." Some part of her brain has registered that much. H'vier finishes the rest of his tea before setting the mug aside. His hands moves to his pants and he's pushing them down just past his hips. It leaves him shamelessly bare from the thighs up as he shifts down the bed onto his back. "You don't have to stay," he tell hers. She could go sit on the couch or something. "But the touch would be nice." She looks at him, even the bare parts of him with a measure of that same agitation. Lya shifts her weight from one foot to another and then back. She looks anywhere else but at him and then back to him. "You're covered in dust," she notes in a way that seems to be meant to carry significance. Even though his gaze had shifted away from her, mostly to close his eyes, and his thumb and forefingers hold himself lightly, those words make him glance over at Lya again with a furrow in his brow. "Yeah?" And? "I washed the worst of it off." The agitation grows in that he doesn't seem to understand why it's important. Lya abruptly drops his brush, the handle hitting the floor with a clatter as she flees out, out past the empty wallow, out to the empty ledge and stops just a hair short of the very edge of the ledge itself, staring at the expanse of dark, still smoky bowl. A frustrated sound follows her out to the ledge. H'vier doesn't want to get up. He wants to finish what he started. Or, better yet, find someone willing to be more hands on. "Lya," he says after a few moments of silence that follow his frustration. "If you want to stay here, come back inside." It's not frustrated anymore, just resigned. He will be the one compromising to cater to her. There's no immediate response. When one does come some handful of moments later, Lya is returning with the same flurry of feet as when she left. Straight into the bed and with every intent to throw her arms around his neck and hold herself to him, ignoring (perhaps on purpose, or simply because they don't even register at this point) any bits of himself that are out that aren't normally so. H'vier has started to put himself away, at least. He's not finished, but compromises. Lya's arms around his neck is welcome, but confusing. He moves an arm to wrap around her, his head tilting toward hers to press his lips affectionately against her hair. This is less horny Havi, though he is still very much here, and more protective Havi. "It's okay, dearheart. Everything will be okay." Perhaps H'vier has, for once in his life, done just the right thing. Lya sags against him, trusting him with her now even slighter weight. Her words come quietly, in broken sort of murmurs, but at least she's not crying now, "Everything was covered in dust," she tells him, tone desperate, pleading for him to understand. "The food, the drink, the people, the dress." She hugs tighter. "Can we go somewhere? Somewhere to get clean? I feel so dirty." Nevermind that she was just getting out of the bath when H'vier found her. "Aye," says H'vier after a few moments to consider the possibilities, holding Lya firmly against him. "I'm not supposed to leave the Weyr, but I think a beach might do us both some good. What do you think? Clean and warm and open." He probably has ulterior motives, too, but he doesn't voice them. "I don't think anyone would notice tonight," Lya tells him dully. Everyone's thoughts? Elsewhere. "Do you have something I can change into after?" She probably means a large shirt or something equally sexy. The beach is apparently fine with her. "As long as the water is warm. Hot springs..." she starts and then shrugs. Maybe hot springs are better? "Somewhere with sky." Not rock above. "Beach," H'vier decides, starting to let go of Lya so he can rise and work at packing up a few things, like a blanket and clean clothes, booze and water. How he plans to get where they're going is made apparent when a green and her pretty, blonde Iceberg rider meet them on Reisoth's ledge. She smiles sympathetically and looks like she might say something to Lya when she sees her, but a sound from H'vier stops her. Instead she nods when the bronzerider asks about food or something from the kitchen, patting a bag by her thigh. "Okay, let's go," he says once they're all mounted and it's a short jump between before they're spiraling down to a secluded, entirely smoke- and ash-free beach. Once they're on the ground, H'vier helps Lya down and unloads the few things they have. And their ride does not leave. Lya does need the help down, and once down and released from H'vier's grip, her knees buckle and she goes down onto the sand. It doesn't much seem to bother her though, because she reaches her fingers into the sand and squeezes fist-fulls of the stuff thoughtfully, as though testing this place he's brought her. Is sand too much like dust? No, it seems not. Not with open sky and ocean there. She doesn't, notably, retch. H'vier and the greenrider find somewhere to put the impulsively packed bags, the bronzerider keeping an eye on Lya until he asks her, "Will you be okay by yourself for a little while?" By herself with the dragon, anyway. H'vier and his friend have some business to attend, but he seems genuinely concerned about the younger blonde as well. "What?" is sharp. Lya jerks her chin toward him to stare at him. At her. At them. The flare of a blush in her cheeks is indication enough that only now she realized their plan. "No! No, you ass!" She's up and advancing on H'vier with every intention to swat at him, "I already sharding well told you I don't want to be alone. And I sure as shell don't want to listen to," or watch, "you fuck her." She glares. It's an echo of the girl that was before the cave in. "Take me home. Take me home right now." Lya's swatting makes him lift an arm defensively, but H'vier certainly doesn't seem threatened by her. "No. We aren't going home. We're going to let ourselves enjoy the fact that we're fucking alive for awhile. And for me that means putting my dick between those pretty legs." And since Lya can't actually go anywhere without them, H'vier gestures for the greenrider, who has taken this all quite gracefully, to head for the jungle that borders the beach. If that's what it means for H'vier, then he really should've thought twice before bringing a traumatized teenager along with him on a booty call when said teenager had already begged him not to leave her alone. She whirls away from H'vier but can make it no more than two paces before she falls into the sand sobbing and curling pathetically into a fetal ball. If one of the riders get close, they might be able to hear Lya telling herself between sobs, "Wake up, wake up. Wake up." This is a nightmare. It's nightmare into nightmare. Is it never done? A nightmare under open sky and yet trapped where she doesn't want to be. Trapped and soon to be alone, in the dark. H'vier doesn't go. He really wants to, so very badly, but instead of following the greenrider into the jungle, the bronzerider moves to crouch beside the teenager, reaching out to rub his hand comfortingly along her back. "She's getting some wood to build a fire," he tells Lya. "Do you want to swim before it gets darker?" "I want to go home," Lya manages after some moments, sounding small and defeated. "I want Irianke." She cares. He sighs, but pushes himself back up to standing. "Fine. Pick yourself up. Lynriath will take you back to the Weyr as soon as Oiana returns." H'vier doesn't just stand there, or even turn away to leave her there, though, he moves to hold out a hand to offer her help up to her feet. The reassurance that they will go is enough that in some moments, Lya is able to pull herself together enough to take his hand and half-pull, half-be-pulled up onto her feet. She should just wrap her arms around herself and wait, but instead it's H'vier who she seeks to embrace, to hold herself to, for whatever comfort he can provide, even if he was the one that brought on this bout of panic. Her heartbeat is still racing, her breath still coming too quickly, but she manages, "I wanted to be with you. Only with you." It's sad, almost resigned at this point. In turn, H'vier wraps an arm protectively around the girl and sighs. He's not good at putting other people before himself, not sure if she's noticed! "Do you want me to send her back instead?" he asks, just in case Lya still wants to be with him for some reason. "Yes," and, "No. You've been-- why couldn't you just have come to visit me?" Lya demands looking up at him through her wet lashes, sand sticking to her wet cheeks. "Then we wouldn't be here. Then-- I thought we were friends." If he had worried about accusation earlier, it's here now, if late to the party. "We are friends, Lya. I wouldn't have brought you here if we weren't. I wouldn't be here if we weren't." H'vier would be in the jungle with the cute, willing blonde. "I don't know why I didn't visit you. But I didn't. And there's nothing I can do about that now." "We're such good friends that you brought your booty call along for the ride and somehow thought I'd be okay with that?" Lya glares at him, the change of temper sudden, but it's better than tears isn't it? "I can't believe I was even thinking of giving you want you wanted. You are such a pig!" Then she'll aim to swat him again. "Take me home," is demanded again. She isn't the only one with a sudden change in temper. When Lya swats at him, H'vier reaches out in a half-hearted attempt to catch one of her wrists to make her pay attention. "Now, listen! I brought her because she does want to give me what I want and that's a damned sight better than the idea of-- you." He probably doesn't mean that the way it comes out. But he's not thinking about that, he turns away to grab their bags and yell for Oiana to hurry her skinny ass up. Lya almost slaps him, her hand moves, but instead she just whirls the opposite direction and stalks to the surf and thumps down in the wet sand not too far from the dragon, to glower at the light on the water until it's time to go home. Fortunately it doesn't take very long for the greenrider to return, though she seems kind of embarrassed and mostly avoids interacting with Lya too much. H'vier is not embarrassed and he'll interact with Lya enough to get her on the dragon and take them back to the Weyr. The green lands in the bowl and H'vier starts to dismount to help the girl down. "Don't bother," Lya tells the bronzerider in a way that suggests an unspoken swear before she's moving to dismount (clumsily) on her own and stalk off without so much as a thank you to H'vier's booty call. The nerve. |
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