Logs:A Report
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| RL Date: 23 July, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Once Vhaeryth is appropriately interrogated by Cadejoth, N'rov visits Brieli to tell her what he found at the trader camp. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 4, Turn 29 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: A light rainfall patters on and off throughout the day, making everything slick and gray and muddy. |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
| Look, Vhaeryth! « He says you have a 'lonely and empty barracks.' Is it very empty? » Would they fit? Is it different in the least from theirs? (Does Vhaeryth even remember theirs?) It must be a surprise sense of decorum, or just that Vhaeryth just hasn't gotten to it yet, that lack of Now?. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Iesaryth is duly surprised with a spray of seafoam Vhaeryth's way! She is not inside said barracks, because they do not seem so empty to her - rather kind of small, especially with Hraedhyth stomping around and bellowing. No, Iesaryth has taken an idea that she will generously grant was the bronze's; she has simply winged across the bowl and perched on a ground ledge no longer in use. It's her for now. « She is there. It is fairly empty. I don't think you would fit there, but there's room enough here. » She's watching the steady rain in the bowl; better than snow? (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) It can't be such a little splash of seafoam that dims Vhaeryth's excitement, not even the vision of stomp-and-bellow, but rather... small? Too small? Not fitting? Deplorable. Even so (and perhaps it helps that Iesaryth's reminded him whose idea it was), he seems amenable to this ledge-visiting, especially since, « I would like to see what you found. » And drag his rider along for the ride? No, not so much dragging for this dragon. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Appropriately apologetic for allowing that little bit of reality to dampen his enthusiasm, Iesaryth's tide rushes out, warm in welcome; she'd like to show Vhaeryth the ledge, for all that her rider cannot be convinced to move along with her, waiting for some sort of 'permission'. Whatever. « It is a nice ledge. It will be better when my things are with me. » Brieli would be nice too; speaking of whom: « She wants to know - same place as last time? » She can see the entrance to the galleries from where she is, shadowy. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Permission. For a ledge. There's a curl of metal that shows exactly what Vhaeryth thinks of that... but then it also agreeably pops off and starts floating on the tide like a miniature boat. « Much better, with you and yours. And... » fine. « I will bring Him. Although perhaps He should also see the barracks, » for perhaps Vhaeryth will fit after all! Never mind that there might be something secret to relay, that perhaps (just perhaps) not even stomping Hraedhyth should see. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) It's something Iesaryth doesn't entirely understand either - surely Ysavaeth has better things to worry about than where Iesaryth and her rider spend their days and nights, but her rider seems to think that there's a matter of respect for Ysavaeth's and... She makes some sort of sound that it like talking but more boring, and that's about all she thinks of the whole argument. And now; « She says there are rules about who goes into the barracks. » She's not sure when rules started mattering, but... Instead, she'll float the little metallic boat out to sea and adventure! (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) There's a sense of leaning, as though Vhaeryth might be predictably less concerned about rules... but as she continues, at last he heaves a so-weary sigh. « We come. » It's at least a little adventure, at least! And this way, her rider won't be troubled. (And perhaps his N'rov may be convinced to at least peek on his way out.) (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) There's a fussy flick of dark wings as Vhaeryth enters the gray... and then she may be able to see through him, if she's looking, the gradual awareness of another bronze's attention, of a gilt mesh of High Reaches with Iesaryth herself trapped inside. Cadejoth's attention, and Vhaeryth's surprise. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) If Iesaryth minds any mental leaning, there's nothing in her ocean skies that indicate that as they come - but at least they were warned about the rain, given it's likely still rather cold and miserable - and that's why the gold is content sticking to her new (if annexed) ledge. The rain and mud - mostly the mud - have kept many of the caverns workers who'll usually make the trek for the warmth of the sands sticking to the indoors, so there's only scattered pairs and individuals across the vast expanse of seats. Instead of lurking in the shadows, Brieli lingers near the entrance, her fashion sense finally kicked out of hibernation; despite mud and rain she's wearing tall boots and a short pleated skirt, her new jacket thrown on, sleeves pushed up. Despite best efforts to seem as calm and removed as usual, there's something that has her chewing at her thumbnail as she waits, brushing raindrops from her bangs. « What? » Iesaryth does NOT like that, does not like that image; she shifts it quickly so the sunburst gold dissolves into water, flowing through the mesh. Cadejoth knows this. « I am no one's. Does he bother you? » There's something more than her annoyance there; her rider's anger. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Quick admiration (sunlight on metal, if not sunlight off water) for Iesaryth and her escape: « Not yet, we are not sure what he wants. » Yet. And if Vhaeryth might have been the least bit provoking, that's only reflected by a hint of airiness to his as yet untarnished humor... until. Until there's an echo of not just steel but bone against bone. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Always all too pleased by her cleverness, Iesaryth is brightened a touch by Vhaeryth's admiration; less likely to go off on some sort of tear, especially if the bronze is still entertained. But when there is that echo, ocean swells begin to rise as the skies darken. « I will speak to him. This is not helping. » She doesn't explain with what, but there's the sense of a project, something important. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) That poor little metal-peeling, bobbing on the strengthening waves: must Vhaeryth rescue it? Insted, he pacifies if he can: « He only wishes to know why we are here, » so far. « If there is no argument, we should slip through. » Should. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) To Cadejoth, Iesaryth's sea skies are grey, clouds rolling in above; ocean's waves are high, crashing on the beach. Despite this, her tenor is still calm, pleasant even. Respectful. « Cadejoth. Do you have issue with my visitor? » Brieli's as well, truth be told, but it is equal. There's a low, dull clap of bone-upon-bone in Cadejoth's reply, and the hint of a fine metallic mesh, one that includes Iesaryth and all his Weyr: his. « He did not announce himself, » he says, and for once, there's no hint of his usual playfulness. « His home and ours are not on such good terms that this might be excused. » (Cadejoth to Iesaryth) « Why now? Why this time? » Iesaryth's objections might sound a lot like Brieli's, if Vhaeryth's rider is paying attention; there's fuel enough for this particular fire without either bronze adding to it. « This is stupid. » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) There's a metallic cloud of confusion about Vhaeryth now, tiny metal shards whose lowermost may be caught by passing waves when they plunge by. « It is because... I did not say hello? » But Cadejoth is not the watchdragon, surely, not so old and infirm? « I am not Bijedth, » the closest thing to a sire he's ever known. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) To Cadejoth, Iesaryth might have shown Cadejoth this trick before; the Iesaryth in his mesh melts into saltwater and flows through it. She is water, she is no one's. As for his Weyr, she cannot argue that. « Many forget. You cannot forgive? » A pause. « Elaruth has given me leave to visit her home. Would you be less generous? » She is still stormy, but calm despite all that; there is only the roar of the waves before, « We cannot take every mistake as a slight. This will not help us with the others. » To Iesaryth, Cadejoth's reply is gentle, and despite her water, and her refusal to be enmeshed, she is still part of his. His Weyr; his Queens. « I did not say I will not give him leave, » chides the bronze. The silence lengthens the duration between Vhaeryth's wingbeats; he's no longer descending now, his rider settled forcibly into his straps, head bowed, waiting. Likewise unsure - but less confused than irritated - Iesaryth might try to clear away that cloud with higher waves, but there's only so many of the little metal bits that she can get. « I think he is making a point. He says we are his. I am not his. » Stormy, she is distracted for a moment, then; « No. You are not. He is defensive. It is not helpful. » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Still uncertain, still unsettled, still disliking something about all of this, Iesaryth must note, « It is difficult to tell, Cadejoth. I will trust you to be fair. » She seems able to tell that she's not going to make much difference one way or the other at this point, so reluctantly, the tide rolls out until the ocean's rhythm is a whisper in the distance. (Iesaryth to Cadejoth) In replying, Cadejoth can only confirm what Iesaryth has said: he will be fair. He is not unreasonable. But this Weyr is his, and he must protect it. She would not visit unannounced, he hopes! (Cadejoth to Iesaryth) « I am not his, » either? Vhaeryth agrees. He's silent for a little while, though if she's looking she'll see that he's still not continuing his descent despite that he adds, « He has spoken more. It is... a little better. » Though there's uncertainty about him, as well as the outlook. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) « He implies he will give you leave. I told him I had leave from Elaruth to visit your home in hope it would make him more reasonable. » Iesaryth seems to think that was useless; or perhaps it's just that she's angry about all of this, dark waves rough and heavy. Brooding, watching from her ledge far below and peering up through the rain, « She wants to go find the Weyrleader. » And do something inadvisable, likely. « I am stopping her. » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) « Then he should give us leave soon, » comes Vhaeryth's immediate reply. Before she rampages. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) In the last few minutes, Brieli has shifted from mildly anxious to entirely pissed off - though both of these moods still involve that nasty thumbnail-biting habit. She's having problems standing still, starting for the bowl several times and stopping, dark eyes gone hard and angry, jaw set. Anywhere else, she'd likely look like a crazy person. Eventually, she settles for moving close enough to the bowl that she can see the rain come down, squint up at the sky. Make experimental fists, punch the walls lightly. At a loss and irritable for it, Iesaryth is quiet for a time, clearly trying to come up with something - quick thoughts moving, discarded. Then, barely wanting to offer the option, as that means defeat, « If we have to, we will go somewhere, out of the Weyr. There are places we can fly to. » (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) It's not obvious gentleness, Vhaeryth's, but more of a subtle buoyancy: « If we have to, » he agrees. They will work it out. But best of all, surely, when she is where she wishes to be. (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) Indeed, Iesaryth is feeling a bit trapped at the moment; as if walls could close in on the ocean, force it to flow. « Yes. » Her agreement is quiet and grateful - appreciative for him, for his, for waiting. Apology for this. It bothers her, something separate from her rider's anger. It's not right. (Iesaryth to Vhaeryth) Finally! Released, he sweeps downward, and surely she can feel those joyous wingbeats (even if they are headed to ground, even if his rider won't be astride him where he belongs). « We come, Iesaryth. » And then he'll visit too: even if it's not her barracks, even if it's not her proper ledge, it's the one she's chosen and maybe that's best of all. Only later, after his rider's making his way through the mud, comes the wordless inquiry: wrong? (Vhaeryth to Iesaryth) To Vhaeryth, Iesaryth is certainly pleased - pleased enough to let a beam of sunlight or two through all those dark clouds to glint off the water. And perhaps it will be her ledge after all, and then Vhaeryth will know where to find it. She's easy enough to spot when she sticks her head out into the rain, looking for the freed bronze. As for the question, « Not-right. Not fair. It bothers me. » But she'll let it float away on the waves in favor of showing off her annexed lands. Having paused to watch Vhaeryth spiral up to some searchlight he can't himself see, N'rov resumes trudging cautiously through the mud: part, no doubt, so he doesn't fall on his face and leave an even better impression, part because... what is he walking toward, after all? He still has his helmet on against the rain, but there's no ducking, no running. He'll get there. Though she no longer looks as angry as she might have a few minutes ago - say, before there was a Fortian bronzerider out in the bowl trudging through the mud - Brieli still has the high color and stormy expression of someone who might like to tell someone off or do some violence, whichever comes to them first. At least it distracted her from the matter at hand. She's still hanging around the entrance to the galleries, peering out into the rain now and again; this last time, she catches sight of N'rov, but doesn't call out in case he slips or something - she'll just stand in the doorway and wait, pushing the sleeves of her jacket down. Vhaeryth's so much quicker about landing, greeting Iesaryth, and starting to look about him (just what is it like, anyway, this place she's found?). His rider, slower, thoughtful, may not notice Brieli until after she does, but then he breaks into a smile. He saves words, though, for when he's actually in the entrance, out of the rain and more importantly out of outside sight, and can reach for her. "What a day, right?" Iesaryth will give Vhaeryth lots of room, since she still can and since he's wet. She has found herself a nice, wide ledge that overlooks the bowl, presumably near the other queens' ledges. The main thing that she seems to be impressed with is both the size and the fact that no one else comes around it; no bellowing and stomping. Inside, the only people who are really going to see them are passing through, and there aren't a lot of those. Stepping in close as he reaches for her, Brieli doesn't seem to mind that N'rov is likely soaked and possibly carrying bad news; she slides arms around his neck and nods with a sigh. "So far. Don't think it's over." A warning, but she'll soften it with a kiss. Vhaeryth looks at Iesaryth with big bright eyes that whirl what should be a suspicious shade of green, and gives his wingtips a trial flick... but no, he doesn't flap like a canine to get her all wet that way. This time. It would get her ledge all wet, after all. And she's had a hard afternoon, so he just bumps his muzzle against her shoulder and then sticks his head out to look up and down, to see what the view would be from within and not just without. No bellowing, no stomping, and big: all positive signs. His own ledge, he shares, is not nearly as large, though it has other things to recommend it. Now, the weyr! He'll poke his head in there too, and trust to dragon vision. As for N'rov, he tightens the arm around Brieli's waist before kissing her back, and then spreads his fingers exploringly for all that his hand doesn't move. "Skirt. Nice." Simple words. "Hit anything yet? Do you want to?" Iesaryth's wings might rustle as Vhaeryth's eyes take on that shade of green, ready to cover herself from the water she's been so careful to hide from for the day. She has a pleased rumble for being spared, even if it's just this time, and returns the affection with a nudge of her head against his. She is happy with the large ledge, though she is sure that higher ledges have better views; inside, the weyr looks large as well, though not massive, still furnished for the most part. He could likely wander in if he wanted. Brieli isn't all that inclined to stop the kissing once they've started, but draws back easily enough, though still flushed. "Mm. I found I could wear decent clothes again. And I do want to, but... what would that solve? Should I? Do I have reason to?" Fingers find their way into N'rov's curls, as usual, as she grins slowly. "Would you believe me if I said it was for you, or would you think it an excuse?" Vhaeryth does want to wander, and so he does, huffing interrogatively of the stone: dust? Although he does explore, even once going up on his hind legs to better do so, barring any exciting features he's unlikely to stay for long. There's a ledge, after all. A ledge with a view. His rider has to laugh, though there's a touch of seriousness when he says, "Do you need a reason? Sometimes you don't," look, like this, another kiss for the taking. A light one, designed not to overly distracting. Does it need a reason too? And for the record, "I'm pretty sure I'd believe you. Of course, I'd probably guess it was an excuse too, particularly since we didn't give you much notice, did we," and he grins back at her half-lidded. If there's dust, there's not much of it; and there's not much in the way of exciting features, not really - there are shelves, there is furniture, there is a hearth, there might be a bath, but that might be harder to get at. Iesaryth isn't that interested herself, happy with that ledge with a view, quite possibly because she's seen it all already, just in case they end up moving in permanently. As for Brieli, for needing a reason; "I meant more... Is there anything to worry about with what happened, coming in? I try not to hit anyone for no..." She trails off at the kiss, then looks up at N'rov for a moment before grudgingly, "You have a point." Though her arms tighten around his neck, she murmurs reluctantly, "We have to talk?" Because this is more fun, talking about punching and making out. Vhaeryth tunnels his way out, widening his wings with relief once he's back on the ledge proper: more room, so much more room, and how can humans stand it in there, so often? And: has Iesaryth gotten to fly with her rider, yet? Or is that a question he should not ask, that touched with a tinny crinkle of amusement. "We don't have to talk," N'rov points out with some of that same humor. "But if we don't talk, let's not not-talk right here." He'll tug her up the stairs if she'll go, never not touching: nothing to see here, just heading for the make-out row, definitely not smuggling any goods across borders. Only when they get there, "Don't hit him on my account, anyway. We'll be fine. Unless it's becoming a tradition," Tiriana and all. Iesaryth settles herself against the wall for all the widening of wings and stretching and relief, and is quite gratified to find there's still space - but then, she's only about halfway through growing. It might be a bit less spacious a few more months on. And yes, she has flown with her rider, thankyouverymuch. Vhaeryth can not mock her and her languishing and waiting any day now, thanks. She'll even languish against that wall. By contrast, Brieli is quick to follow N'rov - it's actually not really like she's following at all, more keeping pace; what they're off to do seems pretty obvious at least, so if they do talk, no one should suspect a thing. At the top of the steps, she pauses at his last, expression suddenly dark again. "Not funny," she says, reluctant for a beat - but then she lets it pass, follows him into the shadows. "I'll take your word for it, then. It doesn't seem all that productive. And there's people that might use it as an excuse to call me back south, besides." Artistic languishing! Vhaeryth gives Iesaryth the Ledge-Keeper a sidewise glance, and points out, « You hadn't told me. » It was important, and she hadn't told him. Maybe he should mope too? He 'accidentally' leans a paw on the edge, where rain can 'accidentally' drip on it, and stares at it mournfully. His rider, staying dry, pauses before taking a seat, long enough to tug off his jacket and set down his already-removed helmet where they can get the bench wet instead. And he pats his knee: sit? "Sorry," he says quietly, even if there aren't people nearby. "Would they? Call you back or push you out? I mean, it's just as close to us, but it seems like you're ... rooted. Azaylia and the others and everything, this is supposed to be your home, now." « I am sorry. » Iesaryth is unable to keep up her act for long, especially in the face of Vhaeryth's potential offense. Or moping. Watching the bronze's mournful tableau, she cannot hide her amusement, but she will shift to lounge against Vhaeryth, now that he's not totally wet. « I will make sure to tell you important things from now on. What would you know of, Vhaeryth? » In the galleries, it's warm enough that Brieli will toss her own jacket off to the side before perching on N'rov's knee, looping arms loosely about his neck. With an abashed little shrug - it's nothing - she has to admit to him, "They might. Maybe. Though I don't know if it will get to that point, or if it would work if they did. I think that argument would be enough. There's too much to keep me here." Maybe that means Azaylia and the others, maybe it means more than that. "Iesaryth has been speaking to some of the other Weyrs, so. We found that out." Vhaeryth turns his head, humor palpable once again, and moves his near wing a little so it's more comfortable. Also warmer, even if his wing's doing the warming. « Important things, » he says helpfully, leaning back far more lightly than he'd leaned less literally on his rider earlier. « The things you like, » which are bound to be interesting, no? It all lets N'rov relax that little bit more, to smile up at Brieli even as he gives her skirt a tweak: just so it hangs right, ma'am. That's all. "just having an argument about it sounds awful," he has to admit. "And there's a lot to keep you here... but is she scoping out places to go? What's she trying to do?" Iesaryth can't help but enjoy the warmth, settling her head down to watch the bowl, the rain coming down outside. Perhaps this is just the sort of thing Cadejoth was concerned about! « Important to me, to us. I can do that. Soon, we will go all over the area. I will show you. » She promises. Brieli might eye that skirt, wonder who it's hanging right for, but it is a skirt worn so desired parties can admire her legs, so - she's likely not actually all that bothered. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that, then? And what? Oh, no - no, I asked her to. So we could see... what everyone thinks. Of what happened. I thought we might learn a lot." « Good, » and Vhaeryth settles in companionably, without even any posturing for Cadejoth to see; it's still so far out of his worldview. With him settled, N'rov can lean back, though sadly he's missing that view in favor of what the dimness will give him of Brieli's expression: shadows mostly, with her hair hanging down, but he'll pick out what he can and let her voice tell him much of the rest. His own is low. "Hoping, it is. What did you find out?" Conspiring, that's what kids call it these days. Iesaryth is likewise just happy to have the company and find her claimed ledge is large enough for visitors. What if she wanted to have a party? For that low tone, that question, Brieli quirks a slight smile, perhaps barely perceptible in the dim light. "First off, I found out that there was much to find out at all, just from the way they react to her. And so far... this and that." She slides fully into N'rov's lap, leaning against him - it's possible that her whisper is an excuse, but; "Hattie pities K'del, but thinks he's lying. What I told you about Monaco, and they're unhappy besides. Igen won't talk to her, so far." This and that, nothing special. N'rov's been listening closely, not hiding the wry tug of his lips at how they react but saving her from actual interruptions, at least until that nebulous 'this and that.' His mouth opens, he tries to ask... but then Brieli goes and establishes that she knows how to distract a man. Him, anyway. When he's got his breath back, it's only to find his open hands sliding up the outsides of her thighs. "Go on," is what he can offer, trying to catch up. "Pities. K'del. Hattie does. Lying. I got that part. Monaco, check. No Igen. Wonder if it's her they won't talk to, or just anyone, maybe they're insular that way." "... Oh." Brieli really hadn't meant to distract N'rov, or maybe just not distract him so much that he's lost his breath; now he's retaliating by stealing hers away. His touch on her skin makes her shiver, and when she's able to speak, "I really don't know. If it's just them, or us. Or what it is." Her own hands now running over broad shoulders, down his back, she murmurs, "I haven't found out much else yet. Nothing interesting. But... it's not difficult, you just need to... pay attention." There's the barest brush of lips against his neck, brief before she just rests her forehead on his shoulder, trying not to do much more than that. For now. And N'rov hasn't any answer for her, not now anyway, though it's still possible something will swim up when he's trying to sleep. "'Pay attention.'" His laughter rumbles against her fingers, lower than his speaking voice usually is: pay attention to what, exactly? Maybe what he tilts his head to whisper, then, into the dark distraction of her ear. "I... have something for you, what you wanted back. But it's in my pocket," Perhaps she'd like it later? Perhaps she'd like it now. "You should have seen her face light up, when I gave her the rest." "To what they're saying," Brieli explains further, though there's an entertained thread in her tone - what else would you pay attention to? "To what they don't say." She lifts her head as N'rov whispers into it; first listening, then just freezing for a few moments when she sorts it out - even here, even as quiet as the words are, even expecting it, something about it initially panics her. On a long breath, "Thank you. And really?" She's reflective for a moment, before, "I can see that, maybe. I'm glad. I thought she'd have better use for it than I might now." His hand's warm and flat on her back, seeing her through those frozen moments, steady and just maybe steadying. "I think she will. Do... you want to know the rest?" Does he need to ask? Something about the way he says that has Brieli curling in against him, resting her head on his shoulder again, so she doesn't have to look at him. "Yes." Always. "So, all right," he begins, wrapping his other arm around her too, his eyes open but unseeing. "She seemed healthy enough, but tired. A little worried, but maybe that was just me. Also pregnant. She said, she said it wouldn't surprise you." Seeming to relax just a little, she sounds like she's smiling, right now at least. "It doesn't. My-- There was someone before. So, it stands to reason." She lets out a slow breath. Not bad. All of that means she gets, for a moment, something very like a hug, or what a hug would be if he'd admit to it. "I met Dev. He's out of the mines, now. His cough, it isn't good. But people still listen to him." "I... knew about that." Her words are now very hesitant. Careful. That momentary squeeze has her pressed in closer, but she's just a little tense again - though not going anywhere. Flat, tired, "Listen enough that nothing will change once a decision is made." The words aren't easy to say, bitter in her mouth. "Yes?" "That looked about right," N'rov says, his voice low. He doesn't attempt to compress the minimal movements of breathing, of talking, but otherwise he's motionless, uncharacteristically steady. "There were a bunch of girls, hanging out together. There was a woman, I don't know her name, but she was friendly to a stranger. Generous, even. Not like she was the only woman, but she's the only one I talked to... The girl, the one you sent me for, she said there was nothing she could do. That things were different, I think it was. But it seemed like she wanted to." If Brieli could notice that uncharacteristic stillness, she'd likely appreciate it; if she could notice how she was holding onto him, almost too tightly, she'd likely want him to ignore it. There's a few quick little nods as she takes it all in, trying not to react otherwise - but it's hard. She gives a bit of a laugh for the bunch of girls - then can only sigh, shaking her head. She's silent for a long time before, "Well, there's that. She wanted to. Did she... tell you anything?" Not what's been said already, obviously. There's a hesitancy there - anything Brieli might not have wanted her to, say? "She seemed most intent on getting me out of there, before I, or she, got into trouble," is what N'rov admits to, and that with good-humored rue. "I tried to keep it from being obvious, though, so hopefully she wasn't pestered, after. She was... surprised. She's glad for you. I'm sorry there's not more." But he's been saving the best for last, and the smile's surely audible in his voice. "The one little girl? Jyani? She's something, all right. She says to tell you she's coming. Someday." "Don't be sorry. It's not anything you can do anything about. It is what it is." Brieli's tone is rather leaden, but all of it seems to be bad news; it's no surprise. "I'm glad that there wasn't trouble." For either of them, likely - though it's N'rov that she'll tighten her arms around, not concerned about hugging all that much. That last though - she just stops, and she's silent for some time after. It's just before it's about to get awkward that she just whispers, "That'll be the next time I see her." And she wouldn't be crying, because she really hates that. So she's not crying, and N'rov's shirt isn't getting damp, and he's not rubbing her back slowly, carefully, like she's fragile and precious. And he doesn't have anything to say, and he still doesn't know what to say. It doesn't take that long for Brieli to pull herself together; she's used to not-crying, she's not used to having someone there to calm her - likely more than one someone, if Iesaryth hasn't dozed off on the ledge over there. With an undignified sniffle, "I'm sorry." "No need." N'rov's hand runs over her hair, stroking it, and down her back again. "No need," he repeats. He might reach for his jacket, and the handkerchief there, but instead he stays where he is and a little while later says, "I'm glad you sent me. It's a name with a ring to it, Aishani." She doesn't want to cry again. She closes her eyes, letting out a long, slow shaky breath. "I should have never sent you," she manages, voice rough, tone low. "I should have known. You don't care? You don't want something? You don't want to tell them?" It's hard to believe; even so, softly, "It's a family name. It's old." Now he does lean, somewhat awkwardly, fingertips reaching while his other arm stays around her, taking her with him. Muscles in his arm move with the searching of his fingers, for all that they're different hands. There are muffled sounds, metal and leather. And then he's straightening, and he's pressing well-worn linen into her hand. "I want a lot of things," N'rov says somewhat stiffly. "But nothing I'd blackmail you for... if that's what you're wondering." Taking the handkerchief pressed in her hand, Brieli - Aishani, really - wipes away her tears and takes care of her whole sniffling situation. Perhaps realizing she's still huddled miserably against N'rov, she straightens a little, enough to look up at him, for all she seems embarrassed for reddened eyes. With a trace of a smile, "I want a lot of things too. And that's one of the things I was wondering... but those two things weren't related. Connected." A pause. "I... I just want to know what you're going to do. This... this is my whole life." It's not that N'rov relaxes particularly, but his expression gets less stony even before she pauses, and... then, well, he's playing with her hair again, wrapping it around his fingers, even while he's looking back at her face. "I don't plan to let on, to anyone," he says. "Also... maybe I don't know as much as you think I do. I haven't gone poking around, didn't know what would fall out of the closet," and of course he's been kept so busy with other things, even if she hadn't confirmed it only just now. Aishani definitely relaxes; when he's less offended first, when he's playing with her hair, more so. But when he says he doesn't plan to tell, that's enough to bring a low breath of relief, even if he didn't seem like he was about to leap up and go selling her out. "Thank you," she murmurs gratefully, and leans in to kiss him briefly for that. As for the rest, "It's enough that you know. Don't poke, we'll talk about it. At some point." Not now, not after today. "Just-- don't call me that here, unless we're alone." N'rov does returns her kiss, but somehow chastely, his mouth closed and undemanding. "I almost didn't let on," he admits to her. "I know enough to know that it's... not a small thing. I didn't, I don't want you to think that you can't not kiss me because I could tell," and that's on top of the more everyday entertainment of getting to know and have other people not. "It's not a small thing." Aishani can admit that, be serious about it - because being otherwise would be ridiculous. Offering him a slight smile, "And I appreciate why you almost didn't let on. But." She leans close in again, her own kisses brief and gentle as she speaks, "I want to kiss you. I want you. Not because you could tell. Because I always have." And if that last kiss is longer, heated, meant to distract, meant to convince him to make her forget things for awhile, she might be forgiven. She's having a long day. His hand has tightened in her hair, and maybe N'rov can guess what she's doing, what Aishani's doing... but that distraction's welcome, nothing he fights, and he opens up beneath her even as he pulls her close. Her, and her so-admirable legs, and her mouth that has such things to say. Out loud, and otherwise. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Mon, 23 Jul 2012 19:11:43 GMT.
Cadejoth & Hraedhyth: Cockblockers Extraordinaire!
But awwww. Bri-Aishani~
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Mon, 23 Jul 2012 19:24:44 GMT.
Right?!
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