Logs:A Sour Evening
| |
|---|
| RL Date: 18 August, 2015 |
| Who: Nala, M'vyn |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nala comes to M'vyn's (Their) weyr and a fight ensues |
| Where: M'vyn's Cosy For Keeps Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 7, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aislara/Mentions, Cece/Mentions |
  |
| Of late, Nala has not always shown up to stay for the days and nights she usually does, her 'attendance' erratic at best, but this evening Jynth has chosen a spot on Elsyth's ledge to occupy, and his rider has bypassed any attempt at formality to move straight through the weyr as if she owns it. Maybe that's something of the point she's trying to make, her clothes discarded too obviously here and there in a trail that leads towards the bedroom. Nala's gone and curled up in the bed, shoulders peeking out from the bundle of blankets, the straps of her black nightdress visible. Tippetarius has claimed one of the pillows and sleeps soundly, though whether the bluerider actually sleeps is not so clear. Elsyth lands on her ledge with the barest of glances given to Jynth. She waits until M'vyn has dismounted to make her way into the weyr itself, choosing to keep distance between them. She doesn't reach out towards the blue: which, given her temperament, may show more than if she were to acknowledge him otherwise. Once M'vyn has Elsyth settled, he moves inside and begins to notice the trail and it's direction. He pauses, frowning, as he eyes discarded clothing and then glances towards the bedroom. He doesn't follow that telltale trail right away, choosing to pour himself a glass of whiskey and then refills his while he gathers one for Nala. With this in hand, the greenrider strides into the bedroom and moves forward to offer her the glass. "This reminds me of another time entirely," he drawls to Nala as he perches on the edge of the bed, his eyes shifting towards the straps and whatever else may be visible to him. Either Nala is well on her way to sleep, or she's unwilling to be rushed into responding, for she's lazy as she turns to stretch out on her back, to look up at M'vyn, before she rolls onto her side and reaches out to claim the offered glass. Her nightdress is not exactly demure, yet nor is it too provocative, and though low of cut, it serves more to cover than entice. "Do share," she murmurs over the rim of her glass just a little bit darkly, though she cannot be ignorant of what he means. "I'd hate to presume." If her words are tainted by a biting edge of sarcasm, her expression betrays nothing. M'vyn's eyes narrow slightly in answer to her sarcasm as he lifts his glass to take a sip from. He's edged off the need for too much of a temper with the earlier glass he's indulged in so he doesn't immediately comment to her. "Finding you in my rooms, under my covers, and nearly asleep or pretending to be," he decides to clarify, shifting to set his glass on the ground so he can untie and shuck off his boots. "Simpler times, I suppose," he comments, wriggling his feet for a second before he reclaims his glass to sip. It's after another mouthful from her glass that Nala pauses for a moment, then asks, "Has she been in this bed?" in a slightly more even tone than before. She doesn't watch M'vyn as she waits for an answer, but sets her glass down beside the bed and stretches her arms high over her head, then settles down on her back now, blankets tangled around the base of her ribcage. Though outwardly calm, she's betrayed by Tippetarius, who wakes with a disgruntled chatter of sound and promptly takes herself off Between. That question draws forward M'vyn's anger in a flash as he shoves to his feet and strides away. He pauses near the entrance of the room, the opening and closing of his fingers indicating his battle with himself. He keeps his fists tightened as he turns to face her, the darkness of his gaze leveled on her. "She has," he delivers that answer with no further explanation. He rolls his shoulders to loosen the tension riding there and then returns to the bed long enough to retrieve his glass. He eyes her for a moment, considers his glass, and then adds, "She did last night." The barb delivered, he looks up at her and awaits her reaction. Nala makes a sound better befitting a furious, wounded animal, the snarl she delivers as she kicks herself free of the blankets like they're infected a near inhuman noise. She may well knock over her glass in the process, not that she apologises or appears to care, for she no more watches its path than she watches M'vyn as she bolts from the bed and begins to stalk her way from the room, collecting up her abandoned clothing as she goes. Her boots, she finds near the couch and presses atop the bundle of creased fabric of her garments, no intention to actually dress apparent as she moves for the ledge. M'vyn follows after her, watching the reaction he created with no readable expression of his own. He takes a few casual sips from his glass and then sets it on the table as she reaches for her boots. He doesn't rush after her, though he does eventually make his way ahead of her path for the ledge. It isn't meant to be an effective blockade as he stands there, arms folding in front of him as he narrows his gaze down at her. "Really?" he questions, a brow lifting. "This is really the reaction that I'll receive? Shall I toss her aside and all others to suit your needs? If I dismiss Cece from pursuing me, you must dismiss Aislara." Again, he sets his trap and watches with renewed interest for her reaction. "I will not lie in the same sheets that she has fucked you in," Nala says too clearly to be simply, logical argument. She doesn't give him the satisfaction of trying to push past him. "You have summed it all up quite nicely, have you not? 'Dismiss' and 'all others'. At least I keep it to one. Pleasing us all - or not - must be such a chore for you." The bluerider shrugs a shoulder and looks towards the ledge, still clinging to her clothes. "I have no way of knowing that you would do as you say even if I agreed. I have no wedding band. Aislara is not something to dismiss - and at least I can believe her heart is in it." "If there were others, it should be of little or no issue between us," M'vyn defends, straightening shoulders and tightening his hands in response to her words. "Are we not dragonriders?" His tone is condescending and his lip twitches. She isn't pushing and he isn't moving out of the way as he continues to keep his gaze locked on her. "Back to the band," he says, "a contract is not enough? I will brand you with a band if it means you'd do as a wife would." He tilts his head slightly, eying Nala with another lifted brow. "Her heart is in it but yours is not? I don't love Cece," he informs her, "I find her amusing and comforting. If I told her I was done she would not not cry about it. She's not that type of woman." "Were or are? Male or female?" Nala knows exactly what nerve she's aiming for there, if her faint smirk is any indication. "You cannot have it both ways, husband. Either we are dragonriders or I am your wife. What example have you of real wives? Do you know how many women are locked into marriage to conceal their husband's... preferences?" Another shrug. "What expectations can you possibly have of a wife, beyond claiming your own enjoyment?" Whether to unburden herself or to attempt to twist the knife, she states, "I love Aislara. She is not disposable." M'vyn's reaction is likely what Nala had hoped for as he scowls at her and moves his arms to fold in front of his chest. He holds them there for a count of ten and then releases them once more to his side. "Men aren't so bad," he holds his tone as flat as possible, "if they know what they're doing." Mention of women locked up draws no anger from him, if anything the beginnings of his defeat begin to mark his features as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. He looks away from her then, not wanting to look at her and so does not show his reaction as once more she reminds him of her love for Aislara. He could find words for her and continue the fight but he does nothing further. He steps to the side, making it clear he'll permit Nala to go if she wishes. What she wanted or otherwise, Nala is at least a hypocrite, for she looks faintly sick for M'vyn's comment about other men. Still, she makes herself stand taller and begins to move past him. "I mean it," she turns to say. "You go on about wanting me to stay here and be here, when you are sleeping with other women and men in the bed that was ours. At least my weyr is only a place where I sleep." She bites down on the inside of her lip. "...I thought things would be different when I came back. I have tried to do as you asked. Be here. Spend time with the children. And, in the end, you behave as if I am the one you are ashamed to be seen with. I'm still the dirty secret. I know it excites you... but sometimes it would be nice to be the wife and the husband." "Tell me Aislara never sleeps in your bed. I have to keep a separate space as well? We have to have three places to live?" M'vyn shakes his head and flings his hand towards the ledge. "Go, then. Go to your weyr," he tries but fails to hide the bitterness in his tone, "I don't sleep in this bed with men. I am a fucking greenrider and I have no choice. Would you rather, or perhaps I should, return to feeling so vile for that reality that I--," he cuts himself off. He surely missed Nala's look of disgust and though he was ready to play his contentment with that, now it isn't sitting so well. "Go home," he tells her, turning from her. "You know you were never a dirty secret. I'm tired of this argument." He heads back towards the bedroom without further comment. "You sneak in and out of my weyr as if you wish no-one to see," Nala replies with another shrug. "I have the decency to change the sheets," she remarks. "Though I see why you would not, since it is easier to use me to have your fun in empty corridors and dark rooms." When she glances through the weyr, it's not after M'vyn, but at the various surfaces. "...I will return for my things when you are next at drills," she murmurs, unwilling to claim what few things she's left over the months she's spent nights. When she moves off, she plainly cares little if anyone sees her dressing on the ledge, behind what shielding Jynth can provide, and rather than drift across to their ledge, when they leave, it's to Between. |
Leave A Comment