Logs:And Not A Gut Was Spilt
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| RL Date: 6 November, 2013 |
| Who: G'laer, Alida, Ilicaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'laer meets with Alida as requested, sneaking away from a snoozing lifemate and they talk. |
| Where: Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 1, Month 3, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr There are many twisty, turny tunnels throughout High Reaches Weyr. And this just happens to be one of them. It branches off from one of the main ones, taking you away from the craft complex. Here and there are some storage closets, but the hall is mostly bare. It's devoid of decoration and seems to otherwise just take a windy path towards the innards of the Weyr.
Bullshit. Pyrite looks nothing like her mistress. No matter, after gathering the message from the brown (and then trying to offer a pet to the little blighter in thanks), Alida soon enough finds that particular place in the tunnel complex, her soft steps soon interrupted by G'laer's beckoning sound. "Ya' sound like a kid, making that noise..." the blonde murmurs with small, dark humor as she steps up beside the taller man, soon settling her butt lightly against one of the stone walls. Petting apparently doesn't interest the brown, shocking, as that's sure to be. Once the message is delivered, he simply vanishes, apparently not trained to wait for a reply, or maybe not instructed to this time. "Yeah?" is G'laer's query about the noise making him sound like a kid. "Well, I figure having a zero turn old lifemate must bring my number back a few turns if I'm expected to keep up with her." Like people in their twenties don't have babies all the time. "Don't know how long I have. If she starts rousing, I'll have to run without warning. She panics when she wakes and I'm not there." This is relayed matter of factly and likely serve as his preemptive explanation for what seems an inevitable end to their meeting. "Runner shit..." Alida replies back laconically, her smirk lazy. A knowing look and nod is offered back to G'laer's words of possibly having to cut things short if Teisyth wakens, the woman then lightly shaking her braided head a couple of times, then noting low, "Even Ilicaeth wanted me ta not get too far away the first month 'r so...and he's fairly independent." Something in the way she ruminates over that time not so long past might make it seem as if there's hidden import in her words. Not wasting much more time, those green eyes turn back into the weyrling, and the bluie's alto murmurs, "I take it this ain't easy for ya." "Nope." It isn't easy for him, answering the last question first as he offers over the second mug before taking a long sip from his own. G'laer looks tired. There's, of course, the veneer that nothing bothers him and that he's taking it in stride, but there are chinks in that armor, places where the truth can be seen: Teisyth is exhausting him. "If I can get through Crom training, I can get through this." This is stated firmly. Though perhaps it's his mistake to see it as something to be gotten through. "You and Ilicaeth well?" He asks politely then. Surely, he's not trying to change the subject to something other than he and his new lifemate. He ought to recognize the way her frank eyes are currently studying him, since he uses the same look on others. After accepting the mug from him with a small bob of head in silent thanks, Alida notes softly, though candidly, "Yer low on energy, at yer wit's end at least half the time, and wonderin' why the fuck did this happen ta me the other half." A lift of one brow on high is then given for his words of her and her lifemate, a bare nod offered before the blonde murmurs, "No more uv' that politeness claptrap. You know folks like us tend ta deal mostly in hard facts." If that's chastisement, it's mellow, couched as it is in their usual frank guard exchange. It might be infuriating, the way that he neither confirms nor denies her assessment. G'laer just sips his klah, but at the possible scold, he sighs. "What? I'm not allowed to ask after your well-being?" It's a halfhearted protest. He knows he's not winning this moment, so he adds, "What do you want to know?" She knows better. "Uv course you are...when you really mean it." Smirk-sigh. "You don' have ta tell me anything about it. Point is...you can if ya want to." Wait. Did Alida just offer a knowledgeable ear, shoulder to him? Those green eyes turn from G'laer now, finding some point on the opposite tunnel wall to stare at. Thoughtfully, "There was nobody, really, fer me when I had ta deal with the...consequences uv Impressing." Pause. "I had ta deal with enough...internal shit on my own, not ta mention tryin' ta come ta' terms with this new presence inside my head almost all the time." Even now, some Turns later, this fact can still manage to make a fiercely independent person like her twitch just a hint. A finger comes up to waggle chidingly at Alida, although it may also be in a good-humored way, with his lips still set so blandly, it's hard to say, "Who's to say I don't really mean it? It's been seventeen days since I Impressed and the last time we had a conversation that was just you and I. Can you blame a man for wanting to know?" Man, here, probably just means person, but it sounds better as 'man.' It's hard to tell how sincere G'laer's being, but likely that it's at least partially a real argument and a real question. But after making it he quiets for a moment, staring down at his klah. It might seem to not follow, and there's so much he hasn't responded to (yet), but the next thing that comes out of his mouth is an earnest question, "How old do you think I am, Alida?" A wintry little smirk is given to G'laer's words of perhaps meaning his inquiry about the blue pair's status, Alida then stepping beyond such as she addresses the other part of his facetious question. "I figured you two had enough crap ta deal with just tryin' ta get adjusted ta one another without me stickin' my nose in too early." After all, he and Teisyth could've hit it off beautifully...or at least decently. Her own klah is likewise blown on, then cautiously sipped, green eyes finally flicking over to the weyrling again when he asks that particular question. After some moments, "Not really sure. Yer whole bearin' makes me want ta say late twenties, even early thirties...but other things whisper at younger." Shrug, sip. "Why?" The even look G'laer gives her as she speaks of not sticking her nose in too early has one unspoken message: don't think I don't know you didn't answer the question. But he doesn't press her for one again now. He glances back to his klah and up, sipping as she gives her ranged guess. Evidently, he doesn't need a specific number for what he intends to say next, because he doesn't press for one of those either. "So, it'd be safe to say I've had a lot of turns with my mind to myself, dealing with a lot of internal shit on my own," To quote her, though changing the context. "I appreciate your offer." The weyrling stresses the words and lets there be a pause to give the offer the due respect and significance he may not know but possibly suspects. "But I'm still not an open book. Don't know how to be. Which is to say, if there's something you're wanting to know, you're most like to have to ask me." He says it simply, and there's a certain amount of gentility in the tone with which he delivers it. Oh, she knows that he knows...but, being what and who they are, such unanswered question might never be aired again. "Aye..." Alida soon notes in neutral response to G'laer's own 'answer' to her of his own Turns of self-knowledge, though she does slip in a rare rebuttal of, "Impression's...jarring." And very different. The weyrling's honest appreciation of something she rarely offers to anybody finds the bluie nodding back once, then listening more to her fellow guard. His words bring a slow, small smirk to lips often used to such expressions, broken only by the blonde's low comment, "Had ta be polite...fer once." Snert. "Teisyth 'n you..." is suddenly launched into, though with a subtle hint of caution "...she's not what ya thought a bond fer you should be, is she?" "I never said it wasn't." G'laer counters, "What I am saying is that jarring though it is," That much he can admit, "It doesn't change how I process things. Truth be told, it seems like everyone expects me to trot out my feelings and my struggles to share with the world, and they're going to be disappointed. That's not me."It's can be called mildly emphatic at most, but for G'laer, the scale of such things weighs differently. Klah sipping is good for thought gathering, so he does that before answering. "Teisyth is in no way what I thought my lifemate would be like." He says it after the silence, and it's quiet in delivery. "It doesn't seem to matter to her none that that's the case." But that doesn't mean it doesn't matter to him. "Yeah..." the woman allows around another, smaller, yet still knowing bit of a smirk, which she soon buries behind a draught of klah...Alida then quickly wincing at the heat of it. After some moments for self-reflection, the woman notes quietly, "Maybe Ilicaeth's mellowed me a hint. He... he's social." A shade of soft laughter ghosts by her lips, is cut off by a sigh that filters out. "Me either... mostly." More klah evens her out again, provides a little time for G'laer to speak again, to which she can't help responding to with, "It doesn't matter, ta them. I think it must be just how dragons are: accept it all, or don't accept any uv it, an' move on ta the next potential human." A few turns of the mug in her palms presages more: "Unsettling... distressing... fuckin' incredible beyond words." G'laer spends a lot of time staring at his klah mug as Alida speaks. "I'm social," He compares, "I'm just not keen on sharing my inner most." He frowns then, "Can't say that I don't have some problems being social with some of the other weyrlings because all they want is to know my inner most, and that just is not going to happen." No way, no how. Not even if he was drunk. Or so the tone implies. There's only a shrug for Alida's description of how dragons are. Maybe he disagrees, but if so he's not volunteering it. "I'm...not..." Alida replies quietly to G'laer's words of his own sociability, then nodding at him as he speaks of not baring his soul to others. "Likewise..." the blonde murmurs, then blowing on and sipping from her klah again. This kind of talk is quite unusual for her, and it's somewhat obvious, given the small signs of distress about her overall calm form. As if to either gainsay their own words of themselves, or to change the subject, the bluie finds herself inquiring, "Why'd ya devote yer life to the guard?" G'laer probably doesn't miss the small signs of distress; but G'laer's also G'laer, so there's no comfort or sympathy squishies forthcoming from him beyond a simple observation, "You seem to do alright with me. Most times." He lifts the klah, sipping. One who's keen might observe that this is the first time he's sipped rather than gulped anything in Alida's presence. The most obvious conclusion is that the klah is a nicety not something he's aiming to have finished before he has to go running. Her question is at least one he's had to answer before, not one of the many new that he's been presented with in recent sevens. "It was what my parents wanted for me. What my father had wanted for himself before he Stood." With a little wryness, "Yer a rare exception. I blame Ilicaeth." Cue more klah drinking from the blonde, who's inwardly relieved that G'laer doesn't pressure her for things she'd not reveal, anyway. Word of his reasons bring a subtle shift of her features towards the critical, though 'lida's voice remains even, nonjudgmental when she inquires, "An' what did Gallagher want, back then? Shells, what did he want even after he became a guard?" "Noted." G'laer answers the wryness without much inflection of his own, but the next must surely be a joke even if it doesn't sound like one: "Remind me to send him a gift basket." Another sip of the klah before he shrugs. "Gallagher wanted what any twelve turn old only son wanted: to make his parents proud. After becoming a guard?" He shrugs his shoulders again. "In training, it's hard to want anything beyond more sleep, more time to eat, and less getting smoked in the training yard for someone not making their bed by the book. Was being a guard what you wanted?" Pause...smirk. "He says make it extra-meaty, extra raw." And then Alida quiets to hear the 'former' Guard out, her head unable to keep from bobbing a little here and there to his observations of his past...the bluerider's eyes shifting in focus towards her own past, as well...though she chortles softly in memory of training. "Less gettin' smacked around twice as hard 'cause yer a girl and gotta prove yerself twice as tough." Snerk...sip...mull. "When I was really little, I was like most kids: wanna be a dragonrider." Eyeroll, smirk. After I was about 7... all Guard, all the time. Live, drank, ate, breathed...body 'n soul." Before harsh reality set in. "I'll see what I can do." G'laer answers deadpan. "Less, but more, you'd be surprised when you're a spindly scrap of a thing and smarter than most of the rest." Which isn't to say that the male guard is making his experiences equal to Alida's, but just pointing out that everyone's situation is different and has their own hardships. "Bookworms get beat, they used to tell me." He swallows off the last of his klah and lets the mug hang down by his side. "And look at you now. Guard and dragonrider. Wouldn't young-you be impressed." There might be a play on the word 'impressed' there, if he were making a really bad joke. Which he might be. It's just so darned hard to tell with G'laer. "Make it super-sized, too..." Alida notes dryly right back to G'laer's deadpan, the woman again sipping from her drink. To his observation about bookworms and his past, "My mom was a Harper, so I learned ta appreciate brains more 'n the average brat. I enjoy findin' out there's even more between a man's ears than what's..." Ahem, cough, smirk. "You know." It's a credit to her (and someone else) that she's not blushing at this point. "Bookworms learn all the extra special moves that sometimes get left outta' basic trainin'. And they learn bigger words 'n more tactics, too." A flash of even teeth in her grin soon quiets as the bluie notes, "The teenaged me would've scoffed. Shit... the early twenties me woulda." There's no response this time for Ilicaeth's particular requests for his gift basket. Her words about what she appreciates about a man earn a single raised brow from G'laer. There are words that go unsaid, that much can be seen on his face, but nothing more about those unspoken thoughts is given away. "I take it you've grown quite a bit in the past few turns?" Since she can't be so many turns off from 'early twenties' by his silent reckoning. She listens, works on not blushing at G'laer's brow raise - and triumphs - and pulls from her remaining klah in the meantime. When Alida finally answers, it's quietly. "Bein' parent to a dragonet, then ownin' up to the further responsibility uv becomin' a full partner ta yer lifemate'll do that." "Parent." The word sounds sour coming out of G'laer's mouth and it pulls his lips into a frown. "I've heard it has a way of making a person grow up." He manages after a moment, and just before he focuses at a spot on the opposite wall. It's not the traditional distant look of some riders speaking with their lifemates, so perhaps it takes the words to make it clear that's what's transpired. "She's stirring. You mind?" He offers over his empty mug in hopes she'll take care of that for him so he doesn't get accused of mug thievery. "S'what I thought, too..." Alida notes flatly to G'laer's sour-sounding and single word, the woman's lips twisting just a hint. "At least with Ilicaeth, he grew up fast enough not ta drive me too shitball crazy. He was worth it...in the end." The sudden curl of one side of the bluie's mouth into a lazy smirk might speak of some sort of rebuttal from her blue, but it all goes astray when the weyrling notes his own new 'baby' is waking. A quick shake of head and a lift of her free hand to nab his empty mug presage her draining the last of her own, then a quick, "What's she like?" « You, however, were an' ARE nothin' but a fuckin' pain in my ass. » Swirl-scoff. (To Alida from Ilicaeth) "No time," G'laer answers without apology, "Next time." He adds hurriedly. His priorities are in the right place though as he breaks into a jog out of the tunnel, a jog that turns into a flat-out run once he hits the bowl. No panicking baby if he can help it. "What; no smart-assed, one-word comment?" Alida calls out dryly to the jogging G'laer, the woman then looking at her two empty mugs for a moment before heading back in towards one of those tunnels that leads towards the Kitchen. Only to herself and Ilicaeth is commented, "At least you were okay with me bein outta eye range most uv the time." |
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