Logs:And There Was Much Rejoicing: yay.
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| RL Date: 7 December, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Rh'mis, Rosvelth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Teisyth's 8th flight is G'laer's 31st turnday present. Rh'mis guest stars thanks to Rosvelth. He jumps out of a cake. |
| Where: Flight Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 6, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions |
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| Jo had been a little slice of perfection, especially when compared to the feeling of pulling away from Rh'mis, panting and unwillingly satisfied. G'laer would've refused this turnday gift if only he could have. He'd like to be lazily satisfied and unguarded, and he can't help some of that because it takes time to get one's brain back in order after a flight, but he does, shift away from Rh'mis on the bed, stopping with one knee drawn up under him and one foot finding the ground, shirt still on but pants long since abandoned. For now, G'laer doesn't speak. The fact that 'this sucks' is written all over his face, now, while he's not yet as guarded as he'd like to be. It's probably worse now that they see each other almost every day in wing drills and duties. It's not so different from every other time this has happened, really, though at least Rhey's belt got removed this time-- probably because he started undressing himself before the flight even ended. It's kind of a grim reality; acceptance, but only in the sense that there are some things a person simply cannot avoid. Now that it's over, though, he's pulled away in an instant, turning to find his clothes with an expression that is utterly blank, as if he's withdrawn from reality, moving on auto-pilot. "I fucking quit," he says. G'laer doesn't move initially, but probably this is the greenrider being kind and not crowding Rh'mis in the pursuit of clothes. "I'd make it stop if I could," is his rejoinder, quiet but oddly sincere. Neither of them want to be here. "Sorry," this, too, is genuine if kept simple. He doesn't look directly at Rh'mis, but he's surely aware of he-who-once-threatened-to-knife-him in his periphery. Rh'mis's, "You're the one who keeps following me," may not make a lot of sense... unless he's still bitter over the fact that the other rider is now in his wing, and worse, his wingsecond. He shoves his legs into his pants angrily, gaze kept squarely away from the other rider. "If she'd risen during the day like a normal green we wouldn't've been here." Stupid Teisyth. "You want out of the wing? I can see that happens. I'm not turning in my knot." Simple as that. G'laer shifts to stand, still not looking at the brownrider. He doesn't even threaten him over talking about his dragon. "You want to bury the hatchet and just do our jobs, I can see that that happens too." It's an olive branch. He doesn't bother to address the fact that he can't control when she rises and would probably, at this point, rather skip the whole affair if he could. "I want..." but Rhey doesn't know what he wants (except to not have to fucking fuck G'laer anymore, presumably), and trails off. "Fuck you. All of you." At least his pants are back on, and the early summer morning is warm enough that he can probably wait to put his boots on until later. "Just leave me the fuck alone." G'laer sighs, finally moving to collect his own pants. "You know that's not going to happen, Rhey." He's actually trying not to be an asshole right now; chalk it up to the residual influence of Teisyth if that's less terrifying. "At least not professionally. But you can choose the terms. We can be civil, or we can not." Up to the younger man. A turnday means G'laer gets to be extra old and extra wise, right? Rh'mis is, for another couple of months anyway, still a teenager; he's allowed to be moody and angry and all that, right? His words, as he reaches to reclaim first one boot and then the other, are defiant; spit from his mouth, really, rather than spoken. "Fuck you." Maybe he won't show up for drills again. Maybe he never will. "Okay." That's under G'laer's breath. This isn't: "Been there, done that. If we could never do it again, ever, that'd be just greeeeat." He's lacing his pants, he's trying to just leave. Teisyth? She's having a much better time hearing the usual story with her usual rapt attention and sense of wonder. Rosvelth, too, is having a wonderful time. It's a pity Rhey is about to storm out of the weyr, find his dragon, and force him away from the green; "Don't you ever do that again," he mutters to the brown. "Ever." Ever. Ever, ever, ever. |
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