Logs:Change in Plans
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| RL Date: 4 April, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Daehyeth's flight, neither Iesaryth nor Shani are all that happy, though in different ways. N'rov's not that thrilled when he gets there either. |
| Where: Aishani and Iesaryth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Lia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Emooooooo. |
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| It's later, now, when N'rov heads up the stairs towards Iesaryth's ledge. If he's maybe too casual, carefully avoiding both the smugness of Scylla and the guilt of Charybdis, it might not solely be for the benefit of any locals who want to spy something more conspicuous, something gossip-worthy, as he traverses in the moonlit darkness. He's clean, now. The most exciting thing about him is the cool compress that he keeps holding up to his face, even as he surmounts the ledge and takes a discreet if one-eyed look at Iesaryth. Well? He might actually have to venture close to going inside, as for once, Iesaryth is not on her ledge to survey the Weyr, despite the lack of cold and the burgeoning spring. No, the queen has chosen to curl up indoors, though the curtains aren't shut tight; she can open a set of lids to look out at him in the dim light, clearly sulking. Oh. You. Darkened eyes are quick to shut tight again - she's not interested in N'rov, nor his company, but she's not going to stop him from going in, either. That's their business, but she's clearly displeased with him and his lifemate both. And... sadly for them both, Iesaryth is gifted with a longer memory than most. N'rov inhales, holds it, doesn't apologize on the equally controlled exhale. Instead, "Evening, Iesaryth." He enters, closing the curtain carefully behind him against a draft, and continues inside to see what there is to see. There's still light, as he was expected at some point; not much though, given it's late... or maybe early at this point. And there's some work left in one of the armchairs, likely nothing important, quiet in the large room. It's also dim, but not dark beyond the glass beaded curtain - there's a sound from there, a shifting or a rustling. Shani's home, apparently, but where else would she be? Lowly, disembodied from the room beyond, "Are you all right?" Maybe Iesaryth's not so pissed that she can't pass that along. "Hey." Relieved, probably, N'rov slings his jacket over one of the wicker chairs for it to wear, dropping off some of his other things on its seat before heading in that direction. There's a soft clatter of beads as he pulls some of them aside, to either side of him like a wig of long, colorful hair. "Didn't get knifed, so that's good, right?" And though he isn't apologizing for Vhaeryth's flying Daehyeth, "I'm sorry about the... change in plans, for this evening." "It's something." Aishani's not exactly in bed, though it looks like she made some effort to sleep; she's sitting on it, bare-shouldered with dark curls tousled, wrapped up in sheets and furs, not looking at him right yet. It might have something to do with the handkerchief clutched in one hand, that she tries to ball up and hide. With a shrug, "You don't have anything to apologize for." It's difficult to say, but it sounds like she appreciates it all the same. "What happened to you?" He might catch a glimpse of it, one-eyed, he's looking at her and what she's doing that intently. But, "We had plans." Even casual plans, "I don't like to break them," or anything else. After that, N'rov shrugs. "K'del's fist." "Fucking K'del," she says, suddenly, tone savage, vehement - everything from the evening going into those two words. And just as suddenly, Shani's head is bowed and her expression is covered with her dark hair - but she's wiping her fist under her eyes like she's forgotten there's something in it. "I hate this," she manages, trying to keep her voice even. "I hate this and I hate that I can't hate it or hate anyone for it. And I hate that it's someone who hates me. I can't stand any of it." It's her pain, not her earlier anger, that makes him grimace... and then survive the wince that comes after it. Treading quietly to the edge of the bed, N'rov sits there, a compression of the mattress and furs nearest her hip. He can't say, She doesn't really hate you. He can't even say he doesn't know. He can't even claim that he won't hate it if or when Iesaryth... when Iesaryth. "I'm sorry," he says, bleakly. There's a little sway toward him and away as he sits, as if she wants the comfort of leaning against him but can't quite bring herself for do it yet. Drawing her knees up closer, curling up tighter into a little ball, Shani rests her forehead on them, trying to stop crying already, dammit. But given she rarely lets herself, it's hard to turn off. And lucky N'rov gets to be there nearly every time! "Couldn't even make sure it happened once." That's bitter, even now, especially now, before she can breathe, calm herself a little. As somber, "Don't be. Don't. It's not your fault." It'd be easier if it was. A shift in the cushioning beneath her comes with the bronzerider's lean, to put his arm around her shoulders if she'll have him. "It's not like she gives us a lot of practice," N'rov says, wryly. He doesn't protest that it is too his fault, doesn't blame it on the green or her rider or even K'del (though that last may have to do with how sufficiently he gets blamed already, thanks). His voice is quiet. "Do you want to try and get some sleep? I'll have to lie on my right side, though." She'll have him, but she stiffens at first, involuntarily; it's like she has to consciously make herself relax - and even then, she won't quite lean into him, there's none of that ease between them right now. Not that it won't come back. "No," she murmurs. "I suppose she doesn't." And if Shani wants to blame K'del (or anyone else), it's certain she'll find a way anyway. With a shake of her head, "I don't know. I tried. I couldn't." That was before, though. There's a long pause, then over a heavy sigh, reluctant, "Can I ask you to do something?" And that makes him flinch, and so he pats her shoulder in muted apology and draws his arm back. "What's that?" N'rov asks. That doesn't make her happy either, but she's never been someone to love being touched... though he's usually an exception to that particular rule. It makes her uncurl a little, enough to peek up at him now, dark eyes reddened, still half-hidden behind a curtain of tousled curls. And her expression falters - she just shakes her head and looks away again, reaching out to take his hand, leaving behind the balled up handkerchief along the way. "I'm sorry. Never mind. It doesn't matter." "Hey," N'rov says again, like he'd said when he first walked in, but quieter now. He adjusts the compress, finally going so far as to flip it over, and then he laces her hand with his. "Hey. It matters to you. Not like I'll make you, don't want to make it worse, but... tell me? If you don't, I'll let it go." Or try. Not just not ask again. Glancing over at him again, Aishani visibly winces as he flips over the compress, reaching her free hand out as if she'd touch the bruise, but dropping her hand just short. "Why is it always the face?" she wonders quietly, trying on a wan smile. It fades a little though, and she squeezes his hand before her gaze falls to the bed, where she can pick at the sheet to distract herself. Slowly, "Just... at home, whatever it is you do when... he doesn't... I'd really like it if you could try to-- not." A beat. "I don't like how some girls have looked at me when I'm there." She hates asking this too, incidentally. It's all over her, in her face, her posture. "Obviously they're jealous," N'rov says, and whatever of that's not joking is focused on what, whether, she's going to say next. He listens, closely, never mind that his expression's tightening. But he'd asked for it, and so, "At home. At Fort?" A moment later, "I'll assume you're not talking about the drinking." Shani chances a flicker of a look N'rov's way, enough to catch his expression, enough that she won't look for long. But her fingers stay twined with his, despite the fact that she looks, sounds more and more like she'd like to be somewhere else. "At Fort," she confirms evenly. Though there's a little of her usual sarcasm for, "Oh, no. I'm clearly concerned with who you drink with." "So the low-class beer, I better stay away from that," N'rov determines. The first moment of delay might be accidental, but the next might be drawn out, pushed out, on purpose. When he can say it without sounding particularly bitter, "Fine." He's looking at the discarded handkerchief. "I can't say that I wouldn't want the same, in your shoes. Even if they weren't giving me the side-eye." "Try," Shani reiterates, even though she doesn't have to, though whether that's for staying away from low-class beer or women or both, it's hard to say. Maybe it's that drawn out moment that makes her do it, maybe the fact that he doesn't sound bitter, that she's able to let out that breath she'd been holding. Her fingers tighten around his, and her dark gaze strays to his face again, even if he's looking at the balled up bit of fabric. "You're lucky," she says lightly. "Even if she doesn't give us practice. You don't have to worry about it." Much. He doesn't nod, and he doesn't relax, and one might wonder if he hadn't heard. Not dropping her hand, he reaches to snag that handkerchief and try to press it flat with his thumb. "And because I don't have to worry, that means I definitely won't. No, no worrying for me." It's a little damp. Shani actually goes so far as to try to stop him, to catch his wrist in a mute protest - no, it might be gross! - but when it's too late, she'll let him distract himself. But she'll lean down to the bed, to their hands to kiss the top of his, then edge in closer, draping that arm back around her shoulders. With an apologetic look for earlier, she won't tell him not to worry, or that she'll try, or that it's a long way off. Just simply, "I love you." It'll be all right. Well, not awesome, okay. But it'll work out. N'rov's been a boy, he's seen considerably grosser than that... though maybe not connected with Shani. "Love you too," he says, and leans to kiss her hair. He looks at the handkerchief again. Again, "Love you." So they've got that. She's looking at the handkerchief too, uncertain, but still; "Let's try to sleep." She might this time, and even if she doesn't, it's better not to talk for now, maybe. Just be close. |
Comments
K'del (K'del (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 04 Apr 2013 22:18:48 GMT.
< I love seeing the more vulnerable side of Aishani come out-- it's a good reminder that under all the bravado, she really is still so young.
(And emo. Oh god, both of them. XD)
Love it.
Lia (Satiet (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 04 Apr 2013 23:00:21 GMT.
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Poor Aishani. Poor N'rov. Sooo much emo. And yes, it's nice to see Aishani vulnerable and still... young underneath all t... basically what K'del said. I'm a parrot.
Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 04 Apr 2013 23:11:17 GMT.
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Oof. Trouble in paradise, it seems. Doses of emo are healthy!
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