Logs:Come and Get Me
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 6 January, 2016 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys, Aidavanth, Evyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: In the morning, Lys makes a move to get Jocelyn's attention. In the evening, they get each other's undivided attention to celebrate the end of Jocelyn's tenure as wingsecond. |
| Where: Glitter and Glass Weyr and Jocelyn and Aidavanth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Irianke/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sex. Mild angst. |
    |
| The trouble with the last day of the weyrlinghood month is that most of the reports have already been written or turned in. Most of the assessments have been either passed or failed. It gives license to those clever enough to be patient to act more freely because the consequences are simply more limited, by and large. That's probably why it's this last day of Jocelyn's tenure as wingsecond that Evyth's mind flutters with an odd mixture of concern, embarrassment and perhaps a little excitement, as she reaches for Aidavanth before she and Lys are due at morning line up, but not much before. It should be enough that neither could end up late, if they're quick about things. « Aidavanth? » It's uncertain because the next is awkward and infused with the green blush of ichor, « Lys... says she's going to be quite late unless Jocelyn comes to get her. » (To Aidavanth from Evyth) There's the sense that Aidavanth and Jocelyn both might already be halfway out the door and ready to report for this last line up as wingsecond when Evyth relays this peculiar message from Lys. It gives the queen due pause, at any rate; her sibling's mixture of emotions is noted, observed and in all likelihood, also passed along to her own rider. It takes some moments for a reply to be forthcoming, but one is sent after a few minutes, brief and to the point: « Expect us shortly. » (To Evyth from Aidavanth) To Aidavanth, Evyth is pleased and relieved, but still nervous. That in of itself might be foreboding. As well it should be since Lys' first words to the goldrider when she arrives, from within the weyr, is a called, "Joce, I need your help!" She doesn't sound in distress, if anything her tone is a little light, and within the weyr, she stands with her back to the entry, topless, two shirts lying on the bed in front of her. Only once the goldrider's footsteps are heard does she say, "I can't decide which shirt I ought to wear today," in that tone that is just so innocent and at the same time wholly aware of exactly what she's doing. "We're due to report for line up, " Jocelyn says unnecessarily as she heads inside, arms crossed. "What - " And the redhead is stymied into silence, cheeks coloring faintly once she catches sight of what she can see of Lys's back. "You'll look lovely in either of them. More importantly, you'll be able to work in either of them." Let's go, already. She's not exactly amused, but she at least permits some fondness to be injected into her exasperation. "Come on. You shouldn't be late. I shouldn't be late." There's smooth skin and there's Lys' tattoo, hints of which have surely been seen before. Her left shoulder holds, in relief, rock falling away from the rest, shards turned to stars that fall in a delicate wave to the center of her back where the last star, larger than the rest and made into a compass rose, is centered over her spine. "It's the last day and we need to talk. I haven't been able to get you alone otherwise," is remarked in a tone that holds no urgency and might be infuriatingly casual. "Now, I can put on a shirt and you can spare me a few minutes or I can turn around and you might have to spare me more than a few," such is her confidence that she can detain the goldrider if need be. "But under threat doesn't seem the way to take that step," she'll volunteer that much, glancing back at Jocelyn with a daring expression. "Lys, " Jocelyn exhales at some length, one hand reaching up to rub at her temple. "I've - you must know that I've missed our time together, too." 'Time together' must refer to time where they both permit themselves closer interactions than the more public study sessions they've shared this month. "It is the last day. I won't be a supervisor, " and her nose wrinkles for the term, "of you directly after it's over." But the greenrider's conditions elicit a pursing of her mouth, a glance behind her to where Rukbat's coming up more fully. Matter-of-factly, "If you haven't other plans, I was hoping to be able to see you tonight and - spare you more than a few minutes, as you put it." There's a step forward, as if she's drawn in that direction quite by instinct, before her movement halts again. Gently, "For now, I think you should get dressed." Lys takes her moment to consider this, but not too long a moment, the need for the conversation must be more pressing than her need to make there be 'wait time' now. She snags up a bra between the shirts and makes quick work of pulling it on before the blouse comes next. It's only once that's done that she turns to face the goldrider. "Only it isn't, Joce." The blonde says these words with gravity and candor. She searches the goldrider's face. "I've been respectful of what you felt you needed to do this month because it's the first time that you're directly my superior, and because I wanted you to have all the tools you need to succeed," there's a fond gentility to that, as Joce wanted the same for her when it was her turn. Then she crosses the space in no time at all and seeks to claim the redhead's hands. "Jocelyn, you're going to be my superior, my indirect supervisor, or maybe even my direct supervisor if Irianke will entertain my idea of joining the queen's wing, for all of the rest of our lives. I need you to trust yourself with that, with me, with us that way." There's a brief pause before she adds, "And I would very much like to have another date with you tonight." Jocelyn's hands are easily claimed, even while blue-gray eyes study Lys silently as she listens to the other weyrling's speech. She has to clear her throat before she can articulate a response, brow furrowing a little. "I trust myself, Lys. I don't trust that other people wouldn't - " Speculate? Say something? Accuse her of favoritism if she gave Lys the favorable reviews which she deserves? She exhales, fingers curling about the other's hands. "I don't want anyone to have any grounds to suppose that I'd grade you well - or recommend you for things bigger than grades in the future simply because we're known to be close friends - or because you've grown to mean as much to me as you do. My personal feelings cannot, will not impact my professional decisions. I'd like to think that most people already assume that about me." And as for the notion of another date, well; there's the brush of both thumbs to Lys's wrists in response. "Have a drink with me after dinner." Lys' fingers curl automatically more around Jocelyn's as the gesture is returned, gripping with a gentle pressure. "Consider this, Joce," her voice softens profoundly as she steps in to close the personal space, letting their hands remain between but not leaving room for much in the way of air, "not everyone is as moral and right as you are and would like to be perceived. We can't control how people perceive what they observe or what they do with those perceptions, wrong or otherwise. As far as I know, no one know yet of our association," she probably chooses that word just for Jocelyn, judging from the way she smiles just a little, and a little impishly at that. "But when someone learns," since surely one day, someone will, somewhere, somehow, "that someone may decide to do me professional harm," or personal, but she doesn't say that. "By creating this distance and seeking always to maintain it, you're making it all the more likely that if someone is harming me for reasons relating to our association and I ask you to step in, to protect me from something unjust, it will be seen as all the worse for your previous, careful distance." She stops there, searching Jocelyn's face, does she see the problem Lys is explaining? By distancing herself, she may actually be setting them up for a worse public perception in the long run. "What would you have me do?" prompts Jocelyn quietly, gaze drifting to where their hands are joined between them. "If I could put my arm around you at dinner, take you to our first Gather together as full riders and dance as closely as I'd like to without worrying that someone would try to do either of us professional harm, I would, " never mind stepping on another's toes at present. Briefly, her eyes close; they open again moments after, lifting to regard Lys. Wryly, "Then again, perhaps it wouldn't be so unusual if I did, some time." Her tone sobers, "I want to plant myself and Aidavanth between you and anyone who'd wish you harm, of any sort. I may not always be able to, but, " and she trails off, features scrunching into a face. "I don't know if any of this is coming out correctly. I'm not very good at this, remember." Lys' clever tongue trips over the first word she has in answer. It sounds a lot like an 'L' sound starting that quickly changes to, "Joce," as one hand slips away from the goldrider's to reach up and cup her cheeks. "Those things only matter if you want them to. I'm happy being your secret-- for this to be our secret as long as it's feasible. What I'm saying is..." she has to take a moment to organize those thoughts, "people know we're friends. That's good. I don't want favors and I don't want favoritism and you don't want to give me those things," it's good they're agreed that way, "but it wouldn't hurt for public perception to let people assume small favors or let them assume small favoritisms, even when there is none. It will be turns before I'm eligible for any position as a rider worth having unless I want to train weyrlings," the face she makes suggests a firm 'no' even if Evyth would be excellent at it. "You're working harder than you need to work, Jocelyn, because you're trying to control something inherently uncontrollable. This is about you. Even if---" She blinks rapidly and then quickly finishes, "--things don't work out between us, romantically, anyone you might be with after me-- the same things will be true." Jocelyn's lashes flutter shut again, however short a time they do, for that cup of palm to her cheek. "Gossiping busybodies would probably eventually tangle us anyway since we do spend considerable free time together, " she reasons, regarding Lys seriously when her eyes meet hers again. "I'd like to offer you an assurance that it wouldn't have to always be a secret. I can safely say that I don't want it to have to be. And I get the impression that as our - comfort grows, " there's a wry, if gentle look for her choice of terminology, "some things won't stay a secret. These walls are solid, but I don't trust that they wouldn't filter - " And she clears her throat, cheeks flushing faintly, even as her expression gentles for the greenrider's last. "I want things to work, too. Now - please come along so that we aren't late?" It's more a request than anything else. Fortunately, they aren't late for morning line up (even if they're cutting it a little close) and the rest of the day passes without injury or incident in drills. Lys has a blush but also a grin for what might not filter. The request gets a moment of pretended contemplation before, "I think I'm going to need motivation, Wingsecond." And that will come in the form of a breath-stealing fervent kiss that is altogether too brief, the blonde's arms seeking to press Jocelyn tightly to her for that moment. Hoping to leave the goldrider still reeling, the blonde pulls back flashing a cheeky smile, "Come on, Joce, don't want to be late," and a wink even before she's moving to step past her and head out to the ledge, passing Evyth (already wearing her straps, of course,) in her wallow to wait their turn to depart from the ledge that may be holding increasing difficulty for the now much larger gold. Later that evening, after final briefings are over and the privilege of being wingsecond is well on its way to being passed to another, Aidavanth is at home to keep an eye out for Lys's arrival. Jocelyn's appearance at dinner is brief, and her abrupt departure after finishing her plate isn't an unusual occurrence. Her weyr seems empty at first, illuminated not by the phosphorescence of glows, but several large candles carefully placed about the outer area to render the otherwise severe room a trifle cozier. There's a tray on the table with a small selection of fruit and cheese, accompanied by a bottle of inexpensive white and a decanter that holds something amber; perhaps something similar to the whiskey that Lys has had in her weyr on occasion. It's not unusual that Lys sits with V'ret at dinner, or somewhere between V'ret and Jocelyn on the length of the table that belongs to the weyrlings. Sitting next to the bronzerider doesn't stop the greenrider from shooting a few looks down the table to the gold as conversation goes on among the group. It's probably that she didn't want to encourage suspicions that she's a time before arriving in Jocelyn's weyr. When she does though, she's dressed prettily in a long grey skirt and maroon blouse with a scooped neckline. "Good evening, Aidavanth," she greets the gold with a smile and a familiar greeting touch. "May I go in?" The greenrider doesn't always stop to ask, but since she's later than expected, though surely Evyth passed along that she would be there as soon as she could, and this is a date and not just friends getting together to hang out or study, so she asks tonight and waits for permission before heading inside. Aidavanth has a welcoming croon for Evyth's rider, eyes a steady green-blue for the touch in greeting. That brilliant nose tips down from the height of a small brown, head swinging briefly to the doorway: yes, yes, go on in. Lys is, after all, expected. There's no immediate sign of Jocelyn being present inside, but someone's already positioned two goblets across from each other at the table, candlelight shining in its reflection on the glassware. 'Help yourself', might be the impression that's meant, even as slight rustling sounds from behind the second curtain certainly give away the other woman's location. Lys has a soft smile for the ambiance of the room, her blue-green gaze taking it all in; it looks rather different than when Irianke occupied these same rooms. She moves to the goblets and sets about pouring with deft skill, picking up the decanter briefly to dare a sniff before setting it back where it belongs. She must trust Aidavanth to let Jocelyn know she's arrived because she doesn't call out, lingering by the glasses but not yet drinking. If there were a mirror handy, she might check her light cosmetic enhancements, but there isn't so she just lets her eyes traipse across the room, returning to the curtain at regular intervals. Jocelyn emerges after some moments more, wrapped in a black jumpsuit that appears to be simply held together at the waist by a hastily-tied bow. She's taken some further pains with her appearance, brushing out her just-past-chin-length hair and even smudging something soft and smoky above her eyes. And those eyes travel slowly over Lys with the same delight that warms her expression as she moves to join the greenrider, hands extended as if seeking to take both of hers. "You look lovely, Lys, " is said sincerely, "as you always do. Sit wherever you'd like. We can sit in the softer seats, if you'd rather." The sensible ones around the table are hardly suited for the ambiance that's currently present, after all. "And you look beautiful, as always," Lys returns but not idly. She means each word. Her hands slip easily into the goldriders and her fingers seek to lace themselves with hers. She glances back over her shoulder to look at the seating options before turning her face back to the redhead with a smile, "We could sit in the softer seats," she says thoughtfully, "but if we do, I might have to sit in your lap. It's been a very long month." She murmurs this even as she tips her head to seek a kiss. Jocelyn clears her throat faintly, subsequent smile self-conscious but no less pleased for the compliment. "Sweet talker, " she says with dry fondness, but her fingers intertwine easily with Lys's and give an impulsive little squeeze, tugging gently forward. Apparently, a kiss is a most excellent idea in her book as well. It certainly starts tentative and gentle, but soon enough mirrors the fervent expression given by the other weyrling earlier that day, one hand slipping from its grasp so that she can better hold Lys to her with the gentle curve of a palm resting against her back; perhaps it's been a very long month for her, too. "Truth teller," Lys counters in between the first long kiss, and the next much shorter, more chaste one. "You know, we could-" she suggests even while she stays close, "-without intention or expectation for more," that much must be made clear before the suggestion can be made, "take our drinks and go to your bed, or mine and be more comfortable there." Still, she looks towards the chairs, "Or if you'd prefer to start more civilized..." the offer is there, Lys will do as Jocelyn prefers. The suggestion makes Jocelyn's breath catch, her cheeks turning faintly pink. "I'd like that, " she admits, low, leaning in to brush a kiss to Lys's temple before reluctantly taking a few steps away to retrieve both glasses from the table, offering the blonde's to her before seeking to take her hand again. Her next exhale is a little shaky, but her expression is still warm, faintly wondering as she leads the way past that second, heavy curtain, past the private bath into the blue walled bedchamber. Her bed is neatly made in a plain set of linens and soft covers, inviting with two plush pillows at the head. There's less illumination in here, so her first order of business is to light another candle that's been unobtrusively sitting next to the glowbasket atop the chest that sits at the foot of the bed. With that done, she can tilt her head toward the bed in silent invitation for Lys to make herself comfortable, eyes glittering. Lys accepts her glass, but doesn't maintain Jocelyn's hand once she's accepted it and given it a squeeze, slipping hers free to reach for the bottle with a murmur of, "We're not going to want to get up to come get this," wisely before following the goldrider through the familiar-yet-unfamiliar space. "I like what you've done with it," she murmurs, of the room, setting the bottle beside the glow, and then her glass, too. She slips off her shoes, no boots this time to worry about the laces, and then crawls onto the bed, providing Jocelyn-- well, quite the view before she rolls over and smiles prettily, her chin length hair fanning out messily. "I've done very little with it, " Jocelyn says, amused, taking a series of sips from her wine before leaving her glass next to the other, hands curling at her sides as she can't help but to watch Lys get comfortable. Making quick work of her own shoes, her own arranging is a slower affair, hips and legs swinging carefully over as she gets situated. If the cut of the top half of her one-piece happens to be such that the vee affords the younger woman a brief flash of decolletage, particularly as she looks admiringly down at her before lowering herself to recline more fully, well. "I've wondered, " she confesses in a tentative murmur, blushing, "what it would be like to see you here, in this room. With me." "So have I." Lys answers as she rolls onto her stomach so she's close alongside Jocelyn and then pops up on her elbows, resting her chin in her hands with a warm smile as she looks down at the goldrider. "Does it live up to what you imagined?" Then, "If you could celebrate your turn at the helm, with me, any way you wanted, what would we do?" "Imagination can't supply everything, " Jocelyn says softly, reaching up to brush fingertips into Lys's hair, down the side of her face where they linger along her jaw. "I can't imagine with full precision the way the light reflects off of your eyes, or the exact manner in which you're looking at me. The warmth of your skin, or the way it feels to be this close to you and know that you - want me to be." It's so much more, says her expression then, even as she mulls over the question at hand. "I'd - " Well. There's an embarrassed flush that heats her face. "I'd want to take you somewhere special. Hold you close, watch the sun set. Treat you to anything you wanted for dinner that we'd be able to find. And then I'd invite you in for a drink before the evening was over and - cherish you as much as we both wished. I'd want to know what it was like to fall asleep with you and wake up with you being here." It's something of a mumble, by the end. "Then perhaps I'll have to stay here a long time, looking at you just like this, so memory can do what imagination can't," Lys replies with a smile that goes beyond fond. Contrary to her words though, she rocks forward and down to peck the goldrider on the lips before rocking back onto her heels to sit up and then scoot closer. "I can imagine a special place. I can imagine the sun setting there and being held close while we watch. I imagine a dinner with fresh fruit and greens that have been just picked and-- what's your favorite food?" She asks but she doesn't wait in that moment for an answer. "I have a drink," so there's that that doesn't need to be imagined. "And I think that's about where we find what's possible." She looks down at Jocelyn with that tender look of more than affection before she very purposefully and slowly leans forward to kiss her. That kiss, though, is only the start. By the end, there can be little doubt Lys is pleased, both with Jocelyn and herself. She has a glowingly smug smile as she murmurs, "I never knew it could feel like that." "Me either, " mumbles Jocelyn shakily, although she's no doubt referring to what just transpired from a different perspective. There are no more barriers between them now, and it's some minutes before the hiccups in her breathing slow and her shoulders don't quake with the crying she can't hide. "You've made me feel so free, " she whispers between kisses full of gratitude. "You're already so dear to me, but this, " this is so much more. She sighs, arms seeking to snuggle Lys closer to her. "You must know how I feel, sweet one." The endearment is honest - and an easy one to give while her self-control is still as scattered as their clothing. Lys' arms echo Jocelyn's wants. Snuggling close, the blonde curls to rest her head against the goldrider's breast, listening to the beat of her heart for some moments. "I love you," she says the three words quietly, but not, it must be said in the heat of the moment. "Loving anyone makes me so afraid." And yet her heart betrays her, makes her vulnerable, makes them both so. Those three, little words cause Jocelyn's arms to tighten about Lys, a low, shaky exhale puffing out as she nestles her nose into what's nearest of the greenrider - hair, temple, neck, whatever is easiest to reach. "It's a scary feeling, " she agrees gently, shifting so that she can carefully try to wrap a leg about the other woman and keep them in a loving tangle of limbs. It's as close as they can get without being telepaths themselves. More quietly, but no less meaningfully: "I love you, too." And perhaps she already knows that, but it apparently must be said. In this moment, there's nowhere Lys would rather be, but it doesn't stop her thoughts from rolling through less pleasant things. She snuggles as close as any might be and is silent, holding whatever thoughts would spoil this moment back from finding life in her breath and on her tongue in this moment. Why spoil it for both of them? Even with worries to rattle Lys' mental cage, it shouldn't take long for her to drop off. It's longer before the blonde wakes with a silent scream, a sharp jerk of her body, eyes wildly searching and not seeing, tears streaking down her face. Her breath comes too shallowly and Evyth wakes on her own ledge. Jocelyn has, no doubt, had much on her mind since long before this evening; perhaps it's why she was so adamant to Lys that if anything happened between them, it wouldn't just be two friends helping one another out, or trying a scenario they might have to face in the future. Surely her brain is busily enumerating the ways that this will continue to change both of them as her breathing begins to slow, but she invests her energies instead into staying awake long enough to watch Lys fall asleep, gently shifting them both after a time so that they're both getting the advantages of pillow and blankets, nudging a top cover over them lightly before she, too, eventually succumbs to the pull of slumber. That sharp jerk wakes the redhead when it comes, however, and she tenses awake to take in the image of terrified Lys with eyes rounding in concern. "Lys?" Voice heavy and throat dry from sleep, she swallows and tries again. "You're safe. We have you." Outside, Aidavanth stirs, too, and reaches drowsily toward Evyth after taking stock of Jocelyn's senses. "The sky--" It's choked words, hard to get out without the breath. Lys' eyes search the ceiling, her fingers curled hard into the blanket. Evyth-- she hasn't enough focus to speak to Aidavanth and Lys at once, not while she's gathering herself to leap from her ledge, to fly down to the gold's weyr. What she can do, however, is slip the veil of privacy that typically shrouds her interactions with her lifemate, she can let Aidavanth hear her as she, without panic or alarm herself, cleverly scoops up Lys' thoughts like so many scattered clothes: Lys' dirty laundry. Well, mental laundry. It happens too fast for much of it to be identified as it's tossed into Evyth's mental basket. « It's alright, Lys. » It's soothing, understanding. « Just another dream. » Another. So many that have come before. So many worse before Evyth. « You're with Jocelyn. The sky isn't falling. Take deep breaths. » She's patient. This takes patience. The most she manages to express to the gold is a feeling of ease: don't worry. It will be okay. "Lys, " Jocelyn repeats gently, struggling to sit up a little so that she's less snuggled up to her and more lying next to her. What Evyth shares with Aidavanth, the queen shares with her own rider, and the redhead carefully swings down from the bed so that she can pad into the bathing room and return moments later with glows that aren't quite as dim; both the candle and the basket are otherwise dark with the passage of some time. With faint illumination restored to the room, she settles back onto the mattress, tugging the nearest corner of blanket toward her more for warmth than modesty as she tentatively moves to cover one of the blonde's hands with one of her own. "We're both safe, " she repeats steadily. In the time that it takes for Jocelyn to go and return Lys has managed to calm her breathing and the tears no longer fall, though the evidence lingers on her cheeks as her hands haven't managed to let go of the blanket. She stares at nothing until Jocelyn's voice, her look the far away of being with Evyth despite the fact that the green hasn't yet made it down to the ledge as yet. There's a mumble from the young woman, "Thread falls. Sky doesn't. Sky doesn't." The hand beneath Jocelyn's manages to release the blanket but trembles. "Sorry," she offers quietly, seeing the goldrider now, certainly. "I'm sorry." "It doesn't, " Jocelyn echoes, blue eyes searching the other's face even as she slips her fingers beneath Lys's palm, reaching with her free hand to wipe gently at those wet tracks on her cheeks with a thumb. "You've nothing to be sorry for, " she insists then, voice still husky. "The cave-in, " she guesses in a soft prompt, brow furrowing. "Would - do you want some water? To sit in the doorway for when Evyth gets here? Would you like me to draw you a bath?" It's an awkward tumble of words to try to express that she doesn't exactly know how to help, only that she wants to. And that it's okay that this happened here, now, with her. "The cave-in," Lys confirms with a heavy breath. "Just need to breathe." The blonde worries her lower lip as she does. "Better not," she murmurs, but it might be to more than just to Jocelyn. "Evy shouldn't come here at this time of night. I've told her to go back." Her brow furrows, rethinking as yet more wakeful thoughts assert themselves, "Unless you want me to go? I can meet her in the bowl," she's already thinking down the line, the ramifications, who might see her, who might put it together and more. Jocelyn's still frowning, but she doesn't withdraw her hand, doesn't move away. "It isn't entirely inconceivable that you could have fallen asleep here and I didn't have the heart to disturb you, " she grouses, since that's exactly what happened minus some circumstantial details. More quietly, "I don't want you to go. Stay with me - if you'd like to, that is. I'll understand if you'd find your own bed more comforting after a nightmare." "Not entirely," Lys allows with a certain affection helping bring color back to her cheeks. "A bath," she belatedly decides. "Can we? I'd like that. It'd help take my mind off things. Put it on pleasant things." She moves her no longer trembling hand to feather a caress across Jocelyn's forearm. "Then we'll sleep more. We can't be completely exhausted tomorrow." Even if neither of them is going to be in a role of special leadership in the month to come. "A bath, " Jocelyn agrees, leaning over to press a kiss to Lys's temple. "Sounds like just the thing to soothe us both back to sleep." Or tire them out again so that they sleep all the better, as such things can sometimes tend to do. At any rate, she reluctantly pulls her hand away so that she can head to the bathing room, drawing a swirl of warm water and adding something sweetly-scented to it that encourages relaxation. Careful to lay out a set of clean towels, she climbs in with a small yawn, hands extending after in silent invitation. There's certainly room enough for them to sit together - especially if one ends up in the other's lap. There's a lot of watching involved in this bath prep. Where Lys might normally be proactive with her help, now, she stands in the doorway watching the goldrider make the preparations. Once Jocelyn's in the bath, Lys comes and leans to drop a kiss onto her forehead before joining her. It's certainly not the sort of bath one takes when one is alone, but nothing so racy as to require them to stay up a great deal longer. Eventually, there's her reluctant murmur. "Let's sleep, love," and her quick exit from the bath and efficient drying enough to tell that as her true intention. The languid way that Jocelyn participates in the bathing suggests that she could certainly wish to be a very attentive, very pleasing bathing partner for Lys if she were only more awake. As it is, she's content to just stay close and make a drowsy sort of noise in agreement by the time the other weyrling suggests that they go back to bed. Both towels are carefully secured to hooks before she completely leaves the warmer room behind to retrieve what remains of their clothing from the bed, neatly folding each garment in such a way that it more easily drapes over a hanger in her armoire. She's quick to turn down the covers, nudge the glowbasket shut once more and - oops, there's another yawn to stifle. "I like this, " is her sleepy mumble as she curls back up, this time under the linens. "Having you here. Holding you." She seems to have (quickly) developed a preference for falling asleep while holding Lys close, as that's just what she seeks to do once she's comfortably settled. Lys' "Mm," is a noise that suggests agreement, but in truth, the blonde is already mostly asleep. At least there won't be more dreams to disturb the sleepers til dawn when a dragon wake up is helpfully provided early enough that Lys can give the goldrider a couple of kisses before dressing quickly and heading up to her own weyr to get properly ready for the day. |
Leave A Comment