Logs:Complicated (Mis)Communication
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| RL Date: 2 April, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Rasavyth, Azaylia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A surprise visit goes awry. Hraedhyth scares Rasavyth with a little toughlove, a confused Azaylia is insulted and K'zin tries to come to an understanding while throwing his hormones around. It's messy. |
| Where: Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Barnabas/Mentions, D'kan/Mentions, Hana/Mentions, Leova/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, N'ky/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: The spambug bit us both pretty hard. x.x |
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| Azaylia and Hraedhyth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Accessed via a narrow staircase from the Weyrleader's Complex, or from the broad, sunny ledge beyond, this weyr was clearly designed to be for one of the weyr's junior queens. Spacious, but not extravagant, it boasts a well-sized outer room, narrowing in front the well-sized dragon couch and ledge beyond. Much of this main room has been turned over to a couch and several chairs, which circle the hearth and the blue rug set down in front of it. There's a low table here, too, set in the middle of that rug. A tack-cupboard stands tidily behind the couch, keeping out of sight a rider's paraphernalia. Three low steps lead up onto a peculiar little landing, just large enough for the brand new desk and set of shelves that have been placed there. Here, too, there are definite pointers to the lived-in state of the weyr: the desk could in no way be described as tidy. Behind the desk, a narrow passage leads in an inner set of chambers, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area. A decent-sized bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter. There's a nightstand on either side, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf to hold toiletries. Unusually, the walls, ceiling and floor of this weyr have all been whitewashed thickly, covering the natural stone. The hearth is brand new, too, as are most of the built-in fittings, as though they have recently needed to be replaced. "I told you, you should've stayed in the bowl." Rasavyth normally has manners. He normally would have extended a polite request to Hraedhyth to enter her domain. But he also normally (were he full-grown) have entered from the bowl ledge, not the narrow stair-case, where K'zin's voice is coming from. There's also a mental feel there: it's like fire crackers, sparkling abruptly and snapping to another point in space. That would be Rasavyth as he shimmies himself through one of the narrowest sections, snorting triumphantly when he manages to make it through. "Fine. But when you get stuck on the way out because you've grown, don't say I didn't warn you." That's what heralds K'zin's entrance into the weyr. He stops short, just inside the door, and a slender bronze head is poking through the negative space between shoulder and door frame to look around curiously. One hand rises to push the muzzle back into the shadow of the staircase. "Zay?" is called tentatively as eyes bounce around. Though it's common knowledge that Azaylia's metaphorical door is always open, it isn't as if the weyrwoman is always expecting company. It's obvious in the casual way she's tucked into a heavy dip in her couch, likely Bones' doing. Her back is propped up by the armrest, clipboard balanced against her bent knees, wearing a dress that he likely hasn't seen and that certain fashionable minds would not approve of. It's well loved, heavily patched, and more fitting of the farmgirl she was, rather than the goldrider she is. "K'zin?" The woman looks startled, peering over her paperwork at the familiar voice and the flash of bronze hide. "Rasavyth?" Startled amusement coaxes her to stand, and once the weyrling appears he will be greeted with a bewildered, though welcoming smile. From Hraedhyth's wallow, her massive head eases into view, staring with much of the same confusion whirling in her eyes. Oh, if only dragons could arch their eyeridges. "Hi." It's sweetly awkward. K'zin rocking back on his heels, hands going behind his back. "I thought- you'd said- we wanted to visit and we had some time." He glances over his shoulder briefly to where bronze nose is once more peeking out from the shadows. "He was going to ask ahead, but we were on our way, and then he started to get stuck, and had to wiggle a lot, and--" He's blushing a bit now from embarrassment. The bronze nose vanishes only long enough for K'zin to stumble forward (probably thanks to help from behind) and he steps off to one side so Rasavyth can, now back on all fours, wiggle his way in through the opening. It's not so tight that it should be of immediate concern about his ability to exit, but it's certainly an indication that this will be a one-time entrance and exit for him as he'll likely be too large by tomorrow. Rasavyth warbles pleasantly now that he's not being squished. "Do you have time? Are you busy? We can go?" All of these are with the upward lilt of questions as the pair hangs by the entryway. Paperwork is momentarily forgotten, placed on the low table next to the couch where there are the remains of a hearty lunch and tea. Azaylia places her hands over her mouth, fingertips meeting above her nose, doing her best to stifle her laughter as she peers over at the two. "Is he really..?" This is a first for the goldrider, to be sure. When K'zin stumbles, she's moving swiftly on bare feet as if to catch him, reaching the pair after he's gone and straightened up. "Rasavyth!" No hiding that delight, the answer to his warble tainted with a bit of concern. "If you got stuck, I don't know what I'd do." Find a way to blame herself, most likely. Her hands reach for the bronze's jaw, giving that previously peeking nose a stroke before she's smiling brightly at K'zin. "No, stay. Please. I'm so glad you decided to stop by. It's a wonderful surprise." Hraedhyth's head tilts, her own amusement escaping in a guttural huff from where the bulk of her is curled up in her wallow. For now, it doesn't seem as though Szadath is present. "You'd call the MineCrafters. My dad would hear about it, and he would make sure not to send anyone. Then we'd be stuck with a bronze in a tunnel." K'zin eyes the bronze a moment then flicks his gaze back to Azaylia. "Sorry, that was supposed to be funny, but it came out not. I keep trying to make jokes out of my relationship with my dad, but it falls the wrong side of the comedy line, I think." It doesn't keep him from trying though. It's not a topic he lingers on as Rasavyth moves his head for her to touch it more easily. K'zin can be seen to shiver. "Um, Zay? Remember how I said you could touch him and he wouldn't-- on purpose? Maybe let's keep the touching limited since you want to follow the rules?" Implying what? That he does not? "It'd only be slightly less mortifying but certainly more frustrating here. If that happened again." Once Ras has gotten enough of a stroke in to make his rider nervous, he's sauntering off across the weyr to approach the edge of Hraedhyth's couch, looking around the weyr with interest. At the edge of the couch, he stops to examine the large bone trophies about. K'zin's eyes follow the bronze and touch on the trophies before turning his attention back to Azaylia with a sheepish smile. "How are you?" No denying the joke falls a bit flat, weighing on Azaylia's expression as she keeps her eyes on the weyrling, hands on his bronze. "If you feel that it helps, keep trying? It was kind of funny." Brown eyes catch his shiver, fingers tensing even as her touch turns firm, insistent. It's only after he speaks that the calm intensity breaks, nervous smile banishing that predatory fire, "O-oh. Of course. I'm sorry, I... shouldn't be making it harder for you." Innuendo goes unnoticed as she moves out of the inquisitive dragonet's way, a much more innocent touch resting on the weyrling's upper arm. "I know the rules seem awful right now. I'm proud of you, though. For being such a good boy." Hraedhyth's still looking over her shoulder, watching her progeny's approach with a pleased rumble. Limbs stretch and knead, knocking a large femur away, leaving some room next to her in silent invitation. "Please, come in. I'm... better?" Azaylia sounds unsure. "I'm fine. Hana sent up a lovely lunch earlier. There's some pastries left, if you'd like." Fingers grip his sleeve, giving a tug in order to lead him further inside. K'zin makes a face. His nose and lips pinch briefly before the nose, at least, resumes its usual relaxed state. His lips are still tense. What did he make the face at? Her pride. He clears his throat, "Can I ask, are we speaking as Zay and Waki or as Azaylia and K'zin?" Beat. "What I mean, is if I say things, are you going to tell the weyrlingmasters and get me trouble?" Indicating that perhaps she shouldn't be so proud of him. He resists the tug on his sleeve, but only because this is of importance, since she might not want him there depending on what he might say next. Rasavyth, in the meantime, seems the opposite of his lifemate: calm, and assured. The invitation is accepted as he navigates through bone to climb into the couch. Where, before, he kept a tiny amount of distance between himself and the much large gold, this time he boldly nestles up against her (after exploring the couch to determine the most luxurious spot), crooning softly to the larger dragon as he settles. Uncertainty has Azaylia's head tilting, lips stretched in good natured confusion, "Aren't those, we, the same people?" It's meant to be a tease, despite the faint pinch to her brow as he resists. "I..." The weyrwoman straightens, clearly caught off guard by the question. Not that it takes her long to answer, "That depends." Given that she's the one who caught and escorted N'ky and Cailluneth from the lower caverns, "I can't play favorites. That wouldn't be right." She's searching his face, curiosity only lightly touched with suspicion, her faith in the weyrling holding all else at bay. Hraedhyth is far more interested in the exchange happening within the weyr, attention stolen away by the surprisingly cuddly Rasavyth. Her low croon can be easily mistaken for a snarl, though one of pleasure as she answers the bold bronze. The gold shifts, (oh so carefully!) so that he might be able to lean against her, cradling him even as her head turns back towards their lifemates. "We are," K'zin confirms, and then muddles matters by saying, "And we aren't." He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Zay. I shouldn't have come. You were right about this being-- too complicated when you're my boss' boss." His expression is pained as he reaches to take one of her hands. "I want to be open and honest with you, about everything, but I want to be open and honest with you because you're someone I like and would like to kiss, not because you're my leader." Shouldn't there be no difference? "In this case, being honest with you, would get me in trouble. If it were just about me, I'd get in trouble and take my punishment because being honest with you is more important to me than getting in trouble. But it's not. And I can't do that." He can't help but sigh again, dropping his hold on her hand. "Maybe-- and I know you haven't been waiting for me or anything; I heard one of the brownriders talking," There's some degree of disappointment in his voice for that, "But maybe it would be easier if we just-- didn't spend time together or talk much until the rules are different. Maybe until the end of weyrlinghood." He's frowning. Voice and face tell that he's not happy about the idea, but possibly starting to resign himself to it. To Hraedhyth, Rasavyth's body shifts as she does, snuggling up. His shimmery transparent touch is there, and then moments later it's a curtain of bone which he draws apart as he greets her with his purring tenor, « Your home is lovely. » He includes flashes of the bones, those painted and those not, the couch, the gold herself, as all the things he likes best about it. "I don't... understand." Half-truth is spoken before Azaylia lets all of the pieces fall into place, before she's given herself a chance to turn over his words. "Why does my being weyrwoman have to do with..? K'zin, I would feel this way even if I rode any other color." She doesn't pull away from his hand, her own grip perhaps tighter than it needs to be. "The rules of weyrlinghood, and the lessons you learn are important." She feels the need to stress it, catching that he and perhaps another in his class have broken a rule. That much is clear. The rest, she answers with a mix of confusion and concern, "Which brownrider? I don't... If that upsets you, you can tell me? I don't want to..." Calm words falter in the face of his resignation, not bothering to hide her hurt. "K'zin." She doesn't raise her voice, authority heard through her distress, "If you want to break the rules? Put another weyrling in danger? It sounds like you're going to, no matter what I say." Her face is set, edges stern, "If this makes it easier for you, fine." Not that it's fine, not really. Only then does she soften, if slightly. "It's not what I want. I like spending time with you. But I'd rather you ignore me than watch you go back on your word." The adults are talking. Hraedhyth's drums have quickened with her rider's upset, drowning out Rasavyth's subtle compliment. Distracted, a tendril of smoke curls around him in a half-embrace, « Thank you. » Though her gaze has sped up, faceted eyes are untouched by ruby specks... for now. « I am glad you are here. » The bronze, if not his weyrling with his confusing, odd words. (Hraedhyth to Rasavyth) K'zin shifts his footing, looking ill at ease. "You're right. It doesn't have to do with you being a weyrwoman." That makes it harder. It's easier to blame it on the rank and responsibility. "You say you can't play favorites, but our relationship to one another is different than the relationship you have with the other weyrlings." There's a pause. "As far as I know." That is added with slight grimace. "That makes it so that things I wouldn't mention to say, Aishani, are things I would mention to you. I promise I'm not putting anyone in danger. Everyone is okay." As far as he knows. "The part that upsets me is that you didn't bother to tell me yourself that you-- have other interests. It's fine, I just wished it'd been a conversation we had, and not one I overheard. Because I was kind of saving myself," Out of necessity of weyrlinghood. "It just feels like we ended up on different pages as a result." His eyes closed, "But I can't have you proud of me when I did break my word. You can get me in trouble for it if you need to. And this isn't how I wanted to talk about it with you." But it's how things are shaking down. To Hraedhyth, Rasavyth's interest in the gold's interest can't be helped. His shimmers sparkle over her smoke as he reflects the tendrils. His reach for the gold's mind comfortingly. « He does not mean to cause your Azaylia distress. He is trying, » And the bronze's tenor is approving, « to be honest and communicate with her. He cares for her and what she thinks of him. But he is himself, and I am me. That cannot be helped. » As though this should explain part of the problem. Azaylia is selfish in the time she takes to think, searching the air in front of her, pensive. Lips part and inhale is telling, trapped in the silence once again as her mouth closes and she reconsiders. It's enough to let that initial fire die, knuckle guarding her closed lips until she's finally ready, admitting with a gentle nod. "You're right. I care for all of the weyrlings," In the same way she cares for everyone. "But I am closest to you. And that does make things different." Her voice remains soft this time, whispery soprano thick with understanding, "And I should have mentioned that I'm... well I'm me. That was my fault, thinking that a sweet boy like you wouldn't worry yourself with me for long." The words may be self deprecating, but her tone is simple and honest, as is the weak smile she aims up at him. "But I don't have interests. They usually just... happen, and I can't say that I'm friends with most of the men I've been with." The weyrwoman's calm is breached by a moment of panic, guilt upsetting her features, "I hadn't realized you were... If it's that you can't forgive me, I understand?" This time her hand reaches for his, an echo of her earlier tug given, though this time it isn't as demanding. "We have a chance to talk about this now, if you'd like? About everything." There's quiet hope, though her hand pulls away before becoming too insistent. It's uncertain if Hraedhyth is capable of wry amusement, but certainly the gold finds his attempt to comfort endearing. « He is not trying hard enough, if he puts you at risk. » There's a sudden snap of jaws, dam's silent reprimand: Even if you don't think you are. Nothing malicious behind it, bared fangs disappearing within the smoke and flame quickly after she's made her point. Drums are less ominous, rumbles falling to steady, more controlled beats, « Honesty is best. » The queen shares Rasavyth's approval, « We would not have you changed. We care. » Perhaps too much, not that the gold will admit this to be a fault. (Hraedhyth to Rasavyth) This time the tug prompts something else. If asked for his motives later, K'zin would only be able to defend the action by saying that it felt right. The tugged hand tugs back, drawing Azaylia into a fairly sudden embrace. His arms, and whole body really, is strong as they squeeze her to him. It's not a long embrace, not long enough to become exceptionally inappropriate, just a little inappropriate (in that he's a weyrling and it's not a bro-hug). "Zay, I'm not upset with you. I wish we'd talked, but you don't owe me anything. I just didn't know to ask-- to talk about it." Once he's said that softly in her ear, his arms are releasing her. "We are friends. Right? So this is different anyway. From some of the other-- well, if not interests, what do you want me to call them? Liaisons? Lovers?" He gets sidetracked on terminology. "Maybe I'm not as sweet as you thought." He is, but perhaps not in the same ways as she anticipated. To Hraedhyth, Rasavyth's smoky tendrils jump back, curling into themselves, as though the idea that K'zin would put him in danger offends him. « He would never. Not my K'zin. » His mind is certain, despite her unspoken reprimand. He shifts on the couch, wings twitching. « I am well. There was no danger. » There was some danger. He sounds convincing though! « I am different than other dragons. I am not young in many of the ways the others are. Neither is she. » Confirming that, yes, there was another weyrling involved. Squeak. The startled sound makes a comeback, arms wrapped around his broad torso, fingers curled along the back of his shoulders. Hardly one to shy away from the physical, Azaylia returns the squeeze so long as she's sure that's all that will come of it. K'zin's soft words have her holding him even tighter, relief that he's at least not angry with her. After he lets go, her hands keep to his shoulders, sliding to rest on the front of them as she eases back enough to look up at his face. "I am upset." Not that she sounds it, "And we are friends. And friends... don't lie to each other." Familiar words with familiar hurt, fingers squeezing his shoulders before pulling away, almost afraid she might inure him. "I'm not telling you these things to be mean, or cruel, or to string you along. I broke the rules when I was an Apprentice. It cost me... it almost cost me my home. You have so much more at stake, now." Her eyes glance sideways, head not quite turning to the couch where Rasavyth is. Terminology is a bit easier for her, "Ah... I used to just call them visitors." There's a step back to fully untangle from him, hands folded in front of her as the goldrider gives a steadying sigh, "If you have a question, K'zin. Ask. You need to trust me." As a friend, though there is some weight of leadership behind her words. To Rasavyth, Hraedhyth is pleased by the bronze's certainty, and it could be that he has succeeded in his attempt to comfort after all. And then suddenly, it dissipates, fire burning too hotly to produce any smoke. « She. » A deep rumble, one that cuts through what may sound convincing, but actually isn't. He'll be able to feel the tension in her tawny form, « Have you learned all that there is? Confidence unearned... » Drums nearly drown out her words, contralto lost in a primal growl. « ...leads to death. » The heat grows stifling, dam's intense concern and gold's influence demanding to know. Who. "I'm sorry you're upset. That I've upset you." Beat. "How have I?" K'zin's expression is serious and his tone sincere, not sure exactly what part of what he said did the job. "I didn't lie to you. Or didn't know I was lying. It's like I said. I was sort of saving myself-- not thinking about other girls - and then I found out about your -- visitor... visitors." He corrects himself now that she's said the plural. "I was frustrated." Does this seem to be a pattern? Get frustrated, scared, whatever, kiss another girl? It does seem to be. "I ended up in a situation and I broke the rule." At least he doesn't go into detail this time. "It helped with my headache. Just like breaking another rule did." He sighs, "I don't like breaking rules... I mean, it's exciting, but I don't like not being that same guy that follows the rules, but it's like-- it's like the headaches only go away when I'm doing something exciting, or really distracting." Adrenaline cure? Maybe. "I don't have a question. I just want to be able to talk to you openly without getting anyone else in trouble." The shimmering ooze that was so cleverly mimicking the gold abruptly becomes just what it is: transparent shimmering ooze. It begins to blister in the face of the heat from her mind. Rasavyth's distress is immediate. His tenor is high-pitched and suddenly grating, no longer smooth as he becomes fearful of the strength of her response. « No! No! I have not learned everything! But I have learned enough to ask questions and care for her well-being! » Her influence cannot be denied but it is met with a degree of resistance. He is influenced enough that the sensation creaky doors and thin-paned windows, with the rattatatting of branches on shut windows, and the creepy-crawling of gossamer spinners is shared (unwillingly) in the her, but no name. That much is his resistance, stronger than it should be, for sure, for a baby dragon. It takes all he's got, and perhaps the resistance is the true reason for his distress; any additional force to her influence will earn her a name. (Rasavyth to Hraedhyth) There's success in keeping calm, in being reasonable, and Azaylia once again is choosing her words carefully. "If that's really what you want, then you need to stop." Not a snap, but there is some heat behind it, bleeding from the crimson-tinted eyes behind her. Is the weyrwoman even properly aware? "I'm upset, because it didn't seem like you were taking weyrlinghood seriously. It's not fair, to pick and choose which rules apply to you. And if you were N'ky, or D'kan, or any of the others, I'd be saying the same thing." The weyrwoman catches herself, smoothing over words that have become emphatic, doing her best not to lecture. More than she has, at least. With pursed lips, her eyes dart about with the speed of her thoughts, body tensing as her head jerks over to the pair of dragons. "Hraedhyth." This is a snap, quiet but sharp. Some of that intensity is dulled, but the glance she sends the weyrling's way is all too knowing for what little Rasavyth has revealed. " Once." It pains her to say it, clearly displeased with herself, "I'll ignore the broken rules this time. Because w... because we're friends. I won't do it again." Her strain carries something of a plea: don't put her in this position again. "Or I will have to report both of you." She doesn't mean Rasavyth. To Rasavyth, Hraedhyth's intensity is felt in both affection, or in this case, reprimand. She doesn't pull back, but neither does the gold advance on the distressed bronze, on the resistance he offers. Like a true predator, she merely waits. What he offers is meager, or would be if she didn't have some familiarity with her progeny-- even those who tend to keep to themselves. Rasavyth is allowed his rebellion, queen's heat slowly beginning to ease off. It doesn't take long, not even a fraction of the force usually kept far and away from the developing minds. « You are clever. » Not an apology, but a soothing balm of coarse fur for what she feels was necessary. « But do not let it blind you. » A murmur, offering advice, accepting that he may not be terribly receptive. It is what it is. K'zin can't help but gawk at Azaylia for a moment. When his words come, it is veiled rage (no raise in volume, just intensity in droves), each word holding significance singularly and then even greater when strung togehter, "Not taking weyrlinghood seriously?" The fact that she would accuse him of such goes over very poorly indeed. "What kind of idiot do you think I am? Who on the sharding surface of Pern could Impress and then not take weyrlinghood seriously?" He demands, anger finding cracks in his resolve to stay calm and leaking into the question. Then Rasavyth, too, is in distress and he's running towards the couch - blind to the human interaction he was just engaged in. It's actually a little impressive in a whole messed up situation kind of way as he hurdles and dodges pieces of furniture for the most direct path. Rasavyth is scrabbling against cushions to crawl out of the deep couch and the pair meet at its edge, his arms wrapping protectively about his lifemate, whose height now exceeds his own. The embrace is more telling than just about anything that's ever been seen between bronze and boy that their connection does indeed run deep, and that is not a thing to ever be questioned. It's a long silent moment before boy breaks away from beast and he turns, expression stony now, anger abated, apparently. "We should go. I'll report myself to the Weyrlingmaster for whatever punishment is waiting." So she won't need to, even though she's just given him a pass. As long as the queen is not demanding him to stay, Rasavyth's wall builds. It is a tall wall, a wall that seems to stretch forever. Invisible but strong, the bugs of his brain latch together to become chains and then blocks, transparent, but solid. (Rasavyth to Hraedhyth) Azaylia watches, far calmer than one would expect, but then it isn't her dragon who's upset. Not anymore. Hraedhyth remains still and silent as the bronze retreats, watching with only the speed of her gaze to give away the fact that she's upset. Rather than offer up a counter, the weyrwoman slowly picks her way across the weyr to stop near the two. "I'm sorry." For what it's worth, is what her quiet tone means to convey. "I won't... you were right from the start. It'll be easier on you, on both of you, if we kept our distance." It's when she attempts to smile that betrays her, lips trembling until they're forced flat. The weyrwoman won't stay in their way, turning to gather up the papers she was working on and placing them into the crook of her arm. To Rasavyth, Hraedhyth leaves well enough alone. An echo of her rider, the gold doesn't withdraw her comforting warmth but neither does she aim to push past territories where she is not wanted. On the other side of the wall, across her plains, those flames act as a beacon should he choose to seek her out. He is always welcome. The pair move as one back towards the narrow passage. There seems to be some silent exchange between the pair as they go, K'zin keeping one hand on Rasavyth's neck. As they begin to pass where the goldrider stands, they stop. K'zin looks to the woman for a long moment before speaking. "Friends ask, Azaylia. You weren't even going to have to ask. I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you. I didn't want her in trouble for my actions." Nevermind that she was complicit. "I came here to tell you. Because I wanted us to be honest with each other. Open and honest communication. But you said I was like everyone else -- and you've Impressed. I'd have expected that accusation of not taking this whole crazy thing seriously from a non-rider. But how does anyone ignore this and what it means?" The gesture to Rasavyth represents the invisible bond. "I would never put him in danger. I would never put any of them in danger. What kind of person do you think I am?" This whole speech is delivered calmly, though there is constrained pain that shows when he emphasizes certain words. The question, when it comes out, shows the hurt in his eyes. "I'm a good person, Zay. Maybe with all the insane stuff that's been happening you forget that those exist. Some of us are going crazy in the barracks. I know the rules are important. I have headaches all the time. Nothing helps, except things that break the rules. Extra drinks. Innocent kisses." Innocent, but still exciting. "Maybe that's no excuse, but I can't live with this kind of pounding in my head, all the time." It's turned from monologue to confession now as he lingers. "I wanted to come here, to tell you all of this. Because you're my friend." He looks around, expression now helpless, silently asking without saying: 'But what can be done now?' Azaylia glances up, only when the bronze doesn't quite make it past. She straightens, sounding tired. Resigned, "You didn't sound as if you were going to tell me. If protecting her was so important to you, even if I think it's wrong, I wasn't going to force you." Hreadhyth, however, has no such qualms. When he motions to Rasavyth, to the bond he represents, there's some success to her smile. It's short lived, "I know you're a good person. It's why I like you, why I was so happy you Impressed." She's back to picking up her papers, the actions still slow while her arms carry none of the tension they were moments ago. When he mentions his headaches once more, she stiffens. "Are they really that bad?" Sympathy is offered all too quickly, despite their previous misunderstandings. "I didn't mean to upset you. And neither did Hraedhyth. Maybe I am still... sensitive about everything that has happened. I feel like I have to be hard on myself, or I'll never be good enough for this Weyr." Her own confession, an easy one to make. She's accepted her faults, " I've made a lot of mistakes that might have kept all of this from happening." A reason, though never an excuse, for her overprotective nature. Her brown gaze softens, sliding to the bronze, "Is Rasavyth alright?" "Zay, Sabella is my friend. I want to protect her the way I'd want to protect you, the way that I wouldn't go around telling everyone that we kissed in the galleries before Hatching, because it might reflect in a way you wouldn't like it to, even though it shouldn't." See? He'd do the same for her. "If you want to punish me, then punish me. If we weren't-- the way we were? are? I wouldn't have even brought it up, but the fact is that I came here to be honest with you, and open, and communicate." He sighs, letting his hand drop away from Rasavyth. "Being hard on yourself, that's not a bad thing. But everyone has things that are personal, that aren't any of the Weyr's business, even weyrwomen. This-" He gestures between himself and her this time. "This is personal. I don't want you to treat me any differently than any other weyrling out there, and if you catch me kissing someone, then punish me. If I come to you as a friend to talk to you about our friendship, about the friendships I have with others that might impact ours, that has to be treated differently, or I can't ever be honest with you. I can't ever trust that you're hearing me as someone you might take to bed with you, and not someone you're just trying to keep on the straight and narrow lest the Weyr decide that letting a single rule break slide makes you unworthy." When he puts it that way, it does sound a little ridiculous. "He will be." He looks over to Hraedhyth. "I don't mean any disrespect to you, Azaylia, but if she had asked politely, Ras probably would have just told her because he wouldn't want her concerned for Ghislaith. She doesn't need to force things out of them without at least asking first. It's not-- right." Says the boy breaking the weyrling rules. Just for a moment, her lips purse and pale, thin with mild restraint as Azaylia allows him his say. "You told me you were an adult, and you'd like to be talked to like one." Calm to the point of cool, she takes a moment to walk her work up the short flight to her desk, placing the stack down. "I'm willing to accept that I've made mistakes, K'zin. And I understand that I've done things to upset you. But right now it feels like you're scolding me?" Lilt is there, a buffer just in case this is another misunderstanding waiting to happen. Because of that caution, there's no anger or accusation in what she says. "I do think it's best if you report to the Weyrlingmasters, but because you're a good person. And it's the right thing to do." Her descent from the stairs is slow, "Hraedhyth is very... forceful. We understand he's different, but so is she. She'll know better, next time." Even adult dragons don't know everything, and she is only a first time dam. "I can't say that I agree with everything you've said, but I respect your opinions." Her path brings her in front of the pair, once again keeping that careful distance. "I want you to be able to come to me, friend or weyrwoman. I can't promise that I can always separate the two... but we'll talk about it." Goldriders rarely have such luxuries. "You're an adult too." K'zin feels the need to point out. "Maybe part of the problem is that you expect me, expect the Weyr, expect others to scold you. That's what children do. They expect that. Not adults." Some anyway. K'zin shifts, turning to face her as she steps in front of them. "I'm not scolding you." His tone is firm. "I'm just telling you how I feel about how things need to be between us for them to work, for me. Then, you tell me how they need to be for them to work for you, and we find something that makes us both happy, or we don't." There's a pause, "I was maybe scolding a little because of what Hraedhyth did." He admits to that one. "It wasn't okay." He doesn't know how to describe the feelings of violation and betrayal being shared to him. Rasavyth's eyes are still swiftly whirling in sickening shades of red and yellow, though there're tinges of blue and green that is his calm returning. "I want to talk. I always want to be able to talk. But I need to know I can trust you, that telling you things won't end up with people or dragons getting hurt." A glance goes to Ras, and thoughts likely turn to Sabs and Ghis also. Azaylia's hands swiftly find her hips, looking stunned for what K'zin has to say. "No." She's certain in this, hurt pushed aside to make a point, "I don't. And I find it... really very insulting that you'd think that." Still bewildered, the weyrwoman finds it hard to smooth her brow, "I think this is more complicated than it needs to be." The older woman certainly sounds it, weary in the face of a persistent teenager. "I'm glad that you like me, but I don't know if I've had meetings with leadership as..." She can't find the proper word, lips quirking in amusement because of it. In defense of her lifemate, "Hraedhyth wouldn't hurt him, and she's sorry she scared him." His last has her looking as if she's been struck, arms dropping to her sides in an echo of that earlier shock. "If you don't trust me, us, not to hurt... I can't imagine how you see me." Simply said, otherwise at a loss for words. "I said maybe." K'zin tries to stress as he finds himself tasting foot instead of being congratulated on saying something he obviously hoped might be insightful given her earlier words about how she feels regarding herself not being good enough for the Weyr if certain conditions aren't met. "I was wrong. I'm sorry. It was a stupid idea." He sounds sincere in his apology. "I'm sorry. For that and for sounding like I was scolding you. I didn't mean to be." He chews his lower lip. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to deal with me. I guess the trouble is I want to date and kiss you, not your big knot." He rubs his hands across his face now, realizing there's further apology to be made. He does not apologize for the dragon interaction and what he said about it, but he does for the words about trust. "I didn't mean to imply that I don't trust you, Zay. I do. I trust you to be you. To want to follow the rules and like you said to me, not play favorites. But I can't lie to you. I can't just omit the truth." He says this in a way that might suggest it's been suggested to him as an option. "I see you as strong, kind, thoughtful, impressive, but someone who likes to follow the rules and mightn't let a break slide just because it hurt no one in the end." Clearly he's floundering a little; in too deep. "You..." Azaylia can't keep her voice steady, hand reaching up to splay fingers over half of her befuddled face. She's nowhere near tears, quiet the opposite in fact. Words tremble as they slip from her quirked lips, "You are... K'zin. Sometimes you sound like you think you know it all, and then the next moment you're that sweet boy all over again. It's exhausting." What else can she do but laugh? It certainly isn't at him, "If that's really all the trouble, then relax. I never once thought you were after me because I'm a goldrider." Even if he was, he wouldn't be the first and it isn't as if she's minded in the past. Mindful of Rasavyth, if he'll allow her, she steps closer to place her hands on K'zin's shoulders, "Thank you. I do appreciate that. You could make it easier on me, by behaving." This is a tease, as true as it is. "But... I trust your judgment enough to try and understand. I don't like the sound of those headaches, though. You should talk to a healer." Dragon or otherwise. K'zin seems to relax as things go from all too tense to her laughing. Even if it were at him, right now, he'd be too relieved to care. For once, he's keeping his mouth shut. Take the win! Rasavyth will allow her to step close, though he stays behind K'zin, definitely no longer in a cuddly frame of mind. "I'll do my best." The man assures her. "But remember I'm human too. I make questionable choices sometimes." He won't say wrong, but he'll admit that there's a possibility they weren't exactly right. "I'll visit Rider Leova," a dragonhealer he trusts, "And talk to Healer Madilla." This is a meek enough agreement. "So... where does all this leave us?" Brown eyes fall to her face, searching it for answers. "Leova and Madilla. I couldn't have picked a better pair." She's relieved to be sure, fatigue trailing her words that has little to do with the physical. Azaylia's eyes slide to Rasavyth over K'zin's shoulder, blinking away the guilt before it can settle more solidly. His question has her pulling back, hands sliding down to find his hands and give them a comforting squeeze, "As far as I can tell, the same place we started? You're still welcome to visit, if you still want to. And I'm looking forward to a less... complicated talk." It dawns on her, what he might really be asking, "We're still friends. And our date stands if you would relax. Please. And if it helps, I haven't had time lately to have many visiters." Obviously added for the sake of a young man's pride. K'zin's fingers twine into Azaylia's once her hands have found his and her first words on the subject of the two of them have been delivered. He listens carefully to the rest, before asking: "So, it won't bother you, then, if-- when the rules permit it--" He's careful to make this stipulation, "I have visitors of my own?" "No. Of course not." Azaylia's answer is carried out on a sigh, happy to be presented with an easy question. "When the rules permit." She echoes, also careful. Her palms press into his, welcoming what comfort holding hands brings after such a heated discussion. "I won't lie..." Thinking better of it, her teeth sink into her bottom lip as the rest of what she wants to say runs a silent course. Instead, "I like to imagine you're a fast learner." A softer note than when she began, and perhaps a bit more ambiguous. It's safer, that way. Still subtly amused with by her own thoughts, she begins to pull away, "Should I write a report to your Werylingmasters?" She's genuinely curious, though there's trust that he might not need her to. That answer, too, seems to relieve K'zin. This liaison may prove to be far less complicated than things initially seemed after all. His eyes track her lips curiously as she begins a sentence and then doesn't add whatever she might otherwise have said but he doesn't ask- he's too busy laughing. It's brief but it's with real amusement, the smile he offers to her then playful. "I'd hope so. But regardless, I know that practice makes perfect." A brow raises suggestively at that. "I've been known to practice for hours, and hours... at the forge. Just to get a lesson right in practice." His brow wiggles just a bit before he's breaking out into a goofy grin. Then there's the more serious matter for which he (after enjoying it a long moment!) tempers his expression. "No. I'll report myself." His expression turns thoughtful. "It-- it's the right thing to do." Then, slowly, "I'll leave Sabella out of it, but I'll come clean." "I don't know that you'll be able to." Leave Sabella out of it, "Without lying." Azaylia doesn't have it in her to argue any further, so she takes it as a fair enough compromise. She isn't a Weyrlingmaster, after all. "Uh huhm." Excitement for what could be an amusing back-and-forth is tempered, pulling her hands from his and giving K'zin a gentle shove. Her smile isn't goofy, but it's at least warm, "I have work I have to get back to." She'll allow him a hug, arms wrapping around his torso and giving him a squeeze, "Hopefully the next time we talk, there will be less misunderstandings." Her breathless murmur sounds more like a prayer. For Rasavyth, "I hope he doesn't always resent her." Dragon memory or no. "I can try." K'zin responds with a shrug. to the first, apparently also not of a mind to make it an issue once more. The shove is received as playfully as it was meant, and he rocks back on his heels, goofy grin returning briefly. His arms will fall around the goldrider when she hugs him, strong arms returning the squeezes. "By the First Egg, I hope so." He swears with fervor. As though to clarify that this was for their own misunderstandings moreso than the dragons', "We'll have to wait and see." He'll certainly be walled off from the gold for the next couple of days. "We'll let you get back to it." K'zin's arms release her and he steps into the tunnel, followed by his dragon, who begins his wiggle a few feet in. Azaylia can, and still enjoys the embrace, sending the pair off on a note that's more sweet that bitter. At least there's that. She's able to smile, watching the dragon who's determined to wriggle his way back out into the bowl. "Behave, you two." A hopeful farewell that's aimed at their backs. Once they're gone, the weyrwoman walks towards her couch and collapses in Bones' dip, where she'll lay there longer than she intends to. Teenagers. |
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Nicky (Nicky (talk)) left a comment on Wed, 03 Apr 2013 16:58:21 GMT.
< Oh, Waki. *tut tut tuts*
Don't worry, Hraedhyth! Cailluneth still loves you. ;D
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