Logs:Confessions Between Friends
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| RL Date: 31 March, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Mave |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Mave is upset. K'zin is not Bones, but he is a friend. A deep talk is had, confessions are shared. K'zin turns over incriminating sketches, and a penalty is agreed upon, more or less. |
| Where: Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 5, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: The sky is clear today. The air remains cool and damp, but the weather is overall pleasant today. |
| Mentions: Barnabas/Mentions, N'ky/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Aishani/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: First note, this scene was to settle an OOC bet between players. The bet was that K'zin could have a whole scene with Mave and not bring up relationships. Loser has to do a scene in a dress. Second note: not the player's art, but an example of the level of artistic ability in K'zin's sketches (Image is G rated!) |
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| Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora. Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit. Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath.
Warmth has more than one meaning, and more than one method, but, apparently, the same location: Mave shuffles inside the greenhouse, shoulders slumped, an air of returning home. She's certainly making one of the greenhouse, meandering to a bench, lifelessly tossing a heavy book-bag onto the closest wood bench, startling the seating with a hard //thunk// echoing across leaves. Tucked inside her own head, she conceives of no company, relaxing into the warmed air with a disconcerted writhe of her shoulders that leads to promptly grabbing up her jacket sleeves and shucking the article onto the bench, over the bag. No comfort pervades from the loss, instead her palms rub agitatedly against her thighs, seeking further, driving home a point that's locked uncertain disappointment in her eyes. The bench Mave settles on is not conveniently close to where K'zin is working. But the sound of another occupying the space while so many are off getting lunch has him looking up. He lingers a few moments longer with the dirt in the bed, churning the soil, but the job was all but finished anyway. Grabbing a rag from his pocket, he rubs excess dirt from his hands, leaving the spade and fork tucked in at the edge of the planting box. Something about this place when it's empty encourages things to be done in a quiet way, and K'zin obliges, moving with soft foot-falls towards the girl on the bench. "Hey Mave." He offers in murmur with a smile as he nears. "Ugh," snorts the girl, flailing her hands before they clap back down on her hips, flat, "I'm the-- " When she looks up, disappointment lingers; Mave hasn't the grace to have dismissed it, even at what should be a familiar welcome. Initially, she balks in this way at him, but his smile coaxes a reply. Her eyes don't quite brighten sincerely with the expression until she blinks, and then they do. "Oh, K'zin..." A soft, sheepish laugh tempered by a lack of actual embarrassment helps, but also has her glancing down and around the varying shelves of plants. "I was expecting..." Pleasantries fall, she gnaws at a lip, eyes casting down; her shoulders haven't recovered and she seems minutely smaller than usual, if that's even physically possible. Then, she'd be just a little Mave seedling, balled up on the ground. "Bones. Bleh, way to eat lunch outside when I need you, jerk." K'zin's brows go through a series of exercises that give them a well-rounded workout as they dip for initial confusion, raise for inquiry, pop high as she makes the recognition, and then dip low once more as she complains about the absent gardener. He stops just short of the bench, lips pursing thoughtfully, "It's probably my fault. I've been pestering him to give me some manual labor. He was already gone when I got here, but one of the helpers said I could make myself of use." He glances back to the bed he was tending, and then turns, sliding onto the bench beside Mave. "I know I'm no Bones, but sometimes I'm pretty good at listening. I could pretend to be Bones for a few minutes if you want. Uh- without the dirty jokes. I don't think I could get that part right." He offers her a tentative smile. "You okay? You seem a little..." He trails off because he doesn't know what to call her mood. Nor Mave, who fails to fill in the hesitant blank except to look neither improved nor necessarily worsened. He's leveled her out between emotional thoughts, slowing her even further than her natural so that she could be nearly sleep-complaining. "Sometimes," is tested out, low, when he says it, then she leaves that be. As she ruminates over the offer, that slumping poise gravitates towards his presence-- a warmth of a third kind, as she lets her shoulder fall against his. Staring forward, she sighs, bringing her far hand to tug, tug-- tug her hair out of its binding. Fingers that run through get caught in tangled clumps all the way to the tips. "Sorry, buster, it's not Bones without the jokes," she says, throughout, "And the laugh. So if I don't hear a 'hehe' out of you, then I'm calling shenanigans." As she settles her slight weight against him, shoulder to shoulder, he shifts slightly so that he's angled a little more towards her, so her shoulder rests where his shoulder and chest join. He draws his arm up to lay lightly across her shoulders. It's tentative, at first, meant to be simple gesture of comfort and movement, he's just not sure she'll accept that from him. "Well, Ras has been digging through my memories again and it's given him some new material. I-- they're really dirty though." K'zin looks embarrassed for a moment, "But if you want dirty jokes, I'll ask him for one and tell you." The sacrifices he makes to be her friend. "The 'hehe,' however, is trade marked to Bones. It'd be like me slapping Journeyman Thraland's mark on something I made. Just can't do it." He sounds serious enough when he says it, but should she look, there's a teasing smile on his lips. "Oh," a soft little imitation of Mave's practical voice chirps, "Okay." An ambiguous umbrella, blanketing each of his wonders, from the turn of his shoulder and arm, to the source of the jokes, and even the trademark. "That makes sense," further defines, and excuses. "Maybe," she begins to straighten-- it's only to sigh, not expressly bleakly, but just an exhalation of tire, her lips vibrating at the end in pbbt that messes hair falling down her forehead. "You should just be K'zin, instead." He hasn't earned her righteous disappointment, no; she says it sensibly, an easing in of respect for her friend's individuality. An attempt at generosity, wrapped up in a teenage girl's encompassing self-pity. She sits there, hovering on the bench like the precipice of saying versus not saying, comfortable in the idea of both so much that silence falls, heavy and also not. "Alright. So, me being K'zin," He begins thoughtfully, arm squeezing her shoulders in a little half hug, "I've got two good ears and it seems to me like you have something on your mind." Beat. "My sister once told me that girls-- women-" He corrects, sliding a glance towards Mave, "-have an easier time making sense of things when they can talk it outside their head. So... what's up?" He bites his lower lip. The gesture, this time, says there's something he's not asking. But assumptions have gotten him on Mave's bad side before, so this time, he's not taking the chance. Mave's shift, like as to excuse him from duty, transforms the second he squeezes her. She falls, greedily malleable, into the hug. "Girl." It's a fast, barely thought out correction, almost pessimistic except for how easily she accepts the fact. This whole time staring ahead, she hasn't caught a single subtlety of K'zin-- possibly, even if she'd been staring, it would still be true. Playing her fingers against her leg, she soon drops both hands into her lap, pushing knuckles together and simultaneously starting and stopping a shrug, remembering he's there in the motion. "I talk too much." Declared through a worry of her teeth and she bites on her cheek, to stopper more of this travesty that is her voice. While she's been so far down but not out, her revelation triggers a switch, opening a floodgate of sudden, realizing distraught that scatters through her eyes as she stares at the garden floor. Shutting it down in record teenager time, she's left distinctly sullen, in a want for that ball shape-- so much that K'zin will have to do. Where she'd been just leaning bonelessly, she begins to truly sidle against him, as her head lowers pushily onto the crook of his shoulder. "Tell me those nice things you said in the stable loft." It's a good thing for K'zin that intense confusion usually leaves him dumbfounded. Or else he'd certainly be busy trying to taste his feet in an effort to change the dynamic of the situation. As she burrows against him, he twists a little further so that his other arm can come up to offer her a proper, strong hug. "Right now," His baritone is still soft, warm, gentle - the kind of tone that he'd sooth a crying babe in the nursery with, "You're not talking enough. I can't read your mind, you know. It's probably best that way." That last is said with a little touch of humor meant to try to lighten the sullen girl's mood. He squeezes her gently, and his tone comes out apologetic, "I thought you didn't want me to say that kind of thing to you. It's all still true, about you, I mean. But... shouldn't you be maybe asking someone else to tell you that you're pretty and smart and really-hard working and good at lots of things you don't even think about being good at? Someone like... N'ky?" He winces slightly and the flinch can be felt in his body. His face is a pained combination of regret, helplessness, and frustration. His hands feel tied, and after a good long hug (as long as she'll let or is reasonable, whichever comes first), his arms will slowly start to withdraw from the embrace. A tug of her lip tries to reward him for his humor, but it freezes there, too contemplative to truly be a release. Apologized to, Mave flinches guiltily, irritably-- all comes to the same little reluctant squeeze into him. Striving to remember what she's said to him, precisely, leads to distraction she nearly missed when the compliments hide inside his dismissal; unconsciously, her hand winds up to his shirt, fingers furling in to tug needfully, just to slip back self-consciously when the other boy is named. A sigh shifts her shoulders, still against him but uncertain. She might miss facial cues, but the flinch reads into her from him, fueling her own. Yet, a selfishness wins out and she leans stubbornly on him even as the retreating warmth of his arm casts a new resigned hue to her face. "I thought I'd ask my friend." Embarrassed, now perhaps genuinely, her hand nestled between them plants on the bench to take a fraction of her own weight. "And N'ky is not your friend?" His tone is confused, though for what he just implied, perhaps he shouldn't be. Now K'zin's moving, shifting underneath her lean. It's good that her hand has taken some of her weight, because now he's moving so that he can lean back, while he reaches for her shoulders to try to turn her to face him a little bit more, trying further to look her in the face, his own serious and touched with concern. "Nevermind. Okay, so you're asking your friend. And your friend is telling you that you're pretty, and smart, and hard-working. But your friend doesn't know why you need to hear those things today." Since obviously there's something about now, this timeframe that has her looking for validation from him (or whoever). "So, spill, friend. What's going on?" His demand is gentle, but insistent. Her eyebrows lift skeptically throughout his confusion: do you see N'ky here? But being shifted nestles it out of her, face bland as she lets herself, not altogether gracefully, be bullied into straightening onto him face-to-face. "My friend's getting a little 'friend' happy." Mave's own, quick and blase stab at humor amidst her obvious discontent. When it's straight-forward questioned, her eyes dart sideways. "It's nothing serious," she admits, free shoulders now driving up towards her ear in a shrug that stops, boxing her up in a protective wall. "I just--" another stiff sigh where she forces herself to relax as fast as she stiffened, bringing her left hand up to press into her forehead, pushing hair away and just leaning her head into it to compose an answer-- a thought. "Need to stop giving advice. It'd probably be better if I just stop having any opinions at all. Go ahead-- " she sits straight promptly, steeling herself and leaning forward on hands she plants on the beach to stare him right in the eye, close because the bench ain't that big, "Read my mind. There's nothing there." Proudly, hopefully. K'zin's lips turn upwards at the edges, smiling at her humor, eyes closing a moment while he shakes his head in a 'Oh, you' kind of way. "You're acting awfully serious for something that's not." He mutters before he's busy blinking at her intense look. "What's the matter with giving advice? It's the other person's choice to take it or not. Besides, you've always given me good advice." So why should it be different for anyone else." His hands reach up to cup her face then, his own look turning intent. His fingertips reach up to her temples and press lightly. Apparently, trying to do as she bids and read her mind. "I have?" Her laugh translates into his hands, cheeks pushing into his palms, emphasizing to her their presence and slowing her intended snort to just a breath out of nostrils. In the softness of a smile that almost was, she sought to dismiss, water under the bridge, any misunderstandings between them before. Realizing he's taken her command at its word, seriousness-- a bit over-exaggerated as she uses playfulness to disguise anxiety-- controls her face, staring him down with a promise of strength to break what's known to be possible. "Yeah," she murmurs, in the end only breaking her concentrated silence, "That's what I used to think." Which still tasks him with what the now, the thing whittling away at her temple, where he touches, as her eyes drift down. Then, a hint: "But then... I also used to be happy with how I was." Brown eyes close to better focus on the thought patterns under his fingertips, or maybe it's just to better focus on what he's making up as an answer. A single eye peeps open at the hint, then closes again. "Alright. I'm getting something." K'zin begins and then clears his throat. "I'm sensing that you're not happy with how you are. You feel like you're saying the wrong things to the wrong people," An eye again pops open, "Or the wrong thing to the right people. Whichever." Apparently her thoughts aren't communicating specifically enough. "But wait! What's that?" His eyes shut tight once more. If she starts to speak then he hushes her with exaggerated an exaggerated "Shh!" Then he nods slowly, "There's more to yourself than what you see. You're capable of great things." Beat. He leans back a little and opens his eyes, "You just have to sort that out for yourself yet. But it's all in there." His grin is both impish and hopeful. Hopeful that he's struck the right cord to make her feel a little better. "And you have. Sometimes your advice has been a little-- overly physical shall we say. But as long as you're not breaking the noses or bruising the faces of everyone you're giving advice to, I'm sure your doing great. Did someone say something about your advice or something?" Evidently, reading her mind did not reveal this secret to him. "Have you ever thought about talking to Healer Madilla? She's a really good listener." Trying to stay somber proves to be difficult, more than it's worth, as K'zin's show at reading minds chips away at her unusual soberness. When he shushes her, Mave snorts, loudly, at the gall. Eyebrows raised especially expectant from this point on, complemented by a skeptically puckered mouth, ease when she really hears what he says. Though her pressed mouth scoffs at a measure of campiness to his trick, it's evident in her softer eyes that his grin's weaseled through to her. A corner of her mouth thinks about smiling, just makes her look wry. Openness of emotions, her slight vulnerability at having been comforted, causes her to look particularly pained at the mention of physical, and then bite her lip. Her cheek presses thoughtlessly into one of his supportive hands. "No, I just-- " but the secret's reveal is interrupted by his further advice. "Noo..." Thoughtful, but wary; she blinks, and her chin starts to dip. Her conflict seems to be around if he's telling her to leave. K'zin's hands move away from her face to take up her hands, letting them sit half on his thigh and half on hers. This gesture, one would hope, would be enough to banish the thoughts of leaving. "I just meant that Madilla's helped me through a lot of stuff. I'm glad to listen, but she's-- well, she's got training and stuff." K'zin sees the Weyr shrink. Anyone surprised? "But I'd like if you would talk to me too." His look is a little unsure, but not about what he said (his tone was quite resolute). What he's unsure of is what he asks next, "What were you going to say? You just? If no one said anything...?" He's back to struggling to understand what's going on. A little groan comes out of Mave, her head leaning back now that it's free, to stretch her neck, rolling it to the side where it softly cracks under her wince. Fingers flex against his, not for escape, just expelling nervous energy she otherwise hides off her face-- or has chased away in exasperation, her half-tucked mouth says. "It's just... I feel like I can never really say what I want to. I think something in my head," a writhe overtakes her, uncomfortably; her hands splay out, fingers scraping at his thigh, "but all that comes out is gibberish. And, like, a lot of it. Whole, huge, stupid mountains of words, while not a single one manages to get my point across." Loosening his hands so that Mave's fingers can move more comfortably in his grasp. Brown eyes watch Mave's face intently as she speaks. K'zin takes a deep breath slowly before offering some advice of his own. "Have you ever stopped to think that maybe other people just aren't smart enough to keep up with you? That it's not what you're saying at all that's the problem? That it's them?" Brows knit together and his lips purse for a moment before his eyes return to Mave's face from her fingers on his thigh where his attention has wandered. "I don't usually have trouble understanding you. And when I don't, I pretty much assume it's because I don't understand girls." He shrugs. "You do talk a lot." His fingers squeeze hers, and he's seeking eye contact so she can see that he's only joking. This might go poorly; is that foot he tastes? No, it's laughter in the air; Mave's giggles warming the breath between them, a bark of laughter before more girlish chuckles balling her freckles on high cheeks. "Other people aren't smart enough?" Laughed out, with sparkling eyes that turn practical as she cools, her feet swinging with more relaxed gumption than stirred her fingers-- ones that now wriggle idly, tap, tap, tapping him on the leg. "Okay, okay," she soothes herself, "But I'm serious." Not accusatory to him, only a soft plead to give her true advice, after what she's certain was a joke: her, ahead of others! Becoming looser, malleable, under the release of stress from the laughing, she sways, ending up leaning in, putting weight on her hands as she eyes her own arms distantly. "I ran my mouth pretty hard at K'del the other day, and that's the last thing he needs. Need someone to follow me around and just dive in front of my face whenever I'm about to go off. Just-- " freeing a hand, she juts it out expressively to the side, "'Mave! For the love of Faranth-- nooooo!'" Her hand drops, then lifts to push at her hair and then she smacks two of her fingers into her lips, "Or maybe just cover my mouth and drag me off into the corner until I'm over it." "So am I!" K'zin responds back with playful intensity. As he speaks he leans in, brows lifting and eyes popping in an equally playful and intense expression. He leans back with a laugh, "You really don't see it at all, do you, Mave?" It? "You're so smart about like, day to day stuff. Can't be helped if others can't keep up." He reiterates his belief before addressing her other point, "If you want someone to stop you from that kind of thing, sounds like you need to Stand and Impress. Dragons seem to be pretty effective at shutting people up when they don't want them saying something." Or at least his is. "But I really don't think you need to be stopping yourself. And if there are things you don't want to say, then just don't say them." Sounds so simple! "K'del-- has a lot going on right now. You know. With Aishani and all that. But he usually has time to listen..." So has been his experience with the former Weyrleader. Her account seems to differ, though, so he's left looking a little puzzled. "Oh, no, he listened." With the free hand, Mave scratches at her own head, turning into a thread of fingers in her hair. "And then told me to grow up." She scowls, briefly. Digging into her mind; maybe even she can't read it. "Or... that I'd understand if I grew up? Anyway, I'm not sure I want to. Considering all the rat-shit that's going on." Her idle sniff over the idea of Impression was nearly as dismissive as the roll of her eyes when he calls her smart; neither malicious, but her characteristic practical: there's no way, and she's not a time-waster. "I feel like my head's being run over the washing board half the time. I was more certain about myself when I was five than I am now." Lifting her head, she starts to breathe in deeply but it stutters. She eyes him, warily, studying. Did this all start when their relationship changed? She seems to evaluate, though it turns playful the more she stares. "He said...?" K'zin looks thoroughly confused as this picture Mave paints of his father-figure clashes badly with his own noble mental image. He frowns for a long moment, but then those thoughts are set aside in favor of dealing with the matter at hand. A shake of his head with his short locks bouncing around his eyes brings him back to the present. "Okay. So when you were five, what did you want to do when you got bigger? What were you certain of back then?" Perhaps this is the path that takes them closer to sorting all this out for her. At least the fact that he's willing to sit and try to muddle through all of this does confirm one important thing: they are friends. Mave's contented nodding confirms: K'del said-- some variation-- and her prim little mouth leaves the rider with no fault; he's older, wiser, so he knows. Persuaded to think back, she pushes off from being forward, leaning back with a half-giggled uhh. "A renegade," she teases, partially, "A sailor," said more definite, "Like my father." Shrugging is mainly one-shouldered now, revealing that relaxation has snuck in. "But mostly... I knew, y'know? You saw me here." Her chin curves out towards the Weyr proper behind them, beyond that cozy niche of greenhouse. Pulling a leg up on the bench with her, she grips onto the ankle with both hands, leaving his own leg be. "Nothing took, in our learnings. And that's-- " she's quite to dissuade him any objections, "Okay. Or, I thought it was. I want it to be. Just..." now her mouth twists back and forth, debating the wiseness of her words, all things considered. The matter of K'del is set aside entirely. That's something he'll have to think on and perhaps deal with later. For now, this is more important. "Well, renegades don't have long term livelihood," K'zin considers, "Sailors do though. You could still be one of those, if you wanted." His expression is thoughtful, "Are you any good with rope and knots and stuff?" Stuff; so vast is his knowledge of just what sailors do. "So what happened that made you not know anymore?" His query is curious, his head tilting to one side. "Do you know that when I look at you I half still see you from when we were little? And half see you as you now? And half see you as you're going to be in a couple turns?" For someone claiming to be good at math, that equation just doesn't add up. "I even draw you sometimes. I mean, I draw everyone," That is said hurriedly so it doesn't come out sounding like it's anything special, "Well, all the girls-- women-- I meet. Who aren't old." He flushes, his turn to babble a little, "But you always-- you always look fierce in my drawings, because you are. Fierce in the way that Hraedhyth is fierce. And Azaylia when she--" Kisses people? "--needs to be." He finishes after a moment of stumbling over his thoughts. Bad math causes Mave's eyebrows to drive unhappily down, her eyes glazing with loss before she stumbles back into her thought. "Now... now you can read minds and see the future." So soberly, mystically said, it must be a jest. Big eyes shimmer with playful adoration, lips softly parted as if to speak hush praises. All ruined when she snorts, loudly and not girlishly. But fondness sticks in her eyes, letting him know his reassurances have not gone entirely astray in her humor. "Oh, you draw?" She blurts out, half over his own rambling, blatantly going on even though she can hear him talking, "I don't think I knew that you draw..." She drops her gaze to the floor to think, and this occupies a good bit of her attention span so that, glancing up, she's missed any of his own stumbling. But not that he's rambling. Grinning impishly, she scoots swiftly forward on the bench, bumping into him to jab too fingers up against his mouth with a teasingly soothing, "Shhhhh-- wait." Her chin drops with the sheer force of the confusion assailing her features. "Did you say Hraedhyth?" "You take the gifts life gives you. Sorry we can't all read minds and see the future." K'zin responds in a playfully snarky tone, his expression screaming how very superior he is, but only for a few moments. Then her fingers are against his lips and he's blinking. When he can speak again, he answers the issue of drawing: "Yeah. She's kinda-- fierce. Like you." He confirms of the gold, before distracting himself with another current topic: "Yeah, well, I didn't start to doodle until after we had our little miscommunication." One hand, of the two that have gone lax, forgotten where they sit with hers on their two laps, pulls away now and rises to rub along his nose sub-consciously, as it almost always does when the pre-pubescent punch is mentioned. "Madilla suggested I maybe start doing something I liked to-- well, to not be so obnoxious to people. That's not how she put it. But I like it. It's mostly stuff I make up." He's turning red now. "Actually, there's something about my drawing I need to ask you about. And you might hate me forever, but try not to, okay?" Mave gasps, hand jumping from his mouth to hers, all fingers together for a little faux-gasp, "Did I inspire you to start drawing?" Joke though it starts, her eyes soften ponderously, wondering, and a tinge hopeful, like the way she bites her lip, before his question startles her into looking him quizzically in the eye. "I didn't realize we were at that point in our relationship where we reveal questionably hateful things." As much a nervous question as a jest, her hands twisting fitfully, one coiled in her hair and the other at her knee. "I kind of just got over a thing. Are you sure this is the time?" Hesitant though she is, after a brief pause where her breath escapes, she adds, "Sorry, is that selfish?" He said need; surely, it's important, and worthwhile. "Uh--" K'zin looks surprised, blinking at Mave, as though not sure exactly what to say. "Contributing factor, I guess you could say? It was-- well, it was back when there weren't a whole lot of things going my way." When he was acting out and being a jerk to girls he liked; after his family left the Weyr. "Well, I thought since we're just friends now..." He bites his lower lip, now doubting what he just brought up. "You know what, it can wait. It's not like whether we talk about it now or in a couple of sevendays it matters over much. N'ky just said that he didn't think it was right-- and -- I didn't want to-- well, just destroy things." Has he gone and said too much just after saying it could wait? If he did, it wasn't intentional. K'zin's not smart enough (yet) to lead someone to a conversation he wants to have. He gulps everything back in, ending with this, awkwardly: "I just don't like destroying my art if I don't have to." Fortunate for K'zin, much of his hinted meaning flies over her head, a stray subtlety or two getting caught in her uncombed strands of hair. "Oh, uh. That seems dramatic." But what does she know of art? Blinking slowly, she steadily shrugs, "If it's... not... accurate, then I mean-- keep practicing?" Her hands come up near her sides, ambiguously referencing the air near her with palm-up waving, "Use real life references, or... well, preferably, don't ask me art questions. Though you know I'd help, if I could." Mouth turning down in an exaggerated ugh regarding her own intelligence. "But, look, I'm sorry if I put you in a spot." A smile perks in, turning cheeky, "Especially one meant for Bones and his jokes." Meaning to impress upon him, and feeling not up to it with merely her expression, she lays her hands across their laps again, tops of hers pressing gently but firmly against his leg. "It's-- as accurate as it's going to get without seeing the real life reference." This pops out of K'zin's mouth before he realizes he's saying it. "Oh, shells." He swears softly, generically, especially as her hands press onto his thigh. Brown eyes fly back up to her face from where they had followed her hands. "I used to draw what I thought you looked like-- naked." He blurts, hesitating at the last word, then his body tenses, prepared for whatever painful death she might exact. Not for Bones and his jokes then. At first, it's as though Mave's simply forgotten the language, and K'zin's blurted utter nonsense at her, but the polite thing to do is stare attentively as though you understand. Then, gently, one eyebrow lowers, and the other soon copies. Lips begin to form-- but not a harsh overturn; no scowl affronts her round baby cheeks. When her mouth settles, her throat tenses-- emitting a long, high, note of intense amusement from the back. It goes lower as she tries to stem the noise, only making it sound even more ridiculous. This makes two of them staring once the noise starts. K'zin's eyes flick up to her face and he stares. Has she gone crazy? Well, she's not killing him, so that's one vote for yes. Even as she's trying to stem the noise, he starts to babble. "N'ky said it wasn't right for me to have the drawings. Now that we're friends." And N'ky likes Mave, though this isn't said. "But I couldn't just-- throw them out because they're good, and I- I- I'm proud of them, but I did think he was probably right that I shouldn't have them anymore so I thought I should tell you and if you wanted to destroy them, you could, since they're of you. Or of you plus my imagination." He rambles, and then he's shifting abruptly to get at his cargo pocket. Out of it, he pulls a notebook the size of his hand, and pulls off the cord holding it closed. He flips quickly to the back and grabs out the loose pages there, holding them out towards Mave, in the style of a sacrificial offering. "Don't hate me?" The drawings range from (on the top) a less experienced hand drawing a cartoonish clothed younger self of Mave (about 11 or 12 maybe) and then skip some turns before there's more graphic art of her closer to the age she is now. None of it is terribly explicit; all of it is tasteful nudity, though her expression in at least one of the drawings is very much a 'Come hither' look she's probably never worn in real life. As the drawings age her up, the techniques are better, and the oldest ones have her face quite realistic, though the body is probably that of some similarly-framed woman he happened to see in the bathing pools. Tentatively curious, her hand jutting out quick, slowing, then taking the papers like she's ripping a bandaid off-- though smoothing out her fingers at the last second so as not to tear his precious work, Mave turns the drawings towards herself, staring at K'zin with boggled eyes all the while, till she finally angles her gaze down. Amusement's still rippling at the corners of her mouth when she examines the first, it written all over her face how little she knew what to expect. Her, cartoon, clothes. Okay. She blinks, licking her lips, and slips that page behind the rest. Each one, innocent to graphic, passed through her hands, all studiously examined; as clothes disappear, her throat tickles with residual giggles and snorts, each short and staved as soon as they're out. It's the come hither face that has her closing her eyes to laugh out a nervous breath before she can stare it straight on. Flipping it over so he can see, she presses the back of the page to her chest, eying him plaintively: really?. Turning it back on its right side, she sighs, drowning herself in a near-sob of disbelief, "And you-- fishnuts, you let me say that thing about references." Fingers push in embarrassment up against her cheek, creating a bump of freckles. "Ohhh..." More staring at the pretty curves of pencil, defining a less than curvaceous figure. "I don't know if I should be glad you were realistic, or upset you didn't give me huge, sexy tits." He's tense. He's waiting for the death he was so vehemently assured would come by N'ky. But-- wait, is laughter usually what heralds a violent murder in the Greenhouse? Well, with the talk of Bones and his jokes and 'hehe'ing... maybe it is? K'zin starts to relax, taking probably more interest than he should or thought he would in her face as she looks through the sketches. A small smile touches his lips as she lets out those little choked noises. He's blushing lightly and that intensifies when she turns the come hither sketch, and he gets a stupid grin on his face. He shrugs helplessly, "A guy can dream, can't he? I mean, dreaming is all I've been allowed to do according to the rules for turns and turns." Hence all the sketches; have to redirect all that pent up sexual energy somewhere. Not that the reason for drawing was initially that. "I've never had a real reference before. I mean, no one's ever posed for me to sketch them. I just-- imagine things." His eyes flick away from her and back. "You didn't know what you were talking about when you said the thing about references." He tries to make the situation seem a little better. Then she's saying that thing about boobs. He chokes a little, coughing to clear his throat, one hand coming up to politely cover his mouth as he does so. His face is still red when he recovers, and he looks her square in the face to say: "I like your tits-" He points a finger to the ones on the paper, and then flicks it up to the ones he's never seen, "Just as they are. As your friend, after this," He gestures again to the page, "I think you've a right to know at least that. If I didn't like the way you looked just as you are, I'd've drawn you differently." He doesn't say 'with huge tits,' but that's clearly what he means. "These are little girl tits," he's swiftly informed as she flips the next page instructionally, "You've been drawing little girls." So pleasant and helpful, Mave. "I'm just saying you could've dreamed a little--" hands circle in front of her, "Bigger." You know what they say about big imaginations? Neither does Mave; everything's slightly more difficult in this moment, due to the nasty bout of flushing heating her cheeks, despite the natural way she refers to her breasts, his liking them has an absolute effect. Teasing scurries to cover her scattered feelings, blown apart by the wind of disorientation holding a bunch of nude artistic renderings of herself causes. Frankness on her part, this calm interlude, could be purely born out of shell-shock. "But, really, K'zin, these are..." her thumb runs over the page as she tilts her head, "Actually pretty. Really lovely," her gaze lifts, half-lidded by her turned down chin, to him, "You just need to work on your subject matter, perv." Expressly: her, the fifteen-year-old. Looking back down at the page; maybe staring long enough makes it seem not real, like looking at written words too long. "Although, you said there were others..." "What?!" K'zin demands in surprise, "No, they're not. You're only a little younger than me. I'm seventeen. You can't be younger than fifteen. They're totally age-appropriate boobs." The words are comedic enough that he might be mistaken for joking. He is, in face, very serious. He doesn't like being accused of being that kind of perv. "If you're old enough for me to kiss, for N'ky to kiss, and he is older than me, you know, then you're old enough to have your titties drawn. End of story." His arms cross over his chest, shoulders hunching a bit defensively. His gaze slides over to Mave, not commenting on the others he did indeed mention. "They're lovely because they're you," is the only further comment he offers. "Oh, calm down," Mave's tone dips, not harshly, but seriously edgy for a moment, too, to indulge his defensiveness with a bit of warning, "You just handed me nude drawings of myself, I get to rib at you a little." Even trade. She shucks the mood soon as she's said her last syllable, mouth drawing neutrally off to the side. "He is?" N'ky's age passes by, her brain plucking it out of the strand of his words. Guilt pricks her for not knowing that. "Hmmm." This, lightly perturbed, noise's all he gets for his last comment at first, then, "No." It stands by itself, steady and calm, like an island of denial, until she continues a beat later, "The lines, the-- drawing of it. You're good. It would be great to have a drawing you did to keep, just... not these." Hands dropping, she tears her eyes from staring, finally holding the pages in a pile over her lap, between them. "I see my own self naked a'plenty." Though she doesn't sound particularly dissatisfied. Her rebuke is enough to make K'zin do exactly as she says. Arms drop back to his sides and his shoulders straighten, "Alright, alright. That's fair. I just-- I'm not like that." He feels it needs to be said, the revulsion in his voice clear for what that is. But then he puts it behind them. "But I am a perv. I'll give you that one, free and clear. I think all seventeen turn old boys probably are." There's a simple nod for N'ky's age being older than his own. He looks down to the pages. "You want me to draw you something?" He considers in the course of a blink, "Alright. Sounds fair for you not killing me or hating me. What do you want a drawing of?" Then to the drawings again, "What will you do with those?" He chews his lower lip, clearly a little concerned for the future of his sketches. "I'd say maybe I'll think of something good later, but I probably won't." Relayed quite practically, Mave, once more, undisturbed by her own sense of self-awareness. Indicated, the drawings in her lap are shifted lightly towards her. "Nuh uh uh, wouldn't you like to know." Revenge rings clear in her tone, unabashed. Seeing as she nodded agreeably at the notion of seventeen-turn-old boys and their inclinations, there's a layer of understanding; not that he's getting off scot-free. For now, she draws her hand behind her back and sidles the drawings into her butt pocket after a bit of writhing on the bench to get the pocket clear for pushing papers in. Less graceful punctuation than her masterful retort might have been entitled to... but it's all she's got. Because she hasn't got the memory that there's a book-bag right behind her on the bench. Her mind's starting to ache, turning in little, rusty rotations visible behind her eyes as they start to turn en-force. "You." Suddenly spoken, clear as a bell. "You'll draw you." K'zin's lips purse in discontent as she refuses to tell him the fate of his precious artwork. He watches as they vanish into her pocket, eyes flicking to the bag briefly, but deciding he's already escaped death once today, best not to tempt it twice by pointing out the obvious. He shifts on the bench, rocking slightly before resettling, his hands gripping the edge of the bench. "Me?" He then asks, surprised. "You want a sketch of me? Not... someone... I dunno? More important to you? Like your mom? Clothes on, of course." "Ohh," Mave's lofty high note, all pompous and over-confident should well warn him of the impending terribleness. "No, no. It's you." Quite remaining clear, she's deeply rooted in this plan now, gesturing with one hand languidly then crossing both arms over her small tits. "And it's clothes off." K'zin's cheeks had finally started to cool, but are now back to flaring brightly. "You want a naked sketch of me?" His eyes narrow suspiciously. "What are you going to do with a naked sketch of me?" Surely not the same thing he does with naked sketches of her! Surely not! "Girls can be pervs, too." Teasing his blush threatens her to regain her own; though her cheeks flush lightly pink, she stands ground, keeping her tone menacing in its suggestion, till she balks with a looser, "Keep it in my back pocket. As insurance. We'll be even." Her shrug's meant to be casual, disguising some slight stiffness. "I think that's really the only fair thing. You know, as friends." "How does that make us even? I've just handed over to you all the naked sketches I've made of you, and they're not even based on your body. If you want us to be even, you'll have to let me sketch you and keep it." K'zin is bargaining now. "Since mine would be based on actually having seen me naked." Beat. "Which, I tried to give you the opportunity for back when I was not being your friend and kissing you instead, but you weren't interested, so I can only assume you want a naked picture of me to--" He thinks. What do girls do with naked pictures of boys? "I donno." He evidently comes up with something. "But something that isn't just keeping it in your back pocket." He's sure of that! "And how long have you had them?" Mave's hand darts around her back, as if to pull out one of those younger ones-- turns younger. "Do the math. That's been building up interest, buster." Uncrossing her arms' solely for the purpose of balancing as she swings her leg off the bench, standing. "I told you exactly what it was, and that's the deal." Maybe standing has given her a boost of more than insignificant height. "And it's between us now, swear on your unbroken nose." With a swift toss of her head, quite proud, she even smiles at him, and not unpleasantly. "As for how it's based-- well-- " cheekiness steals her lips, not quite grinning, "Use your big imagination." Grabbing the strap of her book-bang in one hand, the other jumps to her mouth. Lips press a quick, quirky kiss to her finger pads, then she turns them towards K'zin, chirping, "You've been a good friend!" Cueing her to turn and scamper for the greenhouse door. So she won't bargain with him. K'zin's lips pull into a frown. Then he's calling after her, "You broke my nose!" So that promise doesn't mean much. Thank Faranth, Madilla knows her craft or the sketch he's to draw would've had a crookeder centerpiece for his face. Of course he would respond to the unimportant first. As she's grabbing up her things, he's watching, but too flustered to do or say anything, "Mave! Wait!" He calls, tone urgent. But he's been flustered too long, and Mave's strode out of ear-shot, turning corners out of the adjoining complex into the general noise of oblivious workers who don't have time to indulge teenage conversations being shouted across them. Too, the haze of processing the last-- however long-- blows noisy smoke into her ears, clogging her head; she either doesn't look back out of embarrassment or pride, whichever guaranteeing that his frantic call goes unheard, unanswered. "MAVE!" K'zin shouts louder, earning looks from those on the other side of the doors she heads out. He's on his feet, though not pursuing. She's gone. His eyes linger on the spot he last saw her before he sinks down onto the bench. He looks positively terrified for a moment, his hands rubbing the tops of his knees. He sucks in his breath and lets it out before saying to himself (or perhaps the near omnipresent mental companion): "Alright. That went well. Now all I have to do is to wait for her to kill me when she finds out N'ky's seen one of the sketches, too." He stays on the bench, looking like a condemned man until the crew that normally man the greenhouse starts making their way back in from the lunch break. The time has him running to make it to the next weyrling obligation a few minutes late. |
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Azaylia (Dragonshy (talk)) left a comment on Mon, 01 Apr 2013 19:27:35 GMT.
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Funny stuff, you two.
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