Logs:Confrontations Are Definitely Better with Alcohol
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| RL Date: 23 June, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte hears about Fayla being pregnant. There's a lot of alcohol then a confrontation and what happens later. |
| Where: Snowasis and H'vier's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Fayla/Mentions, G'laer/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult themes: talk of violence, abuse, miscarriage, sex. Also, aaangst. Back-dated. Vignette and a two part scene. |
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| It's a wonder the elevator dragon consented to bring her up to Reisoth's ledge, as drunk as she is. She hadn't seen H'vier since the girls left, which had given her time to think, and cry. The time was nice because it proved that he was really willing to do things on her terms. She's been thinking of asking him for lunch in the living cavern. A date. Had they ever really had any of those before Tayte found out about the first baby that never was to be and they were in deep? Her hesitation was, of course, K'del. It wasn't, as in times long past that she had conflicting feelings between the two men. It was the way he threw his hands up when she did something he obviously disapproved of. He certainly would have done so, she thought, if he knew about the notes she'd sent the big bronzerider after she had news of the girls, who were settling well enough. Tavi, she couldn't help but think, wouldn't understand why her mother and father were suddenly just not there, but Yvalia was, so that was something. And Yvalia, of course, enjoyed all the cousins about her age. Still. H'vier had been good as far as she knew. He hadn't come to find her sober or drunk, so she was thinking a date in a public setting was a good next step. She hadn't told him about losing the new baby, but given how he'd felt about it, she wasn't ready to tell him yet. She needed to mourn before she could deal with his relief. It was these thoughts that consumed her when Carlotta returned from a table of Iceberg riders looking worried. That concerned Tayte, so she pressed, gently to know the cause. "It's just that those Iceberg riders were saying--" "Yes?" "They were saying... Fayla's pregnant." Tayte must have gone white because Carlotta stepped to her to offer a steadying hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine." Tayte insisted. "Sorry, Tayte." Then Carlotta was called away. Tayte brought the gossip of H'vier and Fayla with her. It would've come out eventually, and it saved a lot of awkwardness by some of the less seasoned gossipers trying to 'protect poor Tayte.' It wasn't a song and dance they'd had to do in a very long time, not since before Tavi, but they still knew the words and choreography, she was sure. The rest of Tayte's shift, that seemed to last longer than an age, was spent thinking considerably less pleasant thoughts. From just that bit of news, she couldn't be sure the baby was H'vier's, certainly, but the timing might well fit. And that thing the bronzerider kid had said about it being a rider thing? She hadn't put stock in it before, but now? What if H'vier wanted to go off and have a happy little family with Fayla after all? They'd gotten on well enough that H'vier hadn't been demoted at all, which was saying a lot for H'vier's interpersonal work relationships, especially considering he was working under a woman. And after all, Fayla didn't have another child who might be H'vier's by blood, but was fathered, by choice, by a man H'vier hated. Tayte always endeavored to keep things professional in Snowasis, so when the shift was finally over, she trekked across the bowl instead of back to the dorms and went into her room after a long, long look 'round outside to make sure no one was waiting for her. She turned the lock behind herself this time. She went to the nightstand, where she'd left the whiskey bottle from the night of G'laer's visit as a reminder, doing nothing more than closing it when he'd done with it. He'd intended to use it to drown her, figuratively, in booze, or to start at least. Tonight, she might well finish that job. Not really, since she would stop with the one bottle. Once she'd started drinking, she managed to change into one of H'vier's favorite dresses. Nothing so fancy as her turnday commissions, but something that she knew he liked. Then it was only a matter of getting so liquored up that all the caution and concerns she'd had before went completely, unwittingly, out the figurative window. She hailed the elevator dragon and wasn't stumbling so badly as went to the blue's side. The rider did have to help her with the buckles on her straps, but she promised she wouldn't harm the upholstery. So up the went. And the blue was so quickly away once she was on the ledge, she probably couldn't have changed her mind if she wanted to. So she squared her shoulders and marched (in a vague zig-zag) into the weyr, past Reisoth, and to the bottle of booze H'vier always had. She poured herself a glass and drank.
"Having a drink. Want one?" Tayte questions, articulate as ever. That's one advantage to being a lifelong drinker, the slurs are fewer. She turns around, leaning against the table. "Is it yours?" She manages to ask this very evenly. That's either the effect of the alcohol or she's been practicing, or both. "Are you supposed to be drinking?" That thought seems to wake him up for fully and he rises to his feet to cross toward Tayte, intending on reaching for her drink. He's bare-chested, of course, only wearing a pair of loose pants. He doesn't always even wear that much so he might have gotten too drunk to remember, or care, to take them off before collapsing into bed. Tayte downs the drink before he can take it from her. It's good, though, because that distracts her from being pissed that he didn't answer the question. Maybe he didn't understand her. She sets the glass on the table behind her with an audible clap of glass to wood. "Fayla's baby. Is. it. yours." It doesn't much sound like a question, but it is. She doesn't move, but she does glare at his approach. H'vier pauses when she downs the drink because he knows that's not something pregnant women are supposed to do. He also knows this isn't her first drink tonight. Before he can get much further in that process, however, Fayla's name earns a sort of jolted focus. He doesn't answer immediately, trying to think of something better to tell the blonde. But, in the end, he can only admit, "She says it is." Tayte's response is a wordless, angry shout. The glass she set down moments before is snatched up and pitched toward the bronzerider. Thankfully, good aim isn't usually a companion of drunkards, so it goes well wide of him and shatters against the wall. But by the time it hits, she's sunk down onto the floor, sobbing. Even if it's not going to hit him anyway, the way H'vier ducks away, not exactly fast on his feet himself, is reflexive. "Fuck, Tayte!" He says as he glances back at the shattered glass. The glass is easier to worry about than the sobbing woman on his floor, but it's less insistent of his attention, so his gaze comes back to Tayte. Except he doesn't know what to do with her so he just takes a few steps closer and watches her dumbly. "Tayte?" She sobs, curling her torso over so she makes herself as small as possible. After some painful moments, a few words escape in between the wails and shuddery, gasping inhales: "It's. Not. Fair." Does he get it yet? It's hard to say. Maybe Reisoth is helping him out. Or maybe he just wants to make the sobbing woman stop sobbing. "Oh, baby," he murmurs, stepping even closer and crouching down to try pulling her against him comfortingly as his arms wrap around her. She doesn't try to resist. Tayte lets herself be gathered against him. She's no doubt still mad at him, but she needs this. This comfort. The need is stronger than the anger. She shifts to wrap her arms around him, pulling herself close as she cries. It's a long time before she's cried herself out and gone quiet and still. "I lost the baby." It's said in a whisper. Just in case he hadn't put it all together. The bronzerider ends up sitting on the floor with the woman he loves, holding her in a way that might edge toward protective. He can't protect her from this, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to. "I'm so sorry, baby." It's genuine and softly voiced, even a little emotional. And, for now, there's no judgment about her not having told him before now. "Why does she get to have one and mine is lost?" Nevermind that this wasn't a baby Tayte was looking to have before it happened. "Why does she get to have your baby?" The answer she's looking for is probably not irresponsible sexual liaisons. It's not easy for H'vier to come up with any sort of answers for her. His arms tighten around her for a moment and he sighs. What can he do? "It's not what I want. But it's not my call." Just like it wasn't his call to suggest Tayte get rid of the one she's lost. It's at this point that Tayte seems to sort of realize just where she is. She blinks big, wide eyes at H'vier. "I shouldn't be here." It would be one thing if they were together or if she weren't sleeping in the dorms, but. "Oh, shells." She starts to try to shift out of his arms, only the dress, whose skirt rises in the front but hangs lower in the back is twisted, so all she succeeds in doing is pressing herself more against him as she tries to untangle herself enough to get up. It's more than slow going for the drunk. He won't argue that she shouldn't be here. H'vier agrees with that in theory. Though right now he's clearly willing to have her here. When Tayte starts moving to rise, the bronzerider is nice enough to help her rather than simply holding her against him. This would surely earn him points if she wasn't drunk, pissed off about his pregnant wingleader and upset over the her own loss. "You should probably lay down," he tells her once they've managed to get up onto their feet. A drunk Tayte is a distractible Tayte. So, it might be that she's forgotten why she came. At least for the moment. And it could be that she's even been distracted from her recent revelation about where she shouldn't be by the thought of sleep. "I am tired." She admits with a sigh, leaning into him rather than moving away. "I miss you, Havi. I'm tired of things being awful." Which is not the original type of tired she started talking about, but what can you do? There's been an awful lot of alcohol tonight for Tayte. H'vier isn't so noble (or at all noble) that he won't wrap his arms around the blonde when she leans into him. "I miss you, too, baby." He presses a brief kiss to the top of her head before adding, "Why don't you lay down, hmm? You can have the bed. Or I can take you down, if you'd rather." Either way, he hasn't been drinking recently enough to think other options are a good idea. But Tayte has! "Will you hold me, Havi? Please?" H'vier knows that's probably not the smartest path. But he does miss his would-be weyrmate. And he was sleeping. And he doesn't really want to just hand over the bed and lay somewhere entirely less comfortable. "Sure," he says, shifting to guide them toward his bed. There's a glance to her skirt, like he's thinking about suggesting she take it off, but he doesn't. All these points wasted on drunkenness! Maybe he'll earn some in the morning if she makes it to sunrise unmolested. Tayte settles in the bed with him, acting the part of the little spoon. It's possible that undressing doesn't even occur to her. Right now, she just wants to be held and given the opportunity, she'll pass out swiftly in his arms. H'vier can just be grateful that Tayte's spent enough time here to know where to find the chamber pot, even while drunk, when she inevitably needs it in the middle of the night. She'll snooze then until thirst wakes her followed by the groggy but no less painful onset of her hangover. The bronzerider lays awake for some time after Tayte has passed out. He'll find sleep eventually, surely. He's asleep, if somewhat restlessly, when Tayte stirs during the night. But he's awake and alert, though still laying in bed with her, when she wakes later. "Tayte," H'vier says her name. It's a warning, reminding her that she's here. With him. It's a shock, if the way she says, "Oh, sweet crackdust." The blonde tenses almost immediately in his arms. The blond shifts and leans so that she can look at him as if to confirm that yes, she's really here and that's really him. "How-?" She starts but then trails off as some memories make their triumphant return. "You were drunk," says H'vier evenly. He moves his arm away from her and rolls onto his back to there can be no misunderstandings about him touching her. "Nothing happened," he adds in much the same way. No misunderstandings. Tayte can't doubt the veracity of his words once she tries to sit up and end up flopping back down, her face into a pillow and a groan escaping her. Then some of it at least seems to come back to her. "Fayla." She breathes. "I'm sorry. That is none of my business." Since they are not together anymore. She starts to try to sit up again but it doesn't go any better the second time. His expression is briefly pained but H'vier doesn't speak out about the reason why. All he says instead is, "I'd like it to be." Not that he wants her to be upset with him. But he'd like it to be her business all the same. The bronzerider shifts, moving around the vintner to get to his feet. Without comment, he goes to pour her a glass of water and brings it back for her. "You don't have to be in a hurry to leave." She can't meet his gaze for the first, but maybe that's because she's unwilling to lift her face from the pillow. Maybe it's the hangover or maybe it's because the pillow smells like him. Eventually, she does manage to sit up, conveniently about the time he's returning with the water. Tayte blinks at the cup and then up at H'vier. It can't be a good thing that recent history causes her to ask, "Why are you being so nice to me?" That question makes the bronzerider frown visibly. H'vier lifts the water slightly, gesturing more obviously for her to take it, but he doesn't answer the question. "Drink. You can stay here or I can take you down. But I have work to do." She takes the water, and then nods slowly. Sipping, her eyes find their way back to H'vier. "I'll go down," Tayte answers after a few sips. And after a few more, she asks, "Is it supposed to feel like we're strangers?" Once Tayte takes the water, H'vier turns away to change into his flight leathers. He mostly doesn't look in her direction while he does so and he's not modest on her behalf. "Isn't that what you wanted?" Something in his voice might suggest it's not what he wants. "I love you, Tayte. But we can't keep doing this. Eventually it just needs to be over." Tayte's eyes continue to follow him. "No." It's not what she wanted. Her tone sounds surprised, even. Then, quietly, she asks, "Do you want it to just be over?" The water cup is forgotten in her hands for the moment. Her look is vulnerable and her gaze hasn't left him. "Did you fuck him?" It might seem like a random question, but H'vier looks over at Tayte like it matters when he asks it, fastening his belt around his hips. There's no accusation in it but he seems to expect her to know precisely what he's talking about. "What?" The expectation will be disappointed, it seems. "Who?" Tayte sounds genuinely surprised by the question. Then her brow furrows. The cup is further forgotten in light of the puzzling question. The bronzerider's jaw tightens, a precursor to what might normally lead to an angry outburst. But H'vier says the name calmly when he does, "K'del. You stayed with him. Did you fuck him?" The woman's confusion is a little less, though her brow only furrows more. "No. K'del is my friend. I didn't fuck him. I didn't want to fuck him. He didn't want to fuck me." In case this all needs to be laid out in simple terms. Then, "I've been staying in the dorms," which she probably figures he knows since he knows she stayed at K'del's, "But after I miscarried," so she must remember having told him that much last night, "I couldn't go back to the dorms right away. I didn't want to keep a whole room of women awake with tears, so he let me stay awhile." The cup is remembered because Tayte fidgets with it now. "He understands, about miscarriages. Iolene lost their baby, before she was murdered." That might not be strictly necessary to relate, but she tells him anyway. H'vier listens, gazed fixed on Tayte. It lacks most of the intensity it might normally have while talking about these sorts of things and he only nods when she's done, turning back to his wardrobe to finish getting dressed. "I don't want it to be over. I don't want this. I want you back. I want my daughter back." But he sounds a little resigned about not getting what he wants. Tayte watches him watching her, taking in his reaction. Then a sigh and some more sips of water once he's turned away. "I don't want it to be over either, Havi. But I don't know what to do. The girls have to be safe and I have to be safe. And like it or not, K'del has to be comfortable with Yvalia living with you if you want us to live with you." If. They're a far cry from where they were on her turnday. "I love you, Havi. I just don't know how to make things work." Maybe these aren't the best things to be saying when she's up in his weyr and needs him to get back to civilization. Once he's dressed, H'vier slips on his boots and kneels to tie one, then the other while he listens. He rises and pushes a hand back through his hair, his version of brushing it, before saying with a brief glance her way, "I know." It pretty much works as a response to everything. Then the bronzerider is heading out to where Reisoth waits for him to put his straps in order, leaving Tayte to the weyr without further comment. It's some moments later when Tayte joins him on the ledge, her hesitant step as much because Rukbat is somehow just so sharding bright today for some reason as because the words that come from her next are a quiet and uncertain, "Are we over for good?" The bronze tilts his head to look at Tayte, but the sound of her voice doesn't pull H'vier's attention away from the rote sort of action that putting on Reisoth's straps has become over the turns. It's a minute or so before there's an answer at all from the bronzerider. "It would be best, wouldn't it? For you? And the girls?" Tayte's eyes slip toward Reisoth then back to the man. "What would be best is if we could be safe with you. If we can't do that, then... I don't know." Which is really 'yes' but she doesn't want to say so. H'vier turns partially to look at Tayte now. "I can tell you you'll be safe until my tongue falls out. But that doesn't mean anything unless you believe it. Do you think you could be safe with me?" "I'd like to think so." Tayte's response is swift. Her hands find each other in front of her and she wrings her hands. "Havi, there are things I haven't told you. Things that might mean I need you to keep me safe." Not just from himself. "I thought my past would stay buried, but..." It isn't. "I don't know if that would change things for you." Of all the things that Tayte has said to him since stumbling into his weyr during the night, this is the first that seems to threaten actually setting him off. Jaw tight, H'vier closes his eyes and takes a slow breath through his nose while Reisoth's attention shifts to his rider. He lets the breath out and turns back to the dragon as he says, "Tayte, if something happened to you, something I could have protected you from," actually, probably just anything, "I would never be able to forgive myself. Whether we're together or not." Tayte moves a few steps toward the bronzerider. "Havi, please, isn't there some way we can work things out? I love you," she sounds as helpless as she probably feels about that. "Can you-- would you-- is there any way you would try to convince-- show--" something, "K'del that Yvalia would be safe living with you?" The question is posed hesitantly for obvious reason. "I would never hurt Yvalia," is a stern response. H'vier might scare her on occasion, sure. And he 'probably would have said he'd never hurt Tayte, either. But that's not the point. "I don't know how I'd be able to convince him of anything. He only knows me from you running to cry on his shoulder every time things get rough." There's annoyance in the words but still no accusation. It's not like he can really blame either of them. He's had a lot of time to think by himself lately. "There has to be a way, please." The please might be directed really more toward the universe at large. "I tell him good things about you, too, you know." Not that there've been many of those lately! "I told him about what a good partner and father you were, all through my pregnancy with Tavi and since--" Until That Time. "Couldn't you... try to talk to him?" Because the last time H'vier and K'del were face to face it went so well. Tayte probably realizes how futile this all sounds. "Yvalia will be old enough to apprentice in five turns." Maybe it's just easier if they wait to move in together for five turns. It's already known that the girl has her eyes on a spot at Harper. "If you want me to talk to him, I'll talk to him." Well, that was easy. H'vier finishes with Reisoth's straps before turning back to Tayte. "That doesn't mean it will change anything." Or that it will end very well if they start fighting again. It's in the weight of his words even if he doesn't, understandably, say as much out loud. Tayte nods, and then steps the rest of the way to him, stopping just in front of him. "I know we need to go now," because he has things to do, "but could we get together sometime to talk?" There's a pause, and then a rush of words, "And may I have a kiss, please?" His mouth opens to answer her first question, but H'vier doesn't manage anything before the second rushes out. There's a hesitation that spans a few heartbeats, then he's moving to wrap his arms around her and kiss her as though there's nothing more he's been wanting to do all this time. Despite her hangover, despite last night, despite everything, Tayte kisses him back in much the same way. It's a way that were it not for those things he has to get to doing might lead them right back into the weyr and encourage some more bad decisions. Her breath his heavy when she finally breaks the kiss. "I mean it when I say I love you, you know." In case he had doubts. "It's hard for me to imagine a life where we're not together, now." Bad decisions are kind of at the forefront of H'vier's mind by the time the kiss breaks and he's protesting with a sound low in his throat. But he doesn't press for more, even if he wants to. There are things he needs to do. "I don't want to imagine a life where we're not together. You're everything to me, Tayte." Reisoth doesn't seem to take that personally. "Then let's find a way, Havi. I know you don't like K'del, but if this is important to you-- if I'm important to you, and our girl, find a way. For us. Be his friend if you have to, or at least show him the you I see," when he's not hitting her, "I want to be with you. I want to live with you, but I can't lose my daughter," much as he doesn't want to lose his. "Everyone has to be okay with this for it to work." Tayte looks up at him pleadingly. Please? "Fine," says H'vier, annoyed by even the idea of being friends with K'del. It's asking an awful lot. Then, more genuinely, "Fine. I'll try. For your and Tavi's sake. Even for Yvalia's sake." Or is that especially for Yvalia's sake? Since she's the major link that will force him to try making nice with the man he'd least like to make nice with. "I know you and Reisoth want his job," Tayte says after a moment of biting her lip, "but he has it, at least for now, so it can't hurt to be in his good graces, can it?" Can it? Maybe it could. She reaches up a hand to lay her palm over his heart. "It means a lot to me that you'll try, Havi. Can I come back later? When your duties are done with and my head doesn't feel like Tavi's pounding on her little drum in there?" There's truth to her words, of course. H'vier would even admit it if he thought to. But she's asking him to come back and that's a bit more important to him. "My weyr is yours, Tayte. You can come and go as you please." He offers a smile, a small one, then shifts into motion, asking, "Are you ready?" Tayte nods, "As I'll ever be." At least, without a few more hours to sleep and some of her personal hangover cure. It's only after they're up in the straps, her leaning back against him more than is strictly necessary that she asks, "Would you have time to walk me to my room and wait while I mix a drink before going about your day?" Perhaps it might seem a strange request if she hadn't mentioned about her past and the possibility of needing his protection. Reisoth shifts under them toward the edge of the ledge, his great long wings mantling in preparation. H'vier has an arm wrapped around Tayte as he says, "I'll make time." He can do that now even more than he could before. Then the bronze drops into a glide off of his ledge to the bowl below.
She's settled on the couch next to him now, each of them with a drink in hand, because this conversation might warrant that, though Tayte had already voiced her stern resolve not to repeat the night before's over-indulgence. The chit-chat is over, and now it's time to speak of more serious things, only Tayte looks anxious and is lacking in words as she looks down at her drink in silence. Much later doesn't seem to bother the bronzerider at all. He's probably just glad that Tayte has actually come back like she'd said she wanted to. Settled on the couch, he's relatively hands off other than an arm around the vintner should she stay close enough to allow it. "What are you afraid of?" he has to ask while he's waiting for her to find whatever she's looking for in her drink. Tayte might've seemed tentative at first, with that arm around her shoulders, but she didn't move away or give indication it wasn't wanted. Now she seems a little more comfortable with it, especially when he asks the question. She takes a deep breath and lets it out. "My past, mostly. I really thought I'd left it all behind when I left Ista." Under those mysterious circumstances that no one's ever cared about before now. "Only... did you decide to find out who Oliwer's someone is?" She cants her head to look up at him, perhaps just curious. "Ista has a way of following you wherever you go," muses H'vier, not sounding particularly happy about the fact. Tayte's past is something of great interest to him, so mention of the healer now has him frowning. He nods just noticeably before taking a drink. Then, "G'laer. Alpine wingrider of green Teisyth. Often Watches at Crom. Lots of sisters." He even says the last without sounding interested in them. He's done some basic homework. She takes another slow breath. It's possible, likely even, that this is more information than Tayte had about the man. "I knew him. At Ista. He... helped me. Us really. Cherie and I. With a problem." The words are delivered haltingly. "I-- saw him help." She licks her lips and swallows hard. Is she making sense? Is he following her meaning? She looks up at him uncertainly. H'vier listens with a neutral sort of intensity. His arm stays relaxed around her as Tayte speaks and he swirls his drink absently with his other hand. "You weren't supposed to," he assumes from the way she says that. "Does any killer set out to have witnesses?" Tayte wonders quietly. Killing to make a point in a public sort of way obviously doesn't occur to her, but then, she's not the sort to think about killing at all, if she can avoid it. "Unintentional witnesses? No. It's sloppy." But that leaves the unspoken question, at least from H'vier's point of view, of whether or not Tayte seeing him 'help' was actually unintentional. His thumb brushes against her shoulder, probably meant to be comforting. "I wasn't supposed to be there." Maybe Tayte means supposed to as in intention of the killer, but more likely she means she was meant to be elsewhere. "He let me go, I think, because at least at the time, peoples memories were fresh and if I turned him in, he could finger me as the-- client, I guess you might call it. Or us." The 'us' is important. It's easy to know just from knowing Tayte that employing the skills of a man like G'laer was not her idea. "Now, the memories are so old, they probably wouldn't remember him - an outsider, a stranger who blends in, but they would still be able to remember me. And Cherie. And-- the man." She doesn't name him, likely intentionally. "What was the problem he helped you with?" This is evidently an important detail for H'vier. Is it that important to what she's trying to tell him? Maybe not. But it seems to matter to him. "Are you thinking about turning him in now? Does he think you're thinking about it?" The first question makes Tayte swallow hard, and she answers the last questions first, so reticent she is to relate the story. "I'm not; I don't think I have leverage on him anymore because it's been so long. It's not like I have any proof. I think he knows I wouldn't. But he could-- me, that is. Whenever he wants." She chews her lower lip. "You remember how Cherie and I were back then? How wild?" There's only a simple, thoughtful nod for what the man could do to Tayte. Should he be more angry? That would be more typical of H'vier. For the rest, there's another nod. "How could I forget?" And would he want to if he could? Probably not even a little bit. Tayte blushes in spite of herself and dips her head to take a sip of her drink. Then, "There was a man that we-- well, you know. Together. And he became sort of-- very obsessed with the both of us. It was worse for me, I think, because I worked at the bar and was so accessible. He saw me flirting and-- well, his temper was worse than yours." One of Tayte's hands drifts to touch one of her cheeks, perhaps a ghost of memory reminding her of the sting. "It got bad. Dangerous. We could've turned him in, I suppose. Only proper channels take time. And it would've meant admitting to-- well, everything. Cherie couldn't have that. And I loved her. So she said someone she knew knew someone who could help. That's when he came." She clears her throat. "They called it a tragic drowning accident. Too many drinks and then..." She shakes her head. "Slipped and fell, hit his head on a rock and went in." So the story goes. It's attentive, the way H'vier listens. He doesn't even take a drink until Tayte's voice leaves an opening. "I think I remember that, actually." The death, not the man's obsession with the woman he now loves. The arm around her shoulders tightens for a moment, a protective squeeze rather than tension. "Was it just you who saw?" Or did Cherie, too? H'vier finishes off the rest of his drink before setting the glass aside. The more important question is, "You're worried that he might turn you in now? Or worse?" He's trying to be objective. "Just me." Tayte murmurs, shifting to lean a little more against him. She worries at her lower lip with her teeth, silent as she obviously tries to decide what, or perhaps how much to tell him. "Tayte," murmurs H'vier, voice calm but serious. "It's not impossible to protect you if I don't know what I'm protecting you from. But it is much more difficult." If nothing else, the bronzerider seems confident that he can protect her, if it comes to her needing it. "You've spoken," he knows that much. "Tell me what happened." Another deep breath is required. Tayte probably thinks to make him promise her that he won't go do something stupid, but she knows better when it's a promise he'd likely have trouble keeping. (But monogamy, no problem! Promise me that!) "The first time it was just that. Speaking. Well, and pinning me, but I suspect that was just to prove a point." She takes a swallow from her cup. "The second time..." She takes a steadying breath and can't bring herself to look at him. A tear slips out of her eye and rolls down her cheek. It's barely more than a whisper when she says, "I should be dead now." There's tension at the mention of pinning, to prove a point or no. But it's Tayte's final words that have the bronzerider shifting like he might get up and find the bastard right this second. "I'll kill him," he rumbles. Then, H'vier changes his mind, "No. No, I'll kill his fucking weyrmate while he watches. And then I'll kill him." That sounds much more satisfying. How did Tayte not see that coming? "Havi, no!" It comes with a gasp. "Killing is what got me into this mess, she's pulling out from under his arm so she can give him a very stern look. "And Oliwer was very kind to me. You leave him out of this." Extra stern. "Please don't kill anyone. I haven't seen him since. He let me go because I was pregnant. But he hasn't been back since..." Deep breath. "I saw Oliwer in the infirmary. He was on duty the day after I..." She doesn't say it. "I was a mess and I told him what happened." "He let you go." Sure. H'vier can admit that. Except, "That doesn't change the fact that he was going to hurt you in the first place, Tayte. Nothing changes that fact. Nobody hurts you and gets away with it." No one but him, evidently. But the bronzerider isn't rising. He's watching the vintner, tense, but he's not completely losing his cool. "He probably told him you aren't pregnant anymore. You aren't--" For some reason he doesn't want to say what he's about to say. Instead, he says, "You should stay here." "Havi, I'm fine, really." The baby's not, but who can say what really causes a miscarriage so early? "I just want things to go back to the way they were before. Pretending like nothing happened." Tayte looks up at him pleadingly. "It's my fault really, all of it. I shouldn't have slept with Oliwer, and then you probably made it worse by punching him, because he probably feels about Oliwer the way you feel about me. If you go after him, you both will end up dead and Oliwer and I... well, we'll have to console one another and you don't want that, right?" Nevermind that then Oli and Tayte would each have the Nice Person they deserve (even if it means awful sex forevermore). "Here isn't any safer than my room, when you're not here. In the dorms there's always someone around." Though she does glance over toward the bed briefly. H'vier looks at that pleading face of Tayte's unhappily. "I didn't threaten, or try, to kill him." Which, of course, isn't entirely true. He did threaten to kill him. But that's between him and the old, gay healer. "But I'll stay here tonight. If you stay here tonight." And can she really refuse that? If she doesn't stay here and make sure he doesn't do something stupid, who will? She takes a deep breath, her eyes now moving ledge-wards. K'del would not be pleased with her, but she nods slowly. "Okay." Tayte starts to shift closer, then stops and pulls back. "No killing." Stern, stern, stern. "Promise me." "Okay." That totally counts as a promise. "We'll stay in. Do you want another drink?" Because damned if H'vier doesn't need another one or four. "Havi." Tayte's looking at him in an accusatory way. "Say it." And if he thinks he's getting up, he can think again (or take her with him), because she's moving to occupy his lap so he can't (in theory). H'vier's getting up one way or the other. He scoops up the blonde as he goes so she's properly in his arms. But the motion, and where they end up, makes him smile at her despite everything she's just told him. "I promise." Tayte had to know this was a possibility when she did it, but it doesn't change the girlish squeal that escapes her as he rises with her. It's either his smile or his promise that makes her smile. "I don't want another drink." She answers softly, and it's probably because of exactly how they are now or maybe just because they're H'vier and Tayte that Tayte continues, "I want you to take me to bed." There's no missing her meaning when she moves to kiss him. The sound H'vier makes against Tayte's lips is a pretty good indication that the bronzerider is okay with this idea. More than okay. It's the best idea anyone's had in a really long time. So screw the drink! H'vier has a Tayte to take to bed. |
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