Logs:Defensive
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 8 November, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Solith's risen. Reisoth's caught her. Three days later, Tayte and Telavi... talk? |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 3, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, J'vain/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
  |
| Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor, and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook. Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
It's nigh on an hour that Telavi's been here, the greenrider making her way up to the bar to request a drink of Tayte, something open yet wry in those greener-today eyes, like she's not just asking for a drink. Since then she's been making it last, settled at one of the tables that escape the patio's periodic draft, close enough that she's not hard to keep track of from the bar; her chatter with the others is animated but idle, nothing she can't leave on short notice. Nor is her skirt terribly short today, but then there's the weather to keep in mind, her hair coiled into braids that keep the back of her neck warm even above the raised collar of her blouse. Sometimes, Tayte's exit is immediate, a friendly farewell to those still working and off to do other things, but tonight she trades marks for a glass of wine and makes her way toward an unoccupied booth, passing near, but not too near Telavi's table, glancing toward the whiskey blonde without readily readable expression. She slides onto a seat and brings the drink to her lips for a sip before placing it carefully on the tabletop and turning it a quarter turn to the right. Maybe it's secret code. Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just for any observers that-- after the count of three-- Telavi turns her glass a quarter turn to the left, thrice, and does a complicated figure-eight with her pinky before getting to her feet. She makes her way towards the other blonde, not jaunty enough to be a real saunter, and when she gets there, leans one hip against the stalagmite that separates the booths without quite touching. "May I?" "Mm." Tayte's sound isn't as encouraging as the nod that answers the question. Her eyes are on her wine glass until the greenrider is moving to sit. Then ocean gaze follows the woman intently. Before Telavi has a chance to start the conversation as she might like it, the golden blonde tresses are falling to one side as she cants her head and asks, "So, how did you like him?" If it's a trap, there's no indication in her tone. That catches Tela by surprise, widened eyes and the bemused purse of lips; she takes a purposeful sip of wine and says, "More polite than I'd have expected." Next! "Not actually an answer to my question." Tayte's not letting her off so easy. She waits. "It's not?" Tela's brows draw in, but with the wiggle that says perplexed rather than pissed. "He was fine?" Fine as in okay-- sorry, H'vier-- and not fiiiiine. "That's closer. Only the questioning tone leaves me wondering if you're saying that just so I won't hate you forever for fucking him in dragon lust." Beat. "And after." Tayte's brow quirks as she lifts her glass toward her lips. It's a request for confirmation or denial, but silently. "Oh! No, I'm not worried about that; it's not like it was on purpose," which apparently means that Telavi believes that, on some level, Tayte functions on logic. "There wasn't any after." Sigh. "You must have wanted to," Tayte points out after a ginger sip. "He's vexingly good in bed, isn't he." It's not really a question. She knows the answer. He's the habit she's been trying to quit for months. "Well, yes-- the first part, anyway-- but I knew his name by then," and with that, Telavi just rolls her eyes. "Quinlys was fun for after. It would've been fun. But of course Olveraeth wasn't there," said darkly, like someone planned it just to spite her. "Well, she is your boss now." Tayte points out without putting much more thought into it. "Maybe she thought that would make it too messy." Beat. "Or maybe it was just bad timing." But Quinlys isn't the point here. "He wanted to, didn't he." He is H'vier after all. "My boss and sets a high bar," Telavi says wistfully. "I like to think it was bad timing," but then she would, wouldn't she. After that, a pro forma 'mmm' which, well. It's not intended to fool anyone, just not say it. "Maybe it would be lower if you could convince her it would be fun and not messy." Tayte points out, "You know, late at night... When the weyrlings are abed..." She shrugs her shoulders, a small smile cracking over the edge of her wine glass. Then, "Telavi." Firm. She needs to know. Not just have it implied. "No! Oh, no. High bar in the sense that she's good, not, mm, accessibility. Even a greenrider," and Telavi says that with a twist that transforms could-be bitterness into play, "can have standards." She gives Tayte a contemplative look, and she could be firm back, but. Well. Tayte's her chum. H'vier not so much, even though these things do come back to bite a girl. "You're sure you want me to say it? Because if I say it then you officially know and it's harder to overlook," if Tayte knows what Tela means. Tayte's sigh slips out and fogs the glass of the cup. "Yes. I'm sure. I haven't--" Another puff of warm mist on the glass. "I deserve better, don't I? I can't see any other way to get my heart less tied up in things than to see it." Instead of overlook it. Quinlys, for the moment, despite her prowess, is forgotten. Woe. "Fine." And with that, Tela rips off the bandage. "Yes, he did." Wasn't that easy? Except her expression softens, and she unthinkingly reaches over to try and pat Tayte's hand. "But it is a flight, you know," said from Tela's vast experience of, oh, twice, because her green firelizard's surely don't count. "It's not like picking someone up here." Though Tela could claim she's just that irresistible, she's also just not going there. "He does that anyway." Tayte sighs longer this time, rippling the surface of the wine before she takes a long drink. "At least he tries to do it when I'm not around. And it's not like we're exclusive." But that's really the problem. Beat. "Asshole." It's an annoyed use of the term. Tela sips too, out of solidarity, at least once she's done wincing. "'Tries to.' Oh, Tah. You may not be exclusive, but that doesn't mean he has to rub it in." She starts to sip again, then pauses, glass still dangerously tilted. "Can I call him a jerk," in lieu of 'asshole,' "or will that make you want to defend him?" "Probably best not to chance it." It would be funny, if Tayte weren't frowning. "He's not rubbing it in." See? Defending. "It just happens that I work at the local pick-up spot and that enough people are aware of our once-together-and-sometimes-on-again-off-again-state," Fewer know about the baby. But they've not really been subtle about leaving together, "That I hear everything he does when he's in here. Well, everything noteworthy enough to notice." Being a well-liked bartender does earn informants. "I just wish I could feel comfortable rolling around with someone else." Available. "Anyone else." Available. She sighs again, and sips at her wine. Tela's brows do that quirky thing that suggest she's spotted that defending, all right, and apparently the frowning doesn't entirely put her off humor. And while Tayte hadn't said it out loud, "Informants. I like it. Even if it's awkward. But... wait." Her lashes have swept wide as she takes a good long look at Tayte, sitting forward on the edge of the bench now. "No one else? No one else at all? And it's been how long?" She doesn't feel the other blonde's forehead or anything, but then Tayte is older than she is. "Nine months." Tayte admits and then polishes off the wine in her glass. It's far too much at once to be considered dainty. "I asked him if he wanted to have a child with me. About a month ago." This admission obviously calls for another drink, so her blue eyes aren't looking at Tela but rather at one of the servers to draw his attention. The greenrider's hand curves over the lower half of her face, littlest finger curling beneath her chin. "Oh," Tela murmurs, and glances towards the server too. "Let me cover this one," unless Tayte's going for the more expensive drinks in the bar presumably, "and let's make it two. Nine months just him, that's... that's close to a baby right there," as though gestation were a unit of time like a sevenday. All Tayte wants is another glass of wine. Maybe she has hopes that she won't need to gulp this one down. Once the server is away, she nods. "It is." Then, "He said no." Well, he didn't really say the word 'no.' But what he said ended up with things being complicated. "Or at least not now. And H'vier is H'vier so I shouldn't really expect anything different, but..." She shakes her head. Apparently, she did even when she shouldn't. Telavi, sympathetic, right down to the echoing frown and the regretful nod for but; even if she mightn't buy into the benefits of Tayte's quest, Tayte wants it, and evidently that's good enough. Only, uncharacteristically diffident, "Do you... really, really want a baby? Or do you really, really want his baby? Or do you want... to be in a family with him? Most?" "I-" Tayte has to stop because this topic is hard. "I want another baby someday. Not right now today. I'm not ready to try again. But he was-- it made him better, me carrying our child. He was sometimes a downright gentleman." She doesn't say it loudly, of course. Couldn't have that detail getting around to ruin his spotless reputation as a total cad. "I don't really know what I want." She admits before the server returns with the wine. Once it's there, her hand is waving. "Anyway. He's an ass and doesn't deserve our conversation time. How are things going for you?" Other than the whole recent flight thing, obviously. Telavi can smile at the server, and it's usual enough for her to settle her tab at the end, but she can't swap topics just like that; "Maybe for him to be around while you figure it out?" She lifts her wine glass in silent toast, or perhaps it's to encourage Tayte's. Then, when she finally does wind up giving Tayte what she seems to want, "How are they going for me. How are they going for me. Clearly, if I help Quinlys do this again, I need to recruit someone else who's even more junior than me. And younger, too. J'vain's sweet, but it would be nice not to be the newest, you know?" "Maybe." Tayte fingers the curves of her wineglass, expression uncertain. But it doesn't seem like she's going to try to delve into that aloud just now. Her eyes drift back up to Telavi's face as she speaks of what, for Tayte, is doubtlessly an easier topic. "Well, you've got Hraedhyth's group up-and-coming. And then the younger ones from Iesaryth's. Maybe you should teach them like they have to be your co-workers. Might give you more motivation to teach them. Not that you don't have plenty of motivation. Pleasing Quinlys for example." Tayte's smile pulls into something teasing, dimples showing. "'Like they have to be.' I don't want anyone who feels like they have to be my co-worker, my wingmate, anything." It starts out light, and circles back to that only on the very last syllable. Tela glances away, sips, and by then it's easier to look back with widened, transparently ingenuous eyes. "Why, Tayte, I see your dimples all of a sudden." What big teeth you have! "Do we really want to get into pleasing Quinlys?" like they're discussing an appetizer on the menu. Tayte waves a hand, "I didn't really mean have to be. I meant more like have as in you have to have them as co-workers." Maybe the bartender misses the implications. Or maybe she's just not addressing them right now. Instead dimpled smile turns to smirk. "We might. Did I tell you she was my hero some many months back?" "So basically, train them like I'd want them to be if I had to work with them, instead of-- or at least, instead of just-- to some more-nebulous 'Dragonrider Standard,'" Telavi air-quotes. "Is that what you do with apprentices? And... no! I don't believe you did." She props her chin on the heel of her hand: carry on! "Nah. I don't care that much." Tayte answers honestly. "Being a vintner is my fall back when I'm too old and haggard to make good tips tending bar." Just don't tell the Hall. "I was checking out some of the local bars and there was this awful man trying to convince me to settle down on an ovine farm and bear him six strapping sons. I saw her, recognized her and pretended I was there to meet her. She played along and then we had a lovely evening of heavy drinking." Good times. Telavi's surprised into a laugh, not that that's so hard. "It's nice to have one of those," she agrees. "And-- did she really, that's wonderful. I'm half-surprised he didn't offer to take you both on... or did he? Maybe one of you could," but she stops there, settling for a half-apologetic dimple of her own. "No. He was thankfully more traditional than that. Sometimes, being in a Holder area has advantages." Few, probably, at least according to Tayte. "But she saved me from being forced to offend the locals." Which was kind. "And from having to drink alone." Tayte sips on the wine thoughtfully, the conversation, at least from her end, tapering off for the moment. Well, then. "To Quinlys," Telavi lifts her glass in toast, gives Tayte a quick smile, and keeps on keeping the other woman from having to drink alone-- at least until these glasses are done. |
Leave A Comment