Logs:Defining Relations
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| RL Date: 17 December, 2015 |
| Who: C'ris, Quinlys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two blueriders have a date. |
| Where: Romantic Hideaway Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lys/Mentions, T'gar/Mentions |
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| A fire burns merrily in the weyr's hearth, well stoked to last for most of the evening. A tray of dinner has been settled onto the worn, blue couch, each dish covered with a bottle of sparkling white wine on the floor beside it with two clean glasses. A single basket of glows hangs by the bed, half-uncovered with the hesitation of the weyr's occupant to bring attention there versus leaving it dark. At the moment, C'ris is finishing lighting the candles that have been replaced in the bathing room, peeking occasionally out of the window, waiting for a woman that he'd invited a sevenday ago, officially, now that his weyr has been cleaned and furnished. Mivength is left outside by necessity of this weyr, but the overhang of the ledge seems to be enough to shelter him happily. Or well, as happily as the blue gets. Official, formal dates continue to be a strange and somewhat uncomfortable thing for Quinlys, though she's gamely giving the whole thing a try; people unwilling to try things are old, and Quinlys is definitely not that. Still, it's clear there's some trepidation in the bluerider when she arrives given the way she pauses to glance up at Olveraeth and press her hand to his nose before he pushes her towards the weyr and takes flight (see, Mivength? Not interrupting for long!). The bluerider's shoulders get drawn back and she turns; if C'ris is peeking, she may well see him now. Good, says the way Mivength's whirling eyes as they lift to Olveraeth as he takes off and he only snorts at Quinlys for her presence still on his ledge before he attempts to just ignore her. C'ris, meanwhile, flushes only slightly when he's caught looking but he quickly disappears from the window cut into the stone there and in a moment, he's striding out to the ledge with a warm, welcoming smile. "Hey, there. Uh, I have a window," he points out, despite the fact that she knows now. He reaches out a hand in offer for hers. "Want a tour of my new weyr?" "Well, I can see that," teases Quinlys, but she's already reached to meet his hand in the middle, letting hers be taken, and she's smiling at him, too; he's allowed, then, to snoop out of his window. "This place is already an improvement over your last. Shells, I haven't even managed to off-load your last to any of the weyrlings." Beat. "Yes, I want the grand tour. Show me everything." C'ris' fingers easily intwine in Quinlys', tangling with a tight squeeze that likely is meant to convey how glad he is to see her, since he doesn't say. Instead, there's that lingering smile even as he defends, "Hey! It was a good, serviceable weyr. You just need to find a practical weyrling that it would appeal to." He will lead the way with a gentle tug into the narrowed cavern, taking her into the passageway that forks right towards the bath. "It's too small for Mivength inside but he doesn't seem upset to stay outside. The overhang protects him, but--." Quinlys' smile, too, may be intended to convey her feelings on being here-- expression emotions verbally is weird, okay? "Oh, sure, it was fine." 'Fine.' Tugged along, she follows without hesitation, turning her head to see the weyr's interior from every angle she can. "I'm surprised, I'd've expected him to complain more-- ooh." Ooh is clearly for the bath she can see ahead, smugness some visible in her expression. "Good choice. I may be jealous." The candles are lit, the bath filled with steaming water for the moment and with-- are there flower petals floating there? Well, maybe they are just supposed to make it smell better or look better. He stops just inside, his fingers loosening in hers in case she wants to pull away to inspect anything more closely. "I was, uh, surprised they let me have it. Not a wingleader or something. Especially with the Weyrwoman's weyr so close, I'd think there'd be someone who'd want--." He doesn't finish that thought, instead quickly adding with a flash of a smile, "You're welcome to come use it anytime." Quinlys does pull away, but only so that she can dip her fingertips into the water, and pick up one of the flower petals, lifting it to her nose to sniff; she seems pleased, amused, and glancing back at the other bluerider, perhaps even delighted. "If someone else had wanted it, they could've asked to move, just like you did. I think it's perfect for you." As for using it, well. An invitation is an invitation! For now, however, she crosses back to him, drawing herself up against C'ris' body as she leans in for a kiss. "You chose well." C'ris' arms slide around Quinlys slowly as she leans against him, pulling her more firmly against him with a smile also slowly pulling at his lips. But then he's meeting that kiss, all gentle warmth and feeling. "I'm glad you like it," he murmurs after a moment. A pause, then: "Do you want to see the rest?" "I suppose I should," allows Quinlys, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "But only because it just happens to be summer right now. If it were winter... there'd be no getting me out of that bath, I'm just saying." She's all dimples by the end of that, leaning in to capture another kiss (if only a quick one; passionate makeouts are for later) before she draws back, gesturing towards the passage. "Lead on, good sir." "I will remember that come winter and be prepared," promises C'ris, with the easy assumption that this will still be happening then, perhaps. But he is happy to meet that kiss, to tangle his fingers in hers again as he leads her out of the bathroom and down the other fork. On the short journey, he tells (warns?) her, "I sent for dinner from the kitchens and I-- went to Benden." Quinlys' low laugh for the mention of winter may or may not have something to do with that assumption, or maybe it's just something else entirely. She twines her fingers around C'ris' as she lets him lead the way, head turned sidelong to allow her to glance at him as he speaks. "Did you." She's laughing again, lightly. "You're well prepared. I like that." "I've heard the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach," he teases, warmth flowing easily in his tone as those brown eyes meet hers with a sparkle of humor. But reluctantly C'ris draws his fingers from hers again when they reach the main cavern, so that he can move directly in a line towards that bottle of bubbling white wine and start working at the topper. "This is the last room of the tour. Bigger, but-- Still a weyr." A pause. Quinlys smiles in answer to that tease, but there's a hesitation there, too, one that she doesn't verbalise until she's moved into the cavern properly, her arms crossed, now, beneath her breasts. "And that's where you're aiming," she supposes, not without humour but certainly with an edge to it that is more wry. "Most men-- and women-- find it easier to go spelunking between my legs, instead." The cork manages to pop at just that moment to accent Quinlys' supposition, wine bubbling over his hand only somewhat as C'ris flushes and stares at Quinlys. And then he admits, quietly, "Yes. I figured after-- I thought you knew. I don't want just to fuck you, Quinlys." That blush only deepens for that. "Not that I don't want to--." He gives up, instead pouring a glass and extending it towards her so that she'd have to come closer as he asks, "Where are you aiming?" "I know," is an admission Quinlys seems reluctant to make. "I mean, I knew. And I still knew. It's just..." She steps forward, accepting the glass with a brush of her fingers past his. "I'm just still getting my head around it. Not just that that's what you want. That... I'm letting you try." "For how long?" is almost a sad thing, a quiet challenge that C'ris has to offer; he can't not. "How long do I have to try?" He doesn't move to pour his own glass, too wrapped up in watching her and waiting as if his own heart might hinge on that answer. It makes Quinlys freeze. It makes her expression fall. "I don't know," she admits, finally. "I'm trying, C'ris. I want..." She pauses again. "I like you. You're sweet and kind and funny and... and some part of me wants to know what it's like, to be someone's focus. To... have that. But I can't make promises. I'm willing to try and make this work, but I don't know that it will. I don't know that it won't, either, just..." C'ris nods simply, so simply to accept her answer without any pressure in turn. And then he finally moves to pour his own glass, taking a bracing sip before he tells her, "I don't think I can come back to helping with the weyrlings until-- after. Until after we figure this all out and we know what it will mean." It still is not meant to pressure anything, especially as he only adds regretfully, "I am sorry." "No." Quinlys' uncertainty is abruptly-- and firmly-- gone. "Don't you dare apologise, C'ris. You're going after what you want; and you should. It's probably sensible, you not coming back to the weyrlings. For now. I understand. I even support it. I'll even keep looking after Beastly for you." She lifts her free hand, now, aiming to touch it to C'ris' wrist. "For now, let's just... see where this goes, all right?" C'ris' free hand curves over hers, trapping it against his wrist with a soft smile. "Thank you, for Beastly and for understanding," he says so lightly. "And-- Well, we're supposed to be celebrating, right? My weyr?" His agreement to 'see where it goes' seems to come in the soft re-direction of those questions, even as he adds with a brighter smile, "So, what do you think of it?" He knows what she thinks of the bathroom, but this question is paired with a gesture around this main cavern. "That dog..." wormed his way into Quinlys' heart, not that she's admitting it, not right now. It's easier to raise her glass for a toast and to say, "I like it a lot. It's cozy. It suits you." Beat. "And I think your bed might actually be big enough for two, now, which is a definite improvement." And that is, plainly, an important part of 'see where it goes.' "I found it in the stores. I think, uh--." He doesn't finish that sentence. It is probably nothing Quinlys wants to hear, anyways. Instead, C'ris recovers to offer, "I still probably could use-- something. It feels kind of bare in here, but maybe because of all the space." He clinks his glass lightly against hers, taking another careful sip before nodding towards the covered tray. "Are you hungry? It's the same as what they served at dinner, but." Quinlys gives the weyr another glance and then says, "Mmm. Maybe. I'll see if I can't find something to add. Something--" She stops, then, turning back to face C'ris. "No," she decides. "I'm not hungry. I'd rather..." Her hand begins sliding up his arm. Her mouth turns up on one side; a smugly crooked smile. "Warm this weyr." "It will keep for later, with the cover," decides C'ris at that, taking a quick swallow of his white wine and then reaching to take her glass away as well to set them both aside carefully. (Hey, they might want more later.) Only after does he reach for her, his hand curving gently at the base of her spine. And he seems ready, except that he murmurs, checking, "Are you sure you want--?" Quinlys gives C'ris a look, as if to say: are you fucking kidding me. And that's when she takes matters into her own hands, the fingers of one hand beginning to unbutton his shirt while the other wraps around his shoulders, fingers twining in his hair as she leans in for a kiss... and this time, it's not the kind of kiss one ends quickly. Look, it never hurts to check~ But C'ris is quick to respond as Quinlys takes matters in hand, a healthy response of desire swelling quickly in the bluerider. The fingers against the small of her back tighten, pulling her closer before he lifts her only to pace across the room to the bed and set her down there. And soon, he is tangling his own hands beneath her clothes, to shed what is between them and seeking skin. His kisses are long and lingering, and his touch not exactly inexperienced but not practiced. Quinlys' little squeal as she gets picked up is amused, and pleased, and perhaps a little surprised, as if she didn't expect that kind of initiative. It's pretty clear that she's well-versed not only in the art of undressing another (and herself) but also the rest; she knows what she wants (and she's not shy about getting it), but she's also interested-- and intently focused-- on finding out what works for C'ris, too. She's, uh, also not very quiet-- or, at least, not until afterwards, when, sweat-covered and satiated, she curls her body up against the other bluerider's, one foot hooked around his ankle. There's a certain way in which C'ris fits himself so carefully, protectively around Quinlys, even in the way that he tucks that brightly knitted blanket around them (that his mom made) to cover them both that speaks to-- well, something. He doesn't fall asleep or anything like it, his fingers running slowly through red locks with a soft, repetitive caress. "Are you--," he starts in a murmur, pausing. "Are you pleased?" "No, I'm absolutely heartbrokenly disappointed," Quinlys quips, blue eyes full of obvious amusement as she focuses her attention upon the other bluerider. "No, don't be silly. Of course I'm pleased." She does seem it: there's something calmer and more relaxed about her, something that seems very much to appreciate that protectiveness (and probably that blanket, too, even if she's clearly not shy about her body). "I've been waiting a long time to do that, remember." A laugh escapes from between C'ris' lips in a sigh, his mouth curving into a small, satisfied smile of his own at her answer. "Me too," admits the other bluerider quietly, his fingers curving in her hair so that he can brush a soft kiss against her nose and then the curve of her brow and then her temple with careful movements. "But I just-- want to make you happy. Are you happy?" Didn't he just ask that? Apparently not. It's probable that Quinlys' world of random hookups and booty calls doesn't involve a great deal of post-coital cuddling and soft kissing; that she's amused by this is obvious from her expression, though it's equally true that she's not pulling away from it. It's... sweet. Maybe sweet is good. "C'ris," she says, smiling. "I'm happy. And you're happy. So things are good, right? And in a little bit we can get up and rescue that wine and take a bath and... happy. Okay?" "Good, good," C'ris confirms, a sigh of what could be relief as he presses yet another soft kiss, this time against her cheek. "I just-- want you to know that you could tell me, if you weren't. That I would listen." But he is quick to move on, to confirm with a light, "Whatever you want, Quinlys." He isn't in any hurry to get up, however, as the arm curved around her tightens to pull her closer. "I know," murmurs Quinlys, snuggling up against C'ris' warmth despite the warmth of this summer evening. It's then that she adds, "Some people call me Q, you know. Or Quin. Just not Lys, because that would be... odd. I mean, if you wanted to." The words are lazy, but there's a more intent look in her eyes; she may be content not to move, but she's evidently comfortable continuing to talk. "Yeah, I don't-- I agreed to help her study in my spare time and that would make it-- awkward," C'ris agrees, the bare brush of amusement mingling with that awkwardness as he smiles. His fingers tangle in her hair again, as he adds quickly, "I haven't told her. About us. Or any of the weyrlings, like we said. But it came up that I wouldn't be-- going back and I couldn't tell her why." A pause, a hint of a smile. "Quin." Awkward. Quinlys' nose wrinkles, though whatever has prompted it isn't serious enough to disturb her contentment. "I'm sorry that you had to... obscure. I don't want you to have to lie. It's... I mean, the fact that I quarantined myself after you got sick must have told them something, though maybe they just assumed we shared a glass. It's--" She chews at her lip, uncertain and thoughtful. "You don't have to lie for me, Ris." C'ris should really address that between them; what they can and can't share and with whom. But it's the last word that catches the bluerider off-guard and there's a hint of a crooked grin as he repeats, "Ris? That's-- No one's ever shortened my name to Ris before. C'ris is already so short--." But he doesn't seem to mind. He might not mind anything Quinlys would call him. "I didn't lie but--. It's your choice. They are your weyrlings. I've told others but... They are your weyrlings." "Really?" Quinlys seems surprised-- genuinely so. "Quinlys isn't really much longer, but... well. I've decided, anyway." It's a good thing he doesn't mind, because the weyrlingmaster does appear to have made up her mind. Of those weyrlings, "Half of them will be in the other half's weyrs right about now, probably. It's fine. Not that... not that I want you to go out of your way to tell them. But if it comes up. It's fine. Actually, I'd half like to see what T'gar would do with the information." She's smirking, abruptly. "Kadlia wasn't much for--." C'ris catches himself before he continues that conversation, flushing slightly before he presses a quick kiss to Quinlys' lips. Only to draw away with a questioning look, surprised and light as he asks, "T'gar?" Mention of that name doesn't bother Quinlys-- and any comment she might have had about her is swallowed back beneath that kiss, quick though it is. The surprise, however, gives the bluerider a moment's hesitation. "T'gar has a thing for me," she says, simply. "Flirting, mostly. It's a game, that's all." "Oh. But he's a-- weyrling," replies C'ris, like the bright man that he is. And there's a moment of possessiveness on the bluerider's part, those fingers in her hair curving into a brief if loose fist around those strands of red curls. But then they loosen into another soft brush through as he adds, "For now, at least. He might move on before graduation, but he might-- not." Quinlys' eyes display a moment of surprise, and then they soften; again, she's amused. "He's also more than a decade younger than me, and... C'ris, Ris, I don't have plans to sleep with him. He's my student, and even when he graduates..." She presses one hand to his hip, a gentle gesture. "I imagine... monogamy outside of flights is the go, isn't it. While we try this." C'ris quietly contemplates that for a moment, his soft brown eyes sliding down almost as if drawn by the press of her hand before meeting her gaze again. And he answers carefully, "I would like that, Quin. I don't want anyone else and I won't--. But if that isn't what you'd want, I will not hold you to it." And he softens that with a smile, a gesture to convince her, maybe, that he means it. A slow, careful nod follows. "I don't know," she admits. "I don't... have anyone important, I mean, in the emotional sense. But traditionally, most of my partners have been women and..." C'ris is not, very obviously. "But I will try. If I'm going to try this, I need to try it properly. I won't sleep with T'gar, and I won't go... cruising for anything, I can promise that." "If you want to--," C'ris murmurs carefully, but there is a certain pleasure he must find in that answer as as he claims a long, slow kiss from the bluerider. And, he must be not as nice as everyone says since he adds after, "Can I tell T'gar that, then? And about us." Surely, he will intimidate the bronzerider to back off~~ Quinlys leans in to that kiss, all amusement set aside (briefly; temporarily) to enjoy the immediate pleasures of such physical contact. It's after, and in response to that last comment, that amusement really takes over: she nearly chokes on her own laughter. "Yes," she says. "Yes, you can. In fact," she begins to move, now, rolling herself on top of C'ris, just like that. "I encourage it. But for now..." Surely C'ris is young and virile enough for round two, because clearly this conversation has made sure Quinlys is. C'ris is. Perhaps eventually, they will drag themselves out of that bed to claim the wine and enjoy the bath that the bluerider has gone to so much trouble to procure, but for now-- Well, he is intent on perhaps making sure Quinlys is very happy so that she won't need to worry about her usual partners. |
Comments
Alida (22:59, 17 December 2015 (PST)) said...
- peeks in and gigglers to self*
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