Logs:Do I Know You?
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 21 August, 2014 |
| Who: G'then, K'zin, Sasha, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Benden Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin learns a lot about Telavi's past. He's really shockingly mature about it. |
| Where: Benden Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'var/Mentions, Wakina/Mentions, Zakari/Mentions, Zianarius/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Not as much angst as one would imagine, actually. Back-dated. |
  |
| "Do I know you?" Closer up, his sandy blond hair reveals silver at the temples; the bluish-hazel eyes in that long, narrow face reveal little more, but then the lighting here in the caverns isn't great. His voice isn't unfriendly, at least, so that's something. It's less the questions and more the admission made necessary by them at this point that has K'zin's cheeks flushing with a blush. "Sorry, my dragon only now chooses to inform me that I screwed up on the timezones and I'm early." And may also have previously told him Tela was just running late. "K'zin, sir," suddenly awkwardly formal. "Telavi's... Uh." Did Tela tell him how she's spoken of him to her uncle? He suddenly can't remember and the mental recordskeeper is not helping! This is going to go well. Though expected, he's unexpected this early; G'then's got a slight chuckle for the time zone situation-- K'zin's already impressing him with something, anyway! "Telavi's, right," he says, his economical one-handed gesture standing in for the 'uh': K'zin's thus saved from specifying and having it go unqualified. The bluerider's Benden accent is thicker than Tela's had started out, but not by a whole lot; he has a badge sewn neatly to the shoulder of his also-tidy short-sleeved shirt. "Why don't you have a seat, as long as you don't mind me finishing up," he adds, voiced as a genuine question. There are no greens anywhere on his plate, though possibly some might have sneaked in and been eaten earlier; there are a couple sweets perched on the edge, out of range of what's left of the slice of roast that he's currently sopping up with his bread. "Not at all," K'zin smoothly picks up the lifeline offered (it's like he's got experience!) and settle into a seat. "Sorry for intruding so early. I can poke around and try to stay out of trouble if my being here is a bother." "That's all right," is not only the logical thing to say but also, conveniently, genuine enough. Telavi's uncle swipes a napkin over his mouth and has some wine before he comes up with anything more; if he'd prepared a list of possible topics ahead of time in case of silence, at least he isn't now consulting his notes. "So I understand you helped some folks out Nabol way?" Not just, implies his cordial tone, the sort of wagon-righting or medicine-delivering any sweeprider might do. That choice of topic catches K'zin enough by surprise to have him answering more formally than he probably intended. "Yes, sir, though that was turns ago now. We've not had much opportunity to check back with Rasavyth's accident and the recovery period." Long. So long the tone implies, but if G'then knows about Nabol, he doubtlessly knows about the rest. "Helping people out like that is easy, really. Just time spent. I'm not sure I could do the sort of charity you did, taking Tela in like you did." He's awkward a moment. "Damn glad you did, sir. Wouldn't want her any other way." His cheeks have color in them for saying so, for expressing that awkward gratitude, but it's certainly a genuine comment. "Hard thing for a pair," G'then says with a nod. A man of the right age could talk about Fall, here, about friends lost and scars suffered; G'then doesn't go near that. He just shifts in his seat, followed by his half-smile that meets the younger rider's lack of self-congratulation. It might be approval, were he more of a judge; as it is, it's more like appreciation. Then he just hears K'zin out, partway along reaching to rub the small of his own back. He exhales; he doesn't thank K'zin, only bows his head a moment before putting both hands down. "So she told you. I... was that her word, charity, or yours?" He asks it uncertainly, like it's important, though not like he's hunting for a specific answer. K'zin is often oblivious, but this time not as much as others. "Mine," is answered with a touch of self-consciousness, "Is it the wrong one? She'd said you took her in when she could as easily have grown up just another 'brat in the caverns." Well, she hadn't said that exactly, but what good is it being someone's boyfriend if you don't get to embellish on what they've said to you? The older man shrugs uncomfortably, though when he meets K'zin's gaze, his own is direct as long as it lasts. "I suppose I did do that, but I wasn't looking to be charitable, you know?" Probably it got him extra credit with certain people, and less with others, and just as probably G'then didn't notice any of that. "She's family, even if she was so little I didn't know what to do with her. They had to show me how to rock her so she wouldn't cry as much, even. You have to sort of sway while you're standing up, and bob at the same time," and then he just winds up chuckling at the absurdity of it. "I wouldn't know any better than you did then. It seems-- well, the kind of thing that takes a lot of patience and dedication at any rate." K'zin is blundering a little now, because he's not meaning to offer compliments or flatter, he's just can't likely imagine being responsible for another life. He looks awkwardly down at the other man's plate, and it can be seen on his face that he thinks of commenting on the food there and then rules that out as stupid conversation. "Seems that you sorted it all out well enough?" With the whole baby and the rocking thing. "Doubt you're much older than I was then," G'then supposes. "I didn't have a whole lot of patience either," though Telavi might beg to differ, or maybe it's that he'd developed more patience by the time she was old enough to remember. "But see, it wasn't just me, I didn't have her anywhere near all the time. She had to eat-- here, have one if you want," and he slides the sweets-side of his plate closer. "Anyway, I couldn't do that for her, and Thread was still falling." It can't be said that K'zin immediately politely declines the sweets, because he has to look at them a few more beats than is strictly polite before saying, "Shouldn't ruin my supper." Like he's quoting. Perhaps he thinks its better not to deprive Telavi's uncle of the sweets. Maybe he'll need those kinds of points later if he starts tasting foot. "It seems like it would've been harder, to really be a parent with Thread falling. Not that I'm sure people didn't make their best efforts when so inclined, of course. But-- I mean, I sort of grew up some in the caverns at 'Reaches. I was an apprentice by then but still young and took some minding when duties were done. Seemed like they had things sorted in terms of how to handle those of us without our own parents to raise us." His hands flex, unseen, on his knees. Well, then G'then will just have to start in on one of the sweets. The other one can sit there on the plate's edge, all lonely, like it's making up its mind whether to jump. He's nodding, now, as he chews. "Definitely. Glad to hear they did right by you, too." There's no particular notice paid of parents, the way there might have been if he'd heard stories of K'zin's. "I was pretty young when I got Searched here, and the weyrlingmaster called a whole lot of things coddling, but that's the way it was." His shrug is philosophical. "They needed Toraveth's flame." Being a rider does carry a sort of kinship in common experiences, so K'zin is really just starting to look comfortable as he says, "Well, can't say I'm surprised. Weyrlingmasters do seem to lack a sense of humor. Maybe it's one of the things they look for in their recruits," nevermind that his ... uh ... is just one such recruit. At least G'then is more helpful than G'var had been, not only his eyes widening but his hand lifting in a gesture towards K'zin... except for the part where it's not really towards K'zin, but toward the blonde behind him. And at least Telavi doesn't wait to make her presence known-- maybe she's learned her lesson?-- instead flumping onto the seat next to her ass bronzerider with a swish of skirts. "I completely agree," she says dourly, even if her dimples do show when she reaches to snag G'then's remaining sweet. "No fun at all-- mmm. Thank you." K'zin visibly jumps when Telavi settles next to him and his cheeks color appropriately. Perhaps the taste of foot is too overwhelming for words because he swallows hard and then leans with the intention of depositing a quick peck on the greenrider's cheek, "You look beautiful." This last is quite sincere, even if the timing is highly suspect. "I got my times mixed up." And, "Ras didn't tell me until I was here," which means a great deal more than what is said if Telavi picks up on that just at this moment. Tela gives K'zin a sidelong look, a smile-- if one that has to survive a certain tenseness when he brings up what his dragon's been up to, something that has G'then giving them a closer look-- and the other half of the sweet in the palm of her hand before him. Well, no, it's really more like a third. "Toraveth passed it along. Have you been telling him awful stories, uncle?" G'then, deadpan: "Dreadful." He looks at K'zin now like he might call on the younger man to back him up, but then takes it easy on him instead. "Kind of Toraveth," since evidently Rasavyth didn't perform the same kindness. There's true gratitude in the look he gives G'then, though it's brief. "Dreadful?" K'zin chimes in, looking quite as though he at least half believes. "Surely not. I've yet to hear anything that constitutes as parental blackmail." He lets his playfully dubious glance slide over them both before telling Tela as almost an aside, "If he can't do better, you can forget about meeting Zakari," who, since his father is dead and his mother didn't really raise him, is probably the one with the most brotherly blackmail of the sane ilk." "He probably can't," Telavi says brightly, jumping in before her uncle, who doesn't seem particularly discommoded; indeed, something about his patience might suggest he's used to it. For some reason. "I don't know, K'zin," G'then says now, taking it slow. "Let's see. There's the little girl running around in a shift with skinned knees, we've already covered the baby," he gets a look from Telavi that only sharpens when he continues, "but not Lala or actually," time to change course. "Zakari, that's not a name I know." "If he's related to you, I'm sure he can." K'zin is quick to counter when his Zakari baiting failed to have the desired effect. He looks like he might be ignoring Telavi's looks when he asks interestedly, "Lala? Do go on." He smiles one of his innocently charming smiles. "Zakari is my oldest brother. I suspect Tela could ask any of my brothers for blackmail, but only with Zak or maybe Kina could she trust that they're true and unbiased." That riposte got K'zin a look of his own, if an amused one, but when Lala's brought up again... Tela just huffs and leans her head against his shoulder. G'then certainly grins as though he's not the latest recipient of the next best thing to lasers. "True, unbiased, but they'd still give it to her? Lala... don't give me that look either, girl. I have to give him something, you know that." It doesn't mean he doesn't give her a moment. To K'zin again, explaining but having to stop now and again rather than possessing the polish of a born raconteur or even an oft-told story, "When she was little, really little. Her name was a really long word, for a little girl? But she could say 'La.' And then 'Lalalalala,' and did even when she could say the rest. And then, I don't know how early your harpers worked with the littles, but we had one that had ideas about starting them young..." Telavi's been restless through this, shifting at times like she's going to break in, and now she mutters a couple syllables under her breath. "...and, of course, he started them learning songs with syllables. She was so delighted to have everyone singing her name." G'then's gaze has drifted to the now-greenrider in question, as though he might be seeing the little tyke right now. "Of course. If she wanted to know, though neither of those brothers could be accused of an abundance of tongue." The bronzerider fills in of his own adorable anecdotes. K'zin laughs, warmly. She knew he would, didn't she? She's rewarded for her patience and silence by a deeply affectionate smile. "Lala." He commits the word and the story to memory. She'll be hearing this later, perhaps even sung in a terribly toneless baritone. Something about his phrasing has Tela stifling a cough, or a giggle, in a way that sounds more like a hiccup; G'then's own expression grows momentarily bemused. "Just as well for your sake, I think," he offers politely. That smile of K'zin's, though, if the bronzerider had tried to get on his good side, that might have done it right there; undoubtedly it will help that the song won't be for him. His niece peeks up at K'zin, then-- through her fingers-- to her uncle; "Maybe," with that 'a' so very drawn out, "I should leave you two to it." K'zin calls her bluff with a grin. "Well, we were managing before you got here. And who knows what he might feel at liberty to tell me if you're not here to steer the conversation." His wide-eyed blinks are entirely too innocent to be believed. "And then, of course," he directs to G'then, "there's our injured feelings and feelings of abandonment that she'll have to mollify for turns to come. Sounds like she'd be making an awful lot of work for herself, wouldn't you say?" Obviously he's teasing the greenrider they both adore. G'then might glance awkwardly at Telavi's shoulder at first, but K'zin's handling it, and then he's laughing in a quiet sort of way. "That's right," he supports. "Turns. Far too much work for a girl like yourself." Only his niece-- who's slid a hand under the table to reach for K'zin's-- says, brows drawn in but her voice carefully cheerful, "What's that supposed to mean?" G'then tries to reply, "Well, a high-flying girl--" and then he just stops, awkward all over again, looking from her to K'zin like that will help somehow. Sure. K'zin will help. "An indolent, lazy, easiest-path-through-the-wilds--" But he's grinning cheekily at the blonde woman, leaning as to nudge her shoulder, a silent check to see if this level of teasing is still 'okay' or if he's going a bit far, for all that they all know it's not the least bit true. Telavi certainly puts on a smile. "I won't argue the other two if you take out the lazy," she says, still smiling, though when she goes to nudge K'zin back, she keeps with the leaning; likely she knows, but... That's when G'then attempts to break in. "It's good to see her more regularly again," he says to K'zin, right where Telavi can hear him say it. "When you both were weyrlings, you couldn't travel much early on of course, and it didn't seem like I should look in too much. You're grown people and had your own weyrlingmaster, and places don't exactly do things all the same. I understand you don't have riders in your family?" K'zin's smiling at Tela and then G'then and then, very briefly, he's not. It's when G'then asks about his family in proximity to weyrlinghood. It catches him off guard. It's a breath later when he says, "Yes, that's so. Unfortunately they were not supportive." It's a tactful way to talk about having been disowned, but that's not that uncommon a story for riders from non-Weyr backgrounds, so perhaps Tela's uncle can guess readily enough. "My youngest brother, Wazan, Stood for Rasavyth's clutch at Fort, and Elaruth's before that, but he's back at Beastcraft now." For Tela it might be easy to guess that the bronze helped with that particularly smooth segue to a less painful part of the topic. "I'm surprised my sister hasn't turned up at one Weyr or another demanding entry to the Sands when the eggs are hard, but I guess she loves weavercraft just that much." Telavi must have frozen; it's when he carries on that she squeezes his hand in apology. It might even be her reaction more than K'zin's that gives G'then an added clue. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says genuinely, and less awkwardly than he could have been; he's glad to nod and then smile for K'zin's siblings, and if he notices the change from sire to dam, he doesn't remark on it. "A broad range of crafts! Toraveth saved me from apprenticeship," he shares, "though I suspect I might have enjoyed it more than I thought if I'd had to stay in it." Meanwhile, Telavi's champing at the bit to say, just a little teasingly, "Are you sure she hasn't?" K'zin's hand squeezes Telavi's back, briefly, almost business-like. He's moving on. "Only since me. That was the first thing I did that displeased them. The rest are all miners. I was the first to choose otherwise." That's easier to talk about, however, than the unpleasantness following Impression. "What would you have done, if not for Toraveth?" The man asks, eager for the topic change. To Telavi, he raises his brows, brow wrinkling and a small smile trying hard not to make an appearance. "Well, she hasn't written of it if she has. And I rather suspect she'd have me haul her in if she really wanted to Stand. Or you, if she didn't want me to know. She's not above blackmail." He's probably joking. Probably. "A good trend to set," G'then says. "Tanner, actually. Otherwise it's mostly healers in the family with the odd person marrying out or going to some other Hall." He has a benign sort of chuckle for blackmail, too, as though teenage girls' forays into such matters must be utterly harmless. Not to say that Telavi's admitting to know otherwise; indeed, she says with a little smile of her own, "I think she could manage pretty well anywhere. She's very persuasive, Uncle." "Tanners do interesting work," K'zin answers the first with appreciation. "Forgive me for not knowing much about your family tree. Your siblings? Parents? All healers?" It's starting innocently enough. G'then did leave the door open for him, and presumably, Tela will claw him under the table if he steps too far out of bounds or starts down a road she'd rather he not take. "Kinzi-- my only sister, that is, has to be persuasive. I'm just glad she's graduated from breaking toes as means of encouragement." He's grinning, but there's probably truth in the tale. Forgive him? G'then chuckles at the thought, glancing at his niece, however much it's a polite turn of speech. "They're all older; I was the 'oops,'" he says comfortably. "Lala's descended from the only master of the four of us that made it, the other two journeyrank like our mother. Our father, he handled ledgers for the headwoman at the Hall. One of my brothers's a glass-smith." Telavi's been very quiet and still through all of this, except for stirring at that nickname, unless it was at the 'oops.' "None of them were toe-breakers, though, have to say that. Mother wouldn't have stood for any patching up short of a wild runner running us over, and even then she'd have scolded us to get out of the way." The oops doesn't seem to faze K'zin. "A master, wow." The sentiment seems expressed well. "My father was the master among us, though I suspect Zak has a good chance. And maybe Kina too. The younger two and my mother..." He just grins and shakes his head. "Are they all still at Healer or now posted around?" He asks casually, though under the table Telavi's hand gets a squeeze. "I wonder if I know your glass-smith brother. I had to take some basic glass craft classes at the Hall when I was young." Well rounded base and all that. G'then might not necessarily be committing these names to memory-- or maybe he is-- but he does grin back at K'zin. "After hearing how it went for her, and what little I've seen of the life afterward, it's no wonder that the rest don't bother with the attempt." Telavi's hand is not a warm hand, but she returns the attention gratefully. She still doesn't interrupt, though surely she could. "My parents are at a Hold down Keroon way, where it's warm Turn round-- Mother's just over seventy, and she's the younger one-- and the rest are posted. How did you take to the glass-crafting?" he asks with interest, before describing his brother: a particular man, especially as a teacher, with a loud, easy laugh and an interest in embedding glass modules within other glass. "Really? Was it tough for her? My father never seemed to have much of a problem, but then he loved his work like it was another child. Or maybe better than another child. And, of course, I'm one of the younger, so never saw anything before he was a Master. He didn't talk much about his Journey turns except for knowing my mother when she was an apprentice." K'zin relates easily. "I've not spent much time in Keroon, except to attend some runner races." Though he doesn't linger on that. "Glass-crafting takes more finesse than I'm inclined toward. Like beadwork. I tend to do better with large hunks of metal I can beat on." As one might imagine from his physique. Though, "He sounds familiar, but it's been turns and turns since those classes." He admits, begging off any commitment to the memory. Telavi keeps her mouth shut by dint of first taking back, then nibbling on, the last of that second sweet. "Turns," her uncle muses with a slow shake of his head, following the earlier, immediate grin at beating on metal. "Runners, hm! Apprentice and journeyman..." Telavi shivers almost imperceptibly, sits taller. "And they wed when she walked the tables herself, is that how it went? As for my sister, it was taxing. The way it keeps getting told, people become healers 'to help people,' you know how it is. 'My favorite canine pup fell down a well so I developed compassion for all living creatures,' or 'my little brother gashed his shin and kept picking at the scab until it got infected and finally they had to take the leg.'" He abandons the voices with a chuckle, pausing to wet his throat with another swallow of ale. There's a nod for the question, a grin on K'zin's face as he reports, "Supposedly nothing happened before she walked tables, but, you know." He sincerely doubts that. "With as fertile as my mother seems to be, she's fortunate she managed to walk tables before something proved that false. Zakari was born quite soon after their handfasting, I'm given to understand. 'Early' they said." Mmhm. He's duly interested for the story that follows, "I think we have one or two of those at the Weyr infirmary, yes." The healers with stories like that. The way he looks at G'then invites the bluerider to go on, a pleasant smile on K'zin's face. There's a muted almost-laugh for the nod for the question for the-- no, it's for the tone of K'zin's doubt, and now Telavi's casting eyes on G'then's ale mug as K'zin continues. He lifts a brow at her. She gives him a little smile, and if there's no dimple this time, it's not as though her uncle seems to have any himself. "'Early,'" they chorus after K'zin, looking at him, but it's the older man who nods to him. "Good, good, it's not just us," G'then deadpans. "So, all right, the way it was told to me was that journeymen get to-- or have to depending on who you talk to-- fulfill their childhood mission, and then have to-- or get to-- give it up for their master-studies. Then, they go back to everything they learned, and I mean everything, and have to regurgitate it back up even if they're never going to use it again. Then comes the project." K'zin's brows are sinking into a deeper and deeper furrow the longer that G'then goes on. "That sounds awful. Makes me sharding glad that smithing is a good deal more technical and less theoretical, though I don't suppose that when you get to the point of trying to become a master that the process is any less stupid and pointless." Er- did he say that outloud? "Not that it's pointless to be a master, of course," he hurries to add, giving G'then a contrite look. That time Telavi does laugh, and press her lips to the bronzerider's shoulder for a moment before smiling back at her uncle. G'then's chuckling, anyway; "'Course not. Anyhow, that's why everyone else didn't; senior journeyman's good and stable, but the rest," he just shakes his head. As an afterthought, "She also likes the politics a lot," without missing a beat, he holds up his fingers a small distance apart, "better than we do." The fingers close to nothing at all. "I don't blame them." That's delivered easily and truthfully enough for the lack of masterships all 'round. Telavi is the only one that gets any warning that the next question means so much more by way of a form squeeze to her hand that lingers as he asks. K'zin's tone doesn't shift in the slightest, nor does his casual demeanor. "So it was the politics we have to thank for the joys of your parenthood and the joys of my-" here is the only hesitation, and it's a purposeful one to look right at Telavi when he labels her, finally, out loud and to her uncle, "-Love?" Aw, how could either of them be mad at him for asking after that delivery? At that squeeze, Telavi's gaze immediately flicks to K'zin's expression-- then over to her uncle, parenthood-- and back in time for that label. Her eyes warm, in the next moment also wryly amused-- she saw what he did there-- enough that she says to her uncle in his silence, "He knows. You can tell him," without looking away. G'then doesn't seem to take this as a contradiction, though he does look at his niece in surprise, rubbing his chin before he finally speaks. "Not really, I was speaking facetiously about 'a lot,'" he says as he holds thumb and forefinger up at the same short distance, looking at K'zin questioningly; perhaps K'zin was too, and he missed it? Though then G'then goes on to reconsider, "Unless you count her getting that posting, since she wasn't political enough. Or, if you think it counts as politics that Weyrs and Holds raise their children differently. Some people do. Hmm. But I think it's mostly that I wanted you most, Tela." Not, 'they didn't want you.' He looks at her very earnestly. "You--" K'zin might be forgiven later for looking surprised. It's just that wanting a baby is so far out of his realm of desires that his cheeks color and he's looking at the table. It's enough, certainly to warrant being laughed at. And he has no immediate recovery. Tela, save him! Both of them look at K'zin in near-unison, Telavi first, her own cheeks already pinker but for a different reason; her poor uncle's made a surprised noise that isn't quite a huh? and here's Tela, just letting K'zin swing in the wind. For a couple seconds, anyway, and then she gives G'then a teasing smile. "He was thinking, here you are a young man, in good health and your right mind," here she slides her gaze up and down the table as though expecting contradiction. "And you want to deal with a baby?!" Tela reaches across the table for her uncle's hand to pat; softly, "I know, though. Family. And, think of it this way... he doesn't want to chain me up to bear them for him, so it's all good, right?" Her tone's light enough to be teasing once more, but G'then coughs over something gruff that leaves him with a partial frown. Not at K'zin, though; he looks away from Tela to hail a timely server and request-- his niece is visiting, with her young man! they're from back west!-- some dinner. That settled, he gives K'zin a more easygoing grin and, after complimenting him on the portrait he'd drawn some Turns ago, asks how his drawing is doing these days. Less fraught conversation, it seems, is also on the menu.
She's luminous in the glowlight she's brought with her, a soft halo about softer, golden skin; her dark hair's swept up a little too freely to be properly severe, her dark eyes less surprised and more warmly amused. She's poised there, the tapestry to the inner weyr behind her now, the three steps giving her physical height to match her sense of presence. The woman looks K'zin over; she seems to decide, "You are not... Telavi.'" 'Telavi,' as though the name were somehow foreign. "Neither are you," K'zin points out as he widens and drops his stance slightly as if spoiling for a fight, arms folding across his chest. The tone doesn't imply that he expected she would be, and the stance demands explanation even if he doesn't verbally request one beyond the already stated question. "No," agrees the foreign woman, the foreign-sounding woman, foreign in a way that might be all too familiar. She regards him with that much more interest given his shift in posture, his evidence of preparedness; it might be rude in some circles to look at a stranger so, as one might a particularly fine stallion for sale-- a stallion about which all sorts of rumors have spread. "When you see her," she says now, "tell her to look on the mantel, would you?" She doesn't approach. The exit is still beyond him, his dragon beyond that. Her voice is kind. "I was cleaning out my weyr and found something she should have back." Given that this stallion is more muscle than brain, it can't be helped that his curiosity starts to get the better of him (especially when it's being subtly encouraged from within). K'zin even lets his arms fall and takes a half step in the direction that would take him toward the mantel so he can go have a look for himself before he's frowning and giving the strange woman a wrinkled-brow look of discontent. He takes moments trying to sort just what tact he wants to take. "And you thought you'd just go into her weyr while she wasn't home and leave it for her rather than on the ledge?" Like any polite, non-intimate acquaintance should. "Who are you?" He'll ask outright since subtle isn't getting him anywhere. There's a glint in those dark eyes at that half step, one that doesn't recede when he stops; while he's busy frowning, the woman eases into the flight jacket she'd held over her arm. Despite its warm caramel shade of suede, it might seem too lightweight for between; what it does have is a Benden bluerider's knot, and not a new one. She's thus freed to gesture one-handed to her surroundings once he's posed that question; she is indeed as he sees her. "Sasha, of course," 'Sasha' says with a smile that expects recognition. "Which would make you... K'zen? K'zin, K'z--" whatever. "The ledge wouldn't serve; I'd hate for something to happen to it now, after all it's been through these last Turns." Her laugh is quiet, friendly even. Sasha... nope! Nothing. K'zin has a really awesome and authentic blank bronzerider look and he uses it now. "K'zin." He replies shortly. He has nothing friendly about him just now. His eyes do go to her knot. That's a piece of the puzzle, confirming what her accent already told him. He's still frowning at her. "Does she know you're here?" This seems the next logical question since none of the others have yielded answers that make sense to him. That takes the woman aback, her brows drawing together and her mouth tightening before she catches herself-- the first dent in her composure before she rallies. "No, no," Sasha says with seeming ease. "It was an impulse." Those women, they do these sorts of things! "You know how she likes surprises." With that, and another smile, she's stepping down into the outer weyr with an eye towards taking her leave. K'zin does know how she likes surprises, but the way she says it begs the question... Why does Sasha? "You're not one of her Benden friends." He steps into her path; nope, she shall not pass. He's been drinking with her Benden friends, more than once, even! "So what makes you think you can waltz into her weyr when you like? Or don't they bother to teach blueriders manners in Benden?" Nevermind that he just came from dinner with a Benden bluerider with lovely manners. Rather than dispute his assertion, Sasha gains from it an oddly secret smile... that hardens as he blocks her. She certainly doesn't run; there's nothing in those dark eyes that speaks of fear or flight. "Look at you, guarding territory. It's sweet." No, really. "You're right; we aren't just friends. We haven't been for a long time. If she minds... she can tell me." "Look at you, trespassing. It's adorable." K'zin returns not missing a beat, his jaw set and his eyes hard. "She can tell you. So I think it's best that you wait here until she arrives. She shouldn't be long behind me." The way that his arms shift along with his stance almost dares her to do something undignified like trying to make a run for it. The woman's nostrils flare ever so slightly. Only then, once the bronzerider continues, her brows involuntarily rise and she huffs a laugh. "Here. With you." Sasha looks from him around the rest of the weyr. Her, "Well, this should be exciting," might even sound anticipatory as she strolls toward to the stairs that go up to the little balcony, the better to lean elegantly against their rail. Then she looks at K'zin again: what entertainment will he provide while they wait? K'zin can't like the way that she looks at home here, but aside from the fact that his expression is cheerless as they wait, there's no overt sign. They wait. They wait. K'zin is not very entertaining; but then, does one really feel the need to entertain a cocky trespasser? He glances toward the ledge finally, because this is taking too long, and back to Sasha, before waiting some more. It's not as though Sasha's about to wait in silence, at least not after she's had her fill of fingering the scarves that adorn the rising, curving rail; "You know, you could go in and look at what I left," she mentions. "I won't run." It's a moment of hard staring at Sasha later before K'zin looks away, toward the ledge and says without much emotion, "If Telavi wants to show me, she can." Because he trusts her, or so he doubtlessly is telling himself. Sasha doesn't reply, no matter how long he waits, though her graceful shrug might be audible as a faint rustle of clothing as she looks away: in rather than out, and long enough to compose her expression-- to clear away the surprise, the annoyance, the reassessment-- into tolerant serenity. If it takes too much longer, though, her nails are going to start tapping at the iron that might as well be her bars. Outside, Solith glides to a landing, and nobody warns her; Telavi hops down, and still nobody warns her; Tela pets the green distractedly before she heads inside and there's still no warning as she calls, "K'zin?" before she's even past the outermost curtain. "I thought we were going to--" His demeanor must be her first clue. Though she'd instinctively headed for him, her gaze then swiftly scans her weyr and... Sasha. She stops. Her eyes widen before they can narrow. All that waiting, and the nails tapping... well, K'zin looks a little more sullen by the time Telavi, arrives, turning at the sound of footsteps. "You have a visitor." His arms shift to fold across his chest. "She was here when I arrived." And that's all the information the bronzerider is going to readily offer, and his jaw is tight doing it. Great. Just... great. It might not be clear where Telavi's going with this at first-- figuratively or literally-- especially with Sasha stepping forward after a last caress of a not-so-coincidentally coordinating scarf, smiling at her; Tela stalls then, just shy of K'zin, half as though he were a particularly grim-faced shield. "What are you doing here?" she asks, but not of him. There's a tremor in her otherwise strong voice. Her hands aren't talking at all. K'zin is oblivious about a lot of things. Telavi's attention to color coordination, Rasavyth's planned attentions to certain greens and golds, which of his favorite pants had holes and have recently been mended, but a tremor in Telavi's voice? That, he doesn't miss. He pivots most of the way back toward the Benden bluerider and shifts to slip an arm around Telavi's side. Where it might've once been imagined to be possessive, when it comes to being now, it's supportive. He keeps his mouth shut, but his expression is every assurance that he is the Muscle that he seems to be, ready to drag the bluerider out by her ear if need be. Sasha can see his expression even though Telavi can't, less directly-- Sasha's looking at the greenrider as though no one else exists-- than in her periphery, where she must know better than to lose track of him; it's possible, too, that she senses it. Which doesn't in the least stop her from replying, "To see you, of course, dea--" Telavi cuts her off. "Don't." She may not be leaning into K'zin, she's standing tall, but her body conforms to his hand and she's subtly shifted one foot subtly so it, too, touches his. Sasha continues as though this were what she was saying all along, "And," she pauses, not at all long but dramatic all the same, "I brought you your pillow." She has such a warm smile. There's something wrong here. K'zin recognizes it because it's the same flavor of wrong that lives in his head and breathes his every breath alongside him. Sasha looks the way Rasavyth feels. There's irony there, though he certainly isn't taking the time to appreciate it. He doesn't release his arm around Telavi, but his expression has gone from grim to dangerous. "Sasha," he interjects, quietly. Dangerously. "You are presently a guest in Telavi's home," which as she might recall was the thing he took initial issue with, "You will behave, or I will make you." The tone doesn't threaten, but promise. Perhaps Telavi can feel the at-the-ready tension in his arm that seeks to protect her and has no qualms about ruffling feather (pillows?) to do it. Telavi's paled. She presses one hand to K'zin's arm, but not to call him off. "Thank you," she says remotely, not really like thanks at all. Especially when she says, "I'm surprised." There's a pause, one that Sasha refuses to fill, in which he might feel Telavi drawing in a deeper breath... only to release it and with the next say instead, "Don't come here, not unsupervised, not again. I don't need you." There were so many places where the greenrider could have put emphasis, and something about Sasha's expression-- softer, tolerant even-- suggests she knows how to interpret them. Don't mind the way her knuckles had whitened when K'zin warned her like that, despite her otherwise confident pose; it's only when Telavi has finished speaking that she allows her gaze to lift to the bronzerider and linger there. Memorizing, maybe. Whatever she might have done when Telavi, younger Telavi, had still lived at Benden... now she says, "Take good care of her." Her nod to him is just as kindly, the smile to the greenrider warm; with that, she saunters past them and past the curtain. Exit, stage right. It probably says something worth saying that K'zin feels no need to answer Sasha, but then... he doesn't know who she is. His eyes track her, and he's silent some moments, though he seeks to draw Telavi into his embrace if she wishes to be drawn, before asking, "Is she gone?" Because Rasavyth still isn't helping. The answer's muffled in his chest-- something about how she's gone between and can stay there, the vehemence in Tela's tone approaching unconflicted-- for she's wrapped her arms about him and holding tight, pressed just as closely as she can. "Thank you for, for, for being here." Being here for her. Telavi can feel his nod in answer with his chin touching the side of her head. He stays quiet and then kisses the top of her head. "I'll open us a skin of wine." It seems like a good moment for that. His arms slip away, ready to step away if she's ready to let him go. She isn't, not immediately, though he could feel her nod in return regarding the wine; it's another couple moments before she steps back, brushing her hair back with her fingers and-- of course-- starting to rebraid its loose plaits as though that would put everything else in order, too. He knows where the wine is. Telavi can go along with that. It's just that there'll be hesitation before she steps into the inner weyr, her inner weyr; hesitation, too, before she starts to transitorily roam the place, fingertips skimming over surfaces that don't seem to have been touched. The one place she doesn't look is the mantel, for all that Sasha hadn't said anything out loud about that to her. Nor does he. He must pass, at least in it's general vicinity, to get to where the wine is kept, to break the wax seal and remove the cap so it can breathe. Where he takes the wine after that is to the great sleigh bed, setting the skin on the hook he fashioned for her to keep it from pitching over and making a mess while it's still rather full. Once he's there with the hook and the wine and the glasses and all of that is settled, he settles himself. K'zin takes his time to remove the boots he normally removes in the outer weyr, surely Tela will forgive him this one-time trespassing under the circumstances. He's a boy, so he picks at his toes and the lint between them once the socks are off. Then he's shifting to discard his clothes and find in the drawer reserved for him, the pair of relaxation pants he keeps there. Once he's changed, he pours water into her wash basin, looking at it discontentedly as he does, and splashing the water over his hands and then his face, finishing off by running his wet fingers through his hair. She'd entered as he'd washed his face; she'd skimmed over one of the couches, checking behind its pillows but not into the crevices of its upholstery, by the time he'd finished with his hair. She peeks over-- he's changed-- and toys with a button of her blouse before eventually heading to the bed, and the wine. Her fingers graze over the hook, habit; he calls them little things, these things he makes for her, but they're not. When it's time, she pours. The checking doesn't elude K'zin. As he rubs a towel across his face, he says, letting it be muffled though he surely could've chosen a different moment. "She said it's on the mantel." Since it must be assumed that's what Telavi is looking for. When the towel comes away, his expression is unreadable, but that doesn't stop him coming for his own glass of wine. "Thanks." It's quiet. Telavi still doesn't go there, but by the time he does look at her, she's visibly relaxed... for all that it hadn't kept her from checking other places anyway, as though she might suspect other surprises. Once she's handed him his wine, "I'm sorry about that. She-- I don't even know. I try not to think about her." He takes a swallow of wine that might, in some circles, be described as a gulp or an over-eager sip. His manner has become quite quiet and self-contained. He's being mature about all this, see? But can K'zin, even Mature K'zin, be blamed for asking the simple question she had to have seen coming? Indeed, that he has to ask at all is telling. "Who is she?" "Ugh." That's who she is. Telavi has two of K'zin's style of sips. "I had a crush on her for a couple of Turns. Ish. And... do you want," really want, "the story?" She glances at him. It's like those kinds of stories. K'zin's brows knit, but he's looking at his glass. "I want an answer." If that means she has to tell him the story, well, then he'll hear it, but is possible that just maybe he doesn't want to, and what Telavi's said so far doesn't qualify as an answer for the bronzerider. If he'd take it all on-- but he doesn't. To that, "I'll give you one. More of one." With that, Telavi summarily drains her glass and, leaving it behind, all but marches around the bed. She strips off pants and socks, that's nothing new, but then burrows beneath the furs towards K'zin's side otherwise as-is, which is. It's not his quilt, after all, that ends up becoming a hooded cape from which she sits and looks out, and she has the sheets beneath her and too many clothes besides. She still hasn't looked at the mantel. "So I was running around with my friends, having fun," she begins. "I'd gotten over Selah apprenticing instead," at least as much as she was going to then, the wry twinge to her voice implies. "I'd seen and done a lot of things, I still hadn't Impressed and it looked like I wasn't going to, and it was summer and sewing could be done just about anywhere. So we did." K'zin turns to face her, but doesn't join her on the bed. The former, well, it would be too telling if he didn't, and the latter? Perhaps he simply can't bring himself to. His expression gives little away as she starts telling the story, even if it's different than the version she might've told if he'd simply said 'yes' to her question. Now that there's been some retreat into himself, his expression isn't so much impassive as just hard to read. He sips the wine as she speaks, more acceptable sips, more measured. "Okay...?" Still looking for that answer. He's hard to read. She's looking at him, hoping-- and then that light ebbs. She goes on. "She flew in an older circle, but by then we were old enough, or thought we were. They were all pretty people, or else it didn't matter then. She was confident, as most were; and capable, as a lot were; and laughing, as they all were except for the ones who were doing the 'I have dark hidden secrets and it's dangerous to love me' thing. But there was something about her." Does he see it, can he imagine how it might have been? "She's like Rasavyth." K'zin cuts in, expression-- yes, solemn is the right word for it. He's not kidding, not one tiny little bit. He sets his wine glass aside and looks at the greenrider. "Who is she, Telavi?" Maybe the answer really was that he doesn't want to hear the story. Where she sits tailor-fashion beneath the furry tent, the shadows haven't crept forward enough to disguise the widening of Tela's eyes, glowlight catching them between blue and green and anything but expressionless. Her instinctive demurral pauses mid-syllable, even, nearly before she speaks at all; then she licks her lips, just a tiny flicker. She sits back. The tent slips back into more of a shawl. "I-- I don't know." She's not far enough away to be able to tell. But that must be for Sasha's similarity to his dragon, for then she says, "I thought she was my lover, once." She could raise her chin in challenge; she doesn't, and neither does she lower it. She keeps looking at K'zin, her back straight, her eyes and hands so vulnerable. She lays the words out there. "When I was living in her weyr, when I thought it was our weyr, before I lost her child and she had no use for me anymore." "What?" So, perhaps it's been a while since there's been a reminder, but there's a learning curve for people who have never been in a relationship before. There are certainly better responses to this highly sensitive and emotional matter. Arguably, even those experienced might've had a hard time coming up with something else. How long have they been together(ish)? Only four turns? K'zin's fists have clenched and his knuckles are white. His expression is warring emotions, none of which are particularly pleasant and none of which are the sought for 'understanding' or 'comforting.' There isn't 'pity' either, though, so if Tela was worried about that she can be put at ease on this small matter. He turns. Maybe to leave? To abandon her here? It seems likely when Rasavyth's tenor comes to Solith, « I am landing. » Look out. But then K'zin sits on the edge of the bed, hands finding his knees, gripping there and staring, just staring at the wall. Well, what did she expect? The shawl's a hood and then-- not so much a tent as a protective carapace as she yanks it back up over her; at least she isn't disappearing in disquiet over those fists, so there is that not-so-small matter. Oh yes, and then there's for-the-moment-quiet crying, which can only help, right? Solith's version of looking out requires some quick arranging to have her head out instead of in, an uncertain and fragile-looking cork in the entrance; if Tela's talking to her instead of just feeling, it doesn't show, though it's also not like that's new. K'zin must hear the weeping. It must penetrate his still-stunned silence. But if it does, there is no sign, he just stares, blankly, at the totally fascinating wall. The number of Rasavyth has made this landing makes it easier, though it never warrants a lack of focus. He lands, he crouches, he tilts his head to look at Solith. Solith's kind of partly curled, partly wing-crumpled like an unhappy cabbage shoved into a too-small stewpot. Or perhaps the simmering pot is in front of her instead, a bronze one, to whom she warbles. Telavi doesn't look at the ledge, it's not as though she can look through the armoire anyway, and she's too busy looking at K'zin's back and shoulder. After another sniff she stifles with her wrist, "...K'zin?" The bronze considers the green a long moment, then wordlessly comes his familiar warm ooze with reflections of her usual breezy demeanor and a wing is extended, offering her a place to take comfort with him. That's why he is here, after all. But with K'zin still within, he cannot physically offer his rider anything. "Do I know you? At all?" The bronzerider asks, quietly. His tone is one of restrained disbelief and-- well, yes, hurt. She understands, doesn't she? He twists to look at her with his soulful eyes. "Were you ever going to tell me?" Not the soulful eyes! Solith warbles again, more quietly and uncertain and maybe she should go in there? but she's just not sure and she knows what it's like to be away and comfort is good but she can't be away more and and. Her eyes whirl more calmly now, at least, not that they were frantic before. Telavi, though, she's still dealing with the soulful eyes. Never mind her dragon, there's guilting right here. Her lower lip even trembles. "It was really, really awful," she says. "I still don't want to think about it, how it hurt, my body and, and her and 'our' friends drifting off with her and-- I didn't have to tell you and I am telling you," and there's that tremble again, which turns into another stifled sniffle. "I'm glad you like to know about me, even if it is my past, even if it's hard, and I'm sorry that I hurt you," and that's true because it is, and on top of that she's sounding hurt too. "I just wish that you'd hug me and tell me that that sounds awful and what she did was awful and..." and. K'zin sucks in a breath. His needs, her needs. There's balance somewhere. He's looking for it. Rasavyth's extended wing relaxes, enough that Solith realizes the offer stands, but without pressure for her to take him up on it. He shifts on the ledge, his eyes directed past the green to where he can only see with his second set of eyes. "Tela," the bronzerider starts, sounding serious and tired, "We've been involved for three turns, eleven months and seventeen days. We've talked about smithing, and sewing, and drawing. We've talked about your parents, the death of my father, the relationship I had with him-- with them, all of my family. We've talked about Him." K'zin's most intimate details, if perhaps not all of them. "Why couldn't you just have said, 'By the way, lover, I was once weyrmated, but let's not talk about it because it was a bad time for me'? Why--" He has to trail off to swallow hard and he rises from the bed, though still turned to face her. "Did you think I would judge you? That I wouldn't love you anymore?" Before she really has a chance to answer, there's more. "It doesn't just sound awful, it is awful. I have half a mind to go jump on my dragon and chase the bitch down and give her exactly what she deserves," and see? This little bit of rage he's keeping in check is why he's not hugging her. "If she ever comes here again, I swear by the First Egg, she won't be leaving whole." Woman, or no woman, evidently. Oh. There's blinking, slowly, to soothe wide eyes; then there's blinking quickly to try and not tear up too much more. Telavi's lips have parted to answer-- and then answer again-- and then round into a little oh of their own. K'zin, impressive. Those would-be interjections not only have gone away, they might even have been forgotten. "Oh," Tela says out loud this time, finally. "I don't exactly want her beaten up? But I think I like a little too much that you want to." Or a lot, given how rosy her cheeks are, how bright her eyes-- and now not just with tears. K'zin gnashes his teeth. He takes more moments standing there, hands flexing into and out of fists to try to calm himself. 'Too bad' is the message the greenrider can take away from that; if Sasha shows up and K'zin is around... it's going to get very bad, very fast. "I need you to do something for me, Tela." He sounds pretty deadly serious. "I need you to tell me that you need me here. Right now." Because otherwise he might tear off after the bitch anyway. Telavi discreetly blots her nose on the back of her wrist just in case and then-- well, there are some times when she challenges K'zin, times when she simply does what she wants to do... and times when she does, as exactly as she can, what he wants. This is one of the lattermost. She untangles her legs to move closer to him on single hand and knees, the other hand knotted in the furs, and she says exactly that: she needs him. She needs him here. She needs him here and now. She really does. And the last syllables on her lips are, "K'zin." It's a shuddering breath that takes some of the unconscious but extreme tension out of his broad shoulders, and a second that helps it ease out of his torso, back and arms. He slides down onto the edge of the bed in a strange sort of surrender. Surrender to staying. But he's not moving to her. "Explain to me, please. I don't understand, Tela." That confusion is a hardship all its own. Why didn't she just tell him. Ever. She moves to him. Sometimes that's too close; she can only hope that tonight it won't be. One hand searches out his, less to take it as such than to press against its back. She's confused in a different way, at first-- which, of the many, many things, should she attempt to explain? First? Finally, "If I don't think about it, don't talk about it, it... it feels like... it'll go away, like it never was. I don't want to be that girl, K'zin, I don't want to have been that girl." It's a little too vehement; she has to swallow hard before she can make that go away. She presses closer, leaning into his side, solid enough to lean on in turn. "And... how could I have said that, dropped that on you-- and then ask you not to ask? You, of anyone in the world?" That K'zin says, "You're not that girl," is not meant to be comforting; it's a visceral reaction to Telavi's saying that about herself. "That bitch-" who doesn't warrant a name, "-is a sharding fool for ever making you feel that way, and a plain halfwit for trying to continue to make you feel so." The change is abrupt as he turns, using the hand pressed to his and anything else of her he can get ahold of to pull her fiercely to him, crushing her against him as though in so doing, he might be able to protect her from all the Sashas of the world, perhaps especially the one that lives in his head. It's easy to say now, and quietly, "I'd have done it, for you." Not asked. "I'd have listened. Damnit Tela, I could've--" What could he have done? It's all so long past, "I don't know, something. I'd've wanted to be there for you." "I--" might have said something about the nameless one, but it turns into what's pretty much a squeak, and then Tela's taking him back and all but climbing to meet him-- holding on as tightly as she, too, can. She doesn't need to breathe. It may be easy for him to say it now, but it's also easier just now for her to believe. "You're here now." She does breathe now, a breath more ragged than her own quiet voice. "I don't imagine you stopping loving me, K'zin." It could be an answer to his earlier question. It's only half. "Leave... but not that." She moves to kiss him, then, one hand in his hair, no wait for anything like a reply. K'zin lets some of his frustration and helplessness bleed off in the kiss in the form of fervor. But he doesn't let it go on overly long. Not long enough to take them wholly away from the topic at hand. "Tela," he breathlessly breaks away, tilting his forehead to touch hers. "You know I love you for you, right? Not for who you were or might've been, just for who you are now. Not for weyrs or babies or any of the things that don't matter," because neither of them wants to move in together or have babies; if they did, then these things might matter. This is important. "You know that, right?" And then, "But," isn't there always a but? "I want to know you. I want you to talk to me. Not about everything, not-- not to not have any secrets, but no big ones." He falls silent after the words are out in an abrupt way, a way that means his mouth and heart took him one step too far from where the rest of him can follow. He looks pained then, and on the ledge, Rasavyth tenses. Slowly, the bronzerider starts to pull away, shaking his head, maybe not even seeing her anymore. He's so often been better at it than she is, sticking to topics in the face of kissing. Tela might have nodded if their foreheads weren't touching then; as it is, she fairly embodies... not bewilderment exactly, laced as it is with all that feeling wrapping them together, but an intent sort of puzzlement; "I think so-- yes--" and then, her gaze searching his, "I want to." It's become natural to say yes to him, again and again over the Turns, even if just now it's replaced all those other secrets of hers in her thoughts, much less what size they might be. Over and over she's kept wanting to say yes to him, even though she hasn't always, so simple compared to her normal fluid talking and talking and yet not so simple at all. Only then, worry reentering those blue-just-now eyes, "What? What is it?" One hand starts to cup his cheek and then instead slides behind his neck. "K'zin? Look at me." He can't. He just can't. He stops moving away from her, though his body is still leaned that way, but suddenly there are tears on his cheeks. It's been a long time since Weeping Waki has wept in front of Telavi. But now he does, and he can't meet her eyes. "It's never going to be like that." It comes with a sniffle, with a wrist rising to rub those tears away. "Sorry, it's-- nothing. It's stupid. I'm stupid. For wanting things that can't be." Because he has secrets. Big secrets. And he must keep them. It's a testament to Telavi's love for K'zin that she sacrifices her blouse-- after quickly taking it off-- to the man's tears. Nor does she try to make him meet her gaze, not beyond those earlier words; she keeps one hand in his hair and then kisses the clean side of his wrist lightly, so lightly. For his can't-be, "Did you ever think, back then, that we could be here now? Would you have thought you were stupid back then," she hates that word, applied to him, when it's for real, "to think this possible?" A girl who sacrifices her shirt for manly man tears should not be rewarded with this answer: "I didn't want to be here back then." And yet... That exhale of hers, it's kind of like a sigh to the extent that it pretty much is one, if quite quietly so. There still might be a cool puff of breath on his chin, though. "You are making the logic more difficult," Tela says plaintively. "'Think positive,' and all that." "If the logic were logical," K'zin starts to argue, though that's as far as he gets before he laughs a thick, sniffly laugh. But it's a laugh, and that's progress. "Sorry. This is all just stupid." He's shaking his head again, though more briefly, and leaning in to kiss her (but not before making use of the sacrifice). Laughs are so much better, at least when they aren't of the laughing at or the hollow emo variety. Tela mmms her approval of this kind, carefully not looking too closely at the sacrificial shirt. Kissing is good for that, but it's her turn to pause; she angles to kiss the tip of his nose and then asks, "In your imaginary daydream land, what would everything look like?" Other than hot and cold running babes. "Not important," K'zin answers this time; he's more interested in the kissing. "You'd better have your way with me before I make my escape to go do something stupid." He pauses, "In point of fact, you really should aim to thoroughly exhaust me, so I can't do anything stupid until at least morning." Great idea, right? He manages one of his most charming smiles for her. Sure, it's an obvious diversion, but... it's a fun one! It really, really, really is. Telavi's not the one who's supposed to have to not-distract, and she likes being charmed by that smile-- the more so for them both knowing that's what it is. "Mmm," she muses. "I thought it's important, but I suppose you just might be right about the rest..." 'Might.' Her smile may not be as sparkling as it most often is, given such teasing-- including the palm on his chest that suggests that if he really wants to convince her, surely he should let himself be pushed back onto the bed despite their relative mass-- but then, the day's been quite the wringer. Going down with him, she leans her forearms flat on his shoulders where they meet his chest and kisses him again, lingeringly. "I tell you what," Tela says, kissing higher along his cheekbone, peeking at his brown eyes, "You think about that... what your daydream land would be like... and I'll ask you about it in a little bit. After a little exhausting. Even if," all this is punctuated by still more kisses, leading towards his ear and her whispered, "your daydream land ordinarily doesn't include... daydreaming out loud upon request." Well, he went down, he was hoping this was going to be a good way to let it all go. But she probably knows his resigned sigh when she hears it. Here it is. Resigned K'zin is Resigned. No happy sexy fun times. He's starting to disentangle himself... again. "I don't think about stuff like that." And won't now, apparently. It's not like Telavi's going to help with the disentangling, quite the contrary, particularly given how his neck is so conveniently located. "What's your favorite flavor of pie today?" she asks along it. "What?" K'zin stops, at least. Pie is serious business. "Pie," Telavi murmurs, drawing out the vowel. "Berry pie, redfruit pie, redfruit with berries, darkberries or lightberries or thimbleberries, apricot, peach..." "Why?" Suspicious K'zin is Suspicious as he tries to lean away enough to see her face; are there clues there for him to help figure out what she's playing at? Resigned K'zin, Suspicious K'zin... he leans, and Telavi tilts her head just enough to give him a good look at dark blue eyes; never mind the tearstains that still have lingered some since she hasn't gotten to wash her face. That's before she says, "I like pie," and makes to nibble delicately along his collarbone. "Our Gathers should still have them. With iced cream, I think. Or whipped cream, that's good too. This maybe was going to be a metaphor but now I'm hungry." Mmm, pie. K'zin peers down at her. It sure seems like it might be a trap. Tentatively, "You... want... to go to one of the gathers and have pie?" It's a romantic proposition for a date. "Yes," Telavi says definitively. Because that's what people do after meeting up with the family and then running into the ex, not to mention starting to Talk. "I was hoping you'd finish taking your clothes off first, but...." She shrugs in a way that rolls her shoulders very nicely indeed, then starts to rise. "Wait, what?" K'zin is confused. His wide eyes follow her as she starts to rise, though apparently he doesn't think to stop her. "You want to go now? Is there even one going on right now?" He looks to the pillows as if they might offer some answer, or perhaps simply because he just wants to lay down. "There always is, somewhere," though for some reason, Telavi isn't rushing off quite yet. Perhaps it's those wide eyes that slowed her, fingertips trailing rather than leaving altogether; it's after that glance toward the pillows, though, that an absurdly fond smile emerges for K'zin. "I was thinking now..." Yet, contrary to reason, somehow 'now' has to do with leaning to fluff the furs over him like an eiderdown. The bronzerider's expression is plaintive, "I don't want to go now." Don't make him! He's already got his lower lip sticking out just enough that some might misinterpret this as a pout. Misinterpret. That's definitely what it would be, oh yes. Telavi's gaze lingers along his lip like she might be tempted to tweak it. "No?" she wonders once her gaze has risen to K'zin's again, and she can be oh so plaintive too. In the end, though, this time she refrains from the soulful eyes. "...Budge over." K'zin looks at the bed again and then back at the greenrider and instead, stands. "I think-- It might be better if I went back to my place tonight." His lip purse now is contemplative. It's not negative, so much as simply trying to take a step back to get a handle on-- well, everything. "There's-- .... there's been a lot." She knows, right? That sends her back several literal steps, and Tela's looking at him... carefully. One hand's risen almost to the back of her neck, as though against whiplash, but she brings it back down before skin can touch. "You were-- just a couple minutes ago-- all about the kissing; then you're looking like you could stay in bed for a seven; and now..." Now she doesn't even have her shirt and, as though the cold touches her only now that she's aware of it, goosebumps prickle their way up her arms. Suddenly, "You said not to let you go." The bronzerider looks at the greenrider. It's a long few moments of silence and then a sigh. "Alright, I'll stay." And if the words alone don't convince her, there's the stripping down the rest of the way. "Okay." It's quiet. Telavi looks at him a little longer as long as he's busy, and not only for the view; what she doesn't do is demand that he sound happier about it. Perhaps she's surprised that, this time, it didn't-- or hasn't-- devolved to yelling and tears, more tears anyway, and walkouts. Perhaps it's about how there's been a lot for her too. It's after she finishes her own preparations and has slipped into bed, after she tucks herself into his side that she murmurs, "I'm glad." She can't expect a reply. But she gets one, it, too, is quiet. "I'm going to need some time to process all of this. It doesn't mean we're not still us." Together. A relationship? Whatever 'us' means. "It's a lot. Even just meeting your uncle would've been a lot." And then there was so much more than that. He said 'process.' Telavi might even have to process that, even before her eyes reopen. With the glows having been mostly shuttered, there's not much light now, and it's not like she can see much past his chest anyway... but that's instinct in action. "What--" leads to an exhale. She doesn't complete it, if indeed she can complete it at all. Perhaps that readjustment of her head is a nod. K'zin shifts; he needs to press a kiss to the top of her head, though it might seem, somehow, daintier than usual if not intentionally unreassuring. "Sweet dreams, love." "Love you," Telavi murmurs, soft, soft. Her eyes stay open until later, some time after his breathing's slowed; then, deliberately, she closes them. She never did look at the mantel. She doesn't now. |
Leave A Comment