Logs:Drunk, Not S(l)ick
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| RL Date: 23 September, 2013 |
| Who: Rasavyth, K'zin, Telavi, Solith |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After talking to Jo, druuuunk K'zin is inspired to visit Telavi to get answers to his questions. Nevermind that she's asleep and tipsy herself... |
| Where: View To A Kill Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 11, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: G'then/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, T'volt/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated and played via gdocs. |
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| View To A Kill Weyr, High Reaches Weyr It's a step up from the ledge and its heavy curtain into the elegant, dark-flecked weyr. In the depths of the cavern, a short spiral staircase rises even further, ending abruptly in an alcove that extends over the dragon couch; bright, colorful scarves adorn its iron railing like so much festive fringe. To one side of the balcony, past the hooks that keep straps and stray gear contained above a small press for shoes, three more curved steps rise high enough to double as additional seating before they reach the archway to the inner weyr. Past a faded tapestry, the crescent-shaped room is furnished with more ironwork and heavy wood that comprise a large hearth and an equally impressive sleigh bed, the latter with a colorful coverlet atop of all its furs. Standing at the foot of the bed, a huge, intricately carved armoire faces outward and creates a sort of alcove. Though there's certainly room for more furniture beyond the comfortable, curvilinear couches and flat-topped trunk that sit before the hearth, even the traditional table and side chairs are missing in favor of space. Despite the dark elegance of most of the furnishings, the bones of the weyr are quirky, charming like the ledge-cluster outside: each room slightly smaller than average, their heights staggered, growing stuffy in the summer while in winter remaining cozy and warm no matter how cold it gets outside.
The green's mostly visible by way of how her eyes reflect, unlidding, surprised right along with a querulous warble. Which is to say, she hadn't been awake. Maybe she is now. Maybe this is all a dream. A very strange dream. Solith has dreams like that sometimes, only he hasn't turned into even a bony sort of a wherry, so perhaps this isn't a dream. Also, there are no rainbows. She blinks a few times but doesn't seek to slow him down any. Of course, it is sort of dark in the inner weyr. Also, the furniture's been rearranged. Not that Solith's likely to have recollected any of that. Currently, the rearranged furniture doesn't impede his travel either. Surely, if he had to go into the inner weyr to get to the stairs to Telavi's bed, there would be plenty of bangs and yelps to further herald his approach. As is, there's only the sound of him stumbling on the stairs. Twice, before he gives up and crawls the rest of the way. If Tela's not at the top of the stairs to stop him, his crawl takes him right to the bed and into it. Into it, check. Not that Telavi's sleeping alone, but at least she has been sleeping, waking only groggily with her braids all askew because her mattress is moving and suddenly it's cold and crowded and-- this, while her companion abandons ship with a whirr of wings and a squawk louder than her, "What?" Still no rainbows. K'zin pulls himself into a cross-legged, sitting position on the foot of her bed, boots and all. By the time she's asking what, he's fixed her in his gaze and he's looking at her seriously (if not soberly). He wreaks of booze, and when he speaks, his baritone has a youthful quality to it that becomes a mixture of pouty and complaint. "Tela, how come you never tell me anything about your past? I know almost nothing about you." And now his lower lip juts out a little to fit the tone. He has the advantage of being awake, if not sober, or maybe not being sober is an advantage for this sort of thing. Not that Tela's wholly in that state herself; it wasn't so long ago that she and certain other girls were engaged in hijinks having at least a little more to do with libations than libidos, but that smell... and she hasn't even noticed the boots, yet. "...K'zin? What?" She pulls herself up some, catches on a braid, mutters an imprecation that's not so under her breath. His brows lift, as though he's disappointed she hasn't heard him. He blinks at her, wide-eyed and innocent like it weren't completely unheard of for him to be sitting at the end of her bed asking strange questions late at night while intoxicated. "How come you never tell me anything about your past? Do I even know you at all?" The latter if it were said in anger would have a very different meaning, only now it seems to be a question posed with genuine concern. "Am I just in love with the idea of you?" Yep. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Wait, what? Telavi rubs her eyeballs like they're about ready to squeak, only when she opens her eyes again, he's still there. When she sits the rest of the way up, she doesn't even prove to be wearing exciting lingerie, just some overlarge shirt or other whose sleeves had to be rolled up to meet her wrists. "Know me? You... wait, you do so know me." Minus the past that she hasn't gotten around to mentioning because, "It's now that's important, what do the rest-- if you'd have-- wait, you said the L-word," and she puts it just that way, tipping forward to try and feel his forehead. Or maybe his mouth. Or his shoulder. But probably his forehead. "What? No, I didn't." Use the L-word. But before that topic can come into too sharp a focus (although he's probably not thinking that way), he argues on, "No, I don't." He holds up a hand and begins to tick off: "I don't know where you were born. Or how you were raised. Or if you have family. Or what your favorite color is. Well, no, I know that, but I don't know if it was different before. I don't know how you became a seamstress. I don't know if you had any pets growing up. I don't know how you know Jo from before you were a rider," Which might be a clue about the circumstances of this visit, but he's not saying so at least. Maybe Jo won't kill him after all. "I don't know anything about you." He asserts again. He misses a finger at least once coming down, and he repeats a finger to make there be enough for all his points. He leans away from her touch, and even nips at the air as if he'd bite her hand for trying to feel if he's feverish. "I'm drunk, not sick." At least that much he knows. There are several "But!"s in there, and a few other words that get overshot of which at least a couple have to do with Jo, before Telavi gets this look like she just might give away to an inappropriate giggle-- it's the counting, not that the air-nipping hurts-- and quickly says, "Well, that's okay, then." Drunk. Not sick-ing her up. Not that sicking up would be good either. Less laughter-prone now, "You know my uncle and his awful weyrmate." At least one of whom raised her. At least one of whom she'd count as family. At least... he might know part of that by reference, no introducing each one to the other because that could be-- could be-- something. And, "Those things... they're before, they just aren't as important to me. You know who I am now. But if you... you could ask when it's not like a quiz. And," fine braids slide over her shoulders as she ducks her head, pressing her lips together hard before she looks back up to him in the dim light. "It's hard when you keep leaving." "I know you have an uncle. And that he didn't come to dinner on your turnday. This is the first time you've ever mentioned an awful weyrmate." K'zin rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Look. I ask questions because I want to know. No one ever taught me to chat. I wasn't raised by women. The people who raised me were men. Men don't chat. We ask questions when we have them. I have lots for you, but you don't want them because they're not pretty and subtle and framed prettily." Sure, he used pretty twice, but his point is getting across, right? Especially with the way his hands are flapping about in the air, it's in way that he probably thinks is helping explain. It might be a mimic of Telavi's hand-talking moments. "I wasn't leaving before. I was never leaving before and you wouldn't tell me things then. Everyone I've talked to about this whole stupid mess is 'Tela's strong' and 'She's tougher than you think' and 'K'zin, you're being stupid', but apparently, they all know things about you that I don't, and I'm the one you've been shelling well sleeping with for nearly a turn." But who's counting. The first time? Even Tela looks surprised at that, though apparently it's likely enough that she doesn't argue. Or maybe it has more to do with the continued surprise: the description of questions, the adorable hand-flapping-- the hand-flapping!-- and all the rest that has her just about silently sputtering until, "You don't 'chat' but you've been talking to lots of people," who say he's being stupid! "and you're counting," and Telavi draws up her legs, tucking them to one side for balance. "I don't know what all these people think they know," she says darkly, though that tone doesn't last. "And... I don't know why you think I'm weak just because, what? I cry sometimes? Can you give me a question that isn't going to feel like, 'Here, Tela, rip out your insides that you don't even look at so that it'll hurt more when I go away again?'" Even softer, "Do you care what my favorite color used to be, or is it just--" If she gives him an opportunity to interrupt her, maybe he will. K'zin is, indeed, obliging. Only he's not going to talk about the last thing first. He's stuck on something earlier, "I talk to lots of people, Tela, but talking to lots of people doesn't equal wanting to know about lots of people. With some of them I have to be smooth and slick, I don't want to be someone I'm not with you. If you're looking for someone who's not me, then you should find him with someone who's not me. You don't want me to treat you like a mark. I ask you questions because I want to know you. I don't even really ask T'volt a lot of questions because it's not like that." He asks some, to be sure, but that liaison is focused on things that happen in and around a bed even more than he and Telavi often are. He gets lost a second frowning, starting to shift on the bed, starting to move as though he'll be getting out of it, only it's hard to disentangle one's limbs when one is at a significantly diminished capacity. It's just as he's finally getting one leg to slip out from under the other that something she said prompts him to stare at her. "Wait. What? Shell it all, you think I think you're weak? I don't think you're weak. I don't want you to have a need to be strong. To endure hurt. Not because of me." Growl. Of course, this is the moment where his attempt to shift results in him falling backward, head lolling off the edge of the bed and he siiighs. "And yes," from there he answers, "I wouldn't ask if I didn't care. I only get so many words with you before I'm busy. I wouldn't waste them." "Yes! I don't want you to treat me like a... oh. Oh." Telavi's knotted her hands together, and not even around her braids for once, all wide eyes and never mind T'who or the talking-about-her right now; she doesn't try to stop K'zin so it's just as well that he stops to stare. And. And he may not need a reply but she's ducking her head in a quick nod anyway, because yes, and then he-- he-- she can't help but fold forward and clamber down along her bed so she can peer down at him, exquisitely careful not to tip him over, at least not literally. If she can help it. "That is, that's the sweetest thing you ever..." at least, that she can think of right now, but then she's not bothering to make comparisons; maybe 'sweet' wasn't what he was aiming for, but, "Oh, K'zin," and all his worrying about 'sending the wrong message' before, well. That ship has sailed, regardless of whether there might be a whole flotilla of icebergs in its path. Given that his head and just a little of his shoulders is all that's lolling off the bed, Telavi's shifting doesn't put him in danger of falling off, "What? Sweetest?" The baritone is surprised and enough that efforts put into wiggling down the bed and then getting himself propped up on his elbows. If Tela's in the way, she may very well get a head-bonk for the trouble. He's not exactly in the most aware state at the moment in so far as exactly where all his body parts are as he's trying to move around. "You've entirely missed the point." He accuses. What was it again? "The point is we've been sleeping together for almost a turn and I still don't know you because you don't want me to know you. If you wanted me to know you, you'd try to meet me half way, you'd have answered some of my questions or not deterred me from asking more, or you'd've said something about not liking how I ask questions before now." Nevermind that one time that she did. There's a squeak and a bit of braid-whiplash to go along with Telavi's dodge, but at least it isn't worse than a graze. Which doesn't mean that she doesn't wind up smiling at K'zin anyway. While she does allow, "Or one of them," given the warmth in her voice, it's definitely high up there on the list. Even though he's started on again about missing points. It must help her address rather than distance herself from accusation, at least compared to other nights, since she isn't literally or metaphorically moving on... or closing down. Yet. "K'zin?" she says from that close range. "I am sorry; I really didn't realize it was... like that, for you. I knew we'd started out all-- casual, and I didn't realize that more also meant... that you'd even want... Not until tonight," she adds finally. Her voice slows. "I thought I had said once. That it's hard for me? Some questions, and how they're asked. And... I thought you already knew what matters. But hard isn't as hard, not now that I know." Her hands curl in the rucked-up coverlet, and not for one reason alone. "Don't be slick. Just be you." To her allowance, K'zin makes a disgusted noise. It might be 'ugh', but at least he doesn't verbally protest the point again. Then when she starts talking like that, about that, he starts staring at her like she's grown a third head. "What? I don't want. No. Stop, don't say things like that." He's turning red. Well, redder than the alcohol already made him, and redder and redder. His blood is betraying him. "Just because I want to know you doesn't mean I want to feel things for you." Even if he does feel them anyway, wanting or no. "Ugh." That time it's definitely an 'ugh'. "When did this get so sharding complicated?" He's not asking Telavi. He's probably not even asking Rasavyth, even though he almost certainly gets an answer from that quarter judging from the way his nose bunches up. "That's exactly the point, Tela. You want me to be me, but you don't want me to ask you questions the way I ask questions. You want me to do it some other way. You're simultaneously asking me to be me and not be me in practically the same breath. Would you sharding well make up your mind?" This is a plaintive demand as he lets his elbows slide away and he flumps back down onto the bed. Women. « Ever since you let your heart get involved where only your dick belongs. » Rasavyth's tenor comes with a yawn of boredom. This nonsense is still tiresome. « Well, maybe if your dick ever got where it belonged, we wouldn't have this problem. » K'zin's answer has nothing to do with how his heart got involved or whether it would be or not if Rasavyth did win a flight, but it's hitting the bronze where it hurts, and that's enough to shut him up, at least for the moment. He's blushing. He's blushing. But then there are the disgusted sounds. For once Telavi doesn't answer him anyway, the way she can't know that Rasavyth had. She peeks down at K'zin from her vantage, her hair sliding with the oversized shirt off one shoulder before she frees a hand to tug both back up. "I have made up my mind," she says, though there's a wry curl to her mouth, too. "Maybe, since you don't want to feel those things, you'll get lucky and find out something that will make you stop. Maybe that old favorite color was really, really awful." Brown eyes follow the drop of material, and more importantly linger on the flesh revealed too long to try to protest in that moment that he wasn't interested by what he saw. But then she's talking and, "Wait, what?" K'zin's confused. Not about the color thing, though, as it becomes apparent as he goes on, "But it doesn't matter now. We're broken up now. Or whatever it is when you stop getting with someone that you weren't technically in a relationship with even though you mostly were just sleeping with them for the better part of the six months before you broke up with them except for that guy you were doing. I mean, I was doing. Whatever that's called. We're that. Now it's too late." Only he's really drunk. So maybe that's not the truth, his head rolls to look dramatically away from her and toward the ledge. Given the inebriation, it's impossible to tell if this is genuine or mock. Of course Tela has to make a face at him for that. All that explains why he's on her bed right now, no doubt about it. And then, look, neck. "Too late, too bad, so sad," comes out more wistfully singsong than otherwise, and could even be taken-- mistaken?-- for reassuring agreement; it's just that it also comes along with a caress along his neck, half into his hair before she starts to pull her hand away. "Good night, K'zin." He can leap up, he can conk out, but she has covers to get back under, regardless. "What?" Confused again, K'zin's head turns back and takes in Telavi heading for the covers. "Oh. Yeah, okay. Night." He lingers only a moment, probably summoning the focus and determination to roll out of the bed. There is a thump as he finds the floor, but an "I'm okay!" is volunteered as he starts to try to find his feet. He stumbles and catches himself on the wall at the edge of the three stairs that lead to and from the crescent-shaped room. He abruptly pitches forward and makes a sound. It's a sound no one wants to hear in their weyr. Especially when the source is leaning over the oft-travelled stairs and not with his head in a bucket. Maybe it's through the power of Telavi's mental objections (of which he can be sure without looking), but K'zin does not puke. Just a little dry heave before, "I'm okay!" He carefully doesn't look back at the bed as he starts fleeing (slowly, drunkenly) to the ledge beyond. The thump is one thing, made by that reassurance into something rather more endearing than otherwise if Tela's expression and quick, "Good," are any gauge; that sound, though... just like that, she's scampering out of bed with something like a hissed-in breath because cold stone and, "K'zin? K'zin. Take it easy," and do not throw up in her weyr because yes, yes, he knows her that well. He's slow, she's not slow; he's drunk, she's tipsy by now at most, even if she'll still wind up blaming the headache on the alcohol. When she catches up to him, it's to scold, "You are not," and reach to sling an arm about his hips, careful of his vulnerable stomach. "Lean on me. You don't have to drink that much to come back, you know." Not to confuse him more, or anything. Or to slow him down, if the alternative is redecorating her weyr. He barely gets two steps down before she's there. And her arm's around him. And that's touching. And that's confusing. K'zin's sluggish to respond, but once he starts, it's a fumbling attempt to disentangle himself from her grip, which turns into more entangling and ends with his hand awkwardly trapping her hand under his hand on top of one of her breasts while he's pressed his back to the wall. Whatever he might have said is lost in a freeze at he stares at his hand, her hand, her-- Maybe if he weren't so drunk, he'd pull his hand away. Under what had been normal circumstances, something like that would have been fun; as it is, Telavi can't help but arch into their shared touch... but then the rest of that movement becomes her lifting onto her toes in an attempt to press a kiss to his cheek and then step back, or at least extricate her hand as she breathes those sweet, romantic words, "Please don't throw up on me." K'zin is too busy staring to put a stop to the rock or the kiss, but that's enough to snap him out of it. "Damnit, Tela!" Because clearly, this is all her fault. Or is now. "We're broken up!" And with that equally romantic response, his hand is dropping away from where, yes, of course, it lingered, and he's stumbling for the ledge again. Since she'd stepped back for that very same purpose, it's not as though she can quibble-- except that, as with certain other things, Telavi can't not. There's a distinctly acerbic quality to, "That doesn't stop you from retching. I was trying to help you not fall over. Now go vomit on your own ledge." She'll still try and make sure he doesn't walk into any walls, not too hard anyway, or to walk off her ledge without his dragon, despite what just might be a sudden bout of temptation... but she'll do it with her arms crossed. Which is what he wanted. Right? |
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