Logs:H'vier's Wingsecond
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| RL Date: 12 October, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, H'vier |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: G'laer gets his knot from another Very Bad Man. They get high together. |
| Where: Plateau outside HRW and Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer and Oliwer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 13 & Day 21, Month 13 |
| Mentions: Cherie/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, Jadzia/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Tayre/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. Adult themes. Slightly back-dated. |
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| G'laer comes when he can. To these practice sessions that Reisoth has so generously offered Teisyth. The greenrider might have opted out, except that it's working, and it's his job to pay attention to what Reisoth is having her do differently so she can remember in days and sevens to come. Reisoth needs him for that, but little else. The bronze and green do their thing, and G'laer does what they ask, either staying on the ground, like today, or accompanying in the straps. His long coat's collar is flipped up and the flaps on his fur-lined hat are flipped down over his ears. The snow is gathering on the plateau in the mountains outside the weyr. His gloved hands hang at his sides, Faranth forbid he put them in his pockets for even one moment. Although, today, perhaps that behavior is warranted. Today H'vier is here and the men are left quite on their lonesome when the dragons take to the sky. There's a chance that H'vier is here on purpose and that that's the reason Reisoth doesn't require G'laer's presence with his lifemate at present. He, by contrast, seems pensive, but not particularly concerned about being alone with the greenrider. Maybe it will put G'laer at ease that H'vier's lost in his own thoughts for some time. Until he finally says, "I need to know something." G'laer isn't particularly ill-at-ease, but is, rather, simply at the ready, as is his way when he is with virtually any human being (and probably at least half the time that he's alone). He probably has been waiting for the bronzerider to speak. There had to be a reason he showed up, after all, and it was probably not to pal around. "What." It's an inquiry of subject not a question of the phrase; he heard him. "You know things about Tayte," starts H'vier, straight to the point, his arms crossing and a gloved hand lifting up to rub absently at his beard. He'll ignore the fact that G'laer knows plenty about him, too, because of her. But he's not here for accusations, anyway, and there's nothing particularly antagonistic about the way the bronzerider speaks or carries himself right now. He just wants information. "What do you know about Kaytee?" "What don't I know is a shorter list. What she's like in bed, for example. First-hand, anyway." G'laer's answer is delivered in a bland tone. The bronzerider should be comforted, shouldn't he? That G'laer claims not to have slept with her? For some reason, the idea that G'laer might have slept with the woman he loves doesn't seem to have occurred to him until the greenrider points it out. H'vier narrows his eyes at the other man, frowning, but shakes his head. That can wait. "That's not what I meant. Do you know what she did? How she earned a living?" The greenrider tips his head just a little to one side. "You know, that sounds an awful lot like something a very loyal wingsecond might tell his wingleader if he asked." G'laer didn't miss H'vier's nice new knot. There are so many things H'vier could say right now. Like how K'del did say something like he needed to appoint a woman as one of his wingseconds and G'laer might be close enough, even if he doesn't fit the requirement of already being in Iceberg. But the bronzerider wants to know what G'laer knows about Tayte, so he tries not to discourage the greenrider's happy, sharing feelings. "It does, doesn't it," is what he decides to say, perhaps implying that G'laer ought to tell him what he wants to know if he wants the knot. "It does." G'laer agrees and then goes silent. Try to out-stony his stony-face, H'vier. He dares you. H'vier will try, narrowing his eyes at the greenrider and frowning. But he has to be very aware of the fact that G'laer currently has the better hand. G'laer will look unmoved. He's aware that his cards may never be this good again. It's worth the gamble. The fact that H'vier is weighing his options right now is probably obvious enough to a man like G'laer. He doesn't want to give in to the manipulation. But he really wants to know the things he wants to know. So he says, "Fine. The knot is yours. Tell me what you know." And it better be good, dammit! "Do I look like an idiot?" G'laer asks placidly. "Once I have the knot and my name is submitted to the Weyrleader, then I'll answer your questions." He's not exactly asking H'vier to have patience. G'laer knows words are just words. H'vier's jaw clenches, agitated. But he won't follow through on that agitation physically. He's obviously grown as a person. "Don't forget, greenrider, that you aren't the only one that knows these things." He could, after all, go directly to the source. Which might beg the question of why he didn't in the first place. "No, bronzerider, I'm not." G'laer responds evenly with just a touch of emphasis. "But I'm the one you asked." He shifts, stretching his neck, "And hey," pause, "I thought we were going to be buds." The half-smirk is genuinely amused. "She was always a vintner." He throws the larger man a bone. "Ended up in a bad spot, the way it was told to me. That girlfriend of hers got her into the trouble and hired me to get her out of it." "You're the one that helped her get out--" H'vier cuts himself off, because, for one, he doesn't want to think about Tayte like that. And, two, he definitely doesn't want to feel like he owes a damned thing to G'laer, even indirectly, if that's actually the case. "I'll get you the knot. Then you will tell me everything you know about Tayte." The look he gives the greenrider is a silent question of whether or not they have an understanding. G'laer considers that. "I'll tell you what I can, but there are some details that I won't divulge, pertaining to my own involvement. I won't tell you anything you could only have gotten from me." Because that would probably be breaking some previous agreement with Tayte herself. "But I won't leave you unsatisfied." The greenrider's lips twitch like he might like to smirk, but he resists the urge if that's the case. H'vier could not say that he's happy with this proposed arrangement. But it's, perhaps, better than the nothing he's liable to get otherwise. Though maybe that's worth not having to make G'laer his other wingsecond... Ponder, ponder. It's a little belated that he seems to pick up the entendre of the greenrider's last comment, whether it was intended or not, and he narrows his eyes. In the end, he only grunts some acknowledgment. G'laer doesn't smile, so there's no way to know if he meant the last comment that way, but he'll leave it at that, content in silence until the lesson is concluded and he can be on his way again. "Come by the weyr, when Oliwer's out, when you have the knot." It's not instruction, but invitation. It's probably a more comfortable setting than this at this time of the turn to have a discussion of any length. G'laer will probably even build a fire so they don't have to watch their breath when they talk!
The first day with both of his new wingseconds has been an interesting one. While H'vier has been professional, the dynamic will certainly take some getting used to for him and Fayla in particular. G'laer being new to it entirely means that he might even settle in more easily than bronze or brownrider. When H'vier arrives at the greenrider's weyr, he's not in the very best of moods. But it doesn't seem to be G'laer's fault. The tea is regarded with some suspicion. But if his new wingsecond were going to murder him, he'd probably find a more satisfying way than poison. So H'vier drinks once he's helped himself to a seat. "No," he agrees. But since G'laer knows perfectly well why he's here, he waits instead of prompting. Simply volunteering information willy nilly is a sure way to give away more than one strictly has to, so G'laer settles across from the bronzerider and asks, "What do you want to know?" And then, "More specific than 'everything.'" "The agreement was for you to tell me everything, excluding whatever pertained to your own involvement." Of which, for the record, H'vier is still not very thrilled about. But since they have to start somewhere, "What do you know about what Tayte was doing then?" It's still pretty broad, but maybe he doesn't mean for it to be. He nurses the tea while he watches the greenrider. "What I needed to know," which sounds like a non-answer, of course. G'laer leans back in his chair. "The girlfriend said she was a vintner. Bartending at the Sand Bar. You'd know more about that, wouldn't you?" Since that's where H'vier and Tayte met. "They went to a party, the girlfriend's idea, and she got in over her head." Or so the story goes. H'vier does not need to be reminded that G'laer knows entirely more about him than he ought to and the look he gives the greenrider suggests as much even if he refrains from commenting on it. "What party? How long was she in over her head?" "Something the brothel threw. The girlfriend said they got drunk and stupid, and the brothel got paid for it." The greenrider has the tact to say his next words carefully, "There were too many witnesses willing to come forward and even if not everyone believed, enough would to ruin her career." G'laer sips his tea, "So they let her do both." Her career and whoring presumably. "The girlfriend said she figured they'd have to let her go when she got transferred, so she put in for one, but then she found out she was pregnant and the girlfriend found me." Even H'vier should be able to do the math that Party-Girl Tayte was in this particular bind when they got together the first time. While H'vier is silently processing this information, he takes another drink. The fact that he's already not getting as tense as one might expect him to is probably a good sign. For G'laer, anyway. He's frowning, sure, but that's about the extent of it. "Do you know where the girlfriend is now?" "I can check my notes." G'laer doesn't choose to do so now. He waits. What else does the bronzerider want to know? It's almost a certainty that H'vier wants to ask more about the woman who was supposed to be his weyrmate, the woman who is the mother to the children he's aware of. Maybe he doesn't realize that he's not asking the questions in his head out loud. Or maybe he doesn't realize that his pause is lasting so long. Finally, "Why didn't you fuck her?" That's probably not something he'd been intending on asking. "You're asking why I didn't fuck a woman who got entrapped and blackmailed?" G'laer arches a brow, "Aside from the obvious," not wanting to end up entrapped or blackmailed himself, "I'm selective about the people I sleep with." The look he gives H'vier suggests now is not the moment for a quip about his weyrmate. Another time, G'laer saying he's too selective to sleep with Tayte might rub him the wrong way. What's wrong with Tayte?! But right now, it probably sounds reasonable enough. Or H'vier just doesn't care enough to get worked up about it. There are more important things to care about. And even if his gaze does wander to a thing or two he probably assumes is from said weyrmate's softer touch, the bronzerider doesn't comment. "I'm glad you didn't fuck her." "I have no regrets," the greenrider answers placidly, sipping at his tea. "For what it's worth, I don't think she ever liked it. She was young and stupid, and that girlfriend made her stupider. The reason she's so afraid of me is equal parts what I have done, what I could do, and what I know about her. She just wants to move on." And have G'laer not kill her. "I don't know if I can picture her not liking that. Or maybe she's never liked it with me, either, and she's just a fucking fantastic actress." That could make her pretty valuable, admittedly. H'vier is frowning, though, and not only because he's saying things out loud that he'd probably usually simply think in his head. "Maybe I shouldn't tell her that I know." That would be the mature, loving thing to do, perhaps. But this is H'vier. "You can't picture her not liking fucking whoever paid the price for her flesh?" G'laer asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Have you bothered looking around at some of the other men that make use of those establishments?" The other eyebrow joins the first. "I wouldn't like to fuck them, and my bar is a lot lower with men." He sips his tea. "How did you find out anyway?" The name, he knows that much, that was him. "You'd understand if you'd fucked her." H'vier seems pretty confident of that. He doesn't even seem to be tense about the idea of G'laer with Tayte anymore, either. As for the other men, "Suppose you've a point there." Though he doesn't seem to know what to do about G'laer's bar. But at least he doesn't make a crack with it for now. "One of them mentioned her name. Well, the other one. Do you know which is her real one?" "Tayte is what's on record with the Hall and what her parents call her." Is it scary that G'laer's done that much research? "I did ask the girlfriend though. Apparently, at the party, someone overheard Cherie saying ' 'Kay T,' her nickname for Tayte and it stuck. If they'd had her real name from the start, there might not have been any coming back from it. It's easy enough to tell a man who was probably drunk that he has the wrong girl when he thinks he recognizes her," he pauses distinctly, purposefully, "unless one is very persistent, but I get paid for that too." It might be scarier if H'vier were more focused. He sets his mug down while he considers everything he's been told with a frown that's more pensive than upset. "She probably doesn't want any of that getting out still." Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. He doesn't seem to be telling G'laer, though, simply saying it out loud. "If she loves you like she claimed, and she didn't tell you herself," G'laer considers, "I'd say so." He, at least, doesn't seem to think it's an obvious thing. "The stakes might not be as high now that she's given in her knot." Something about that makes him frown. "Perhaps not," admits H'vier, still frowning. So much frowning. "She threatened to leave and take my children with her. I don't want that to happen." So there's a good possibility that it's crossed his mind to use this information to his advantage somehow. "If you didn't want her to leave," forget the kids, "why didn't you weyrmate her so she'd stay?" G'laer asks, glancing back toward the bed. The one he shares with his own weyrmate. "I tried. She never... let it happen. Things got intense. And I didn't want to hurt her again, so I left." Short and sweet, slightly misleading. Basically the opposite of H'vier. But maybe, of all people, G'laer can understand how selfless it might actually be for the bronzerider to distance himself from the woman he loves. G'laer sips his tea in silence, looking at the bronzerider. "Then you're a better man than I." How 'bout them apples? "I'd've weyrmated her and had done." Does Oliwer realize he's in this for life? Maybe he thinks he hopes so. That makes the bronzerider laugh. It's a real laugh, too, no doubt helped along by the tea. Anyone calling H'vier a better man than anyone else is not something he hears very often. "I've wanted to, trust me. I even might've if the Weyrleader hadn't threatened to transfer me if I hurt her again. Bitch runs and tells that bastard everything." It's a source of much frustration. "You don't think she would've transferred with you? Or is that you really like here so much?" G'laer wonders. "There are ways, you know. To cut the ties that bind." The way the greenrider looks suggests he's giving it thought. It's a challenge, after all. His usual methods would be useless on a man like K'del. "She wouldn't've. She wouldn't even move into a weyr with me. Should've tried harder." H'vier sighs, clearly regretting not being more forceful about weyrmating Tayte. "Thought about transferring, anyway. But Reisoth likes it here. My kids are here." There's a pause before he asks, perhaps just a little belatedly. "Ways?" G'laer's brows draw together just slightly, looking openly dubious, "You've never broken up a relationship before?" H'vier has to think about that, his own brows drawing together if only for their magical thought-producing capabilities. "I suppose. Not often on purpose, though. And that one... I'm not sure it can be broken." "No?" G'laer arches a brow at H'vier. "There's nothing that you can think of that could drive a wedge between them?" Maybe he knows and just isn't telling, or perhaps he's starting this whole partnership thing off on the right foot by at least offering the semblance of brainstorming for one of the bronzerider's less professional problems. "Yvalia," says H'vier without a second thought. And it's clearly something he's thought about before, but even in his current state, or maybe especially in his current state, he's not sure how he feels about using her against Tayte. More than he already has. He looks to G'laer now as though he expects the greenrider to have some other idea. Possibly any other idea. The greenrider is amused. "Got a soft spot for her?" His tone is teasing. It's easier to be amused, visibly, and teasing when that tea is so special. Arguably, a moral man might not tease, but when two horrible people get high together... The bronzerider has to think about that question for a little while longer than might be strictly acceptable. "It's complicated," is what he decides to say. It's still probably not a great answer for anyone that would be horrified by this conversation in the first place. "If Tayte found out," he begins, but doesn't finish. H'vier would have a bad time. "But isn't that the case if you do anything?" G'laer asks. It's without his usual air of knowledgeability, so he probably doesn't know, he's just asking. H'vier makes a sound that's probably meant to be an agreeable acknowledgment. "I think she would forgive me for a lot of things." But perhaps not if they included her children. Particularly the one she already knows he doesn't like as much as the ones that are definitely his. "It's a lot of effort to go to," for a whore. He doesn't say it, might not even mean it that way. G'laer probably feels doing much of anything is a lot of effort, after all, his 'seduction' of Oliwer could be summed up as "dropped his pants and said 'Wanna?'" "Do you really want her that much?" The implication is that there are other options out there. "If you'd asked me when I first left her," begins H'vier thoughtfully, such an intellectual conversation, "I probably would've said yes. I'm not sure now. I don't think it would ever be the same. And I've spent a lot of time forcing myself not to care what she's doing." Or who she's doing. To varying degrees of success. "I don't like the idea of her keeping me from my kids, though." "Do you really think she would?" G'laer poses this question now, "I mean, she told you about Tahvra and didn't have to. If she'd not wanted you involved, wouldn't she just have kept things to herself?" "She was in love with me when Tahvra was born. She wasn't gonna tell me the last one was mine at all. Reisoth told me." Because Reisoth is a stalker. "And now she says if I do anything 'stupid'," audible air quotes, "she'll leave the Weyr and keep my kids away from me." Or something like that. "My son is not leaving this Weyr, I can tell you that." G'laer snorts. Evidently he doesn't find Tayte's threat as credible as H'vier does. "Because she'll what? Go somewhere you can't find her?" He lifts his brows. "Take K'del's daughter somewhere he can't find her?" He makes it sound ridiculous. "She's taken them somewhere before." And, presumably, he didn't find them. But he also didn't look very hard. "She'd probably tell K'del. She tells him everything." The way H'vier says that holds a bit of the venom he feels whenever he thinks about the other bronzerider too much. Especially in relation to Tayte and his children. "Maybe I should just get rid of her." It's said so casually offhand. With a wistful sigh, even. It might be funny, this, coming from G'laer, "That seems a little extreme." He takes a sip of his tea, "Especially when you now have so much information she'd rather no one have." He takes another casual sip and then looks down at his cup. All out. So sad! He shifts to rise to move to the fire and refill the kettle. Clearly, when they're discussing murder so calmly, they're not high enough? H'vier has a snort of a laugh for G'laer's 'protest.' "If she even cares that I have it. As you said, not as much risk for her now that she's given up her knot. Suppose it depends on how much she doesn't want to deal with me." But that will have to be a discussion between himself and the woman in question. "Do you have anything on your... weyrmate?" He tries to find a different word for it than what it actually is, but clearly fails. "He seems a bit soft for a man like you. Or you seem a bit hard for a man like him. Not sure which is the way it goes." "No." It's matter-of-fact as the kettle is hung and the greenrider moves to stir up and feed the fire. "Not sure there's anything to get on a good man like him. At least not directly." G'laer replaces the poker on its stand. "But he won't leave me again." He sounds sure. "I just have to pretend. To be the man he thinks he wants," which is, admittedly, not remotely close to the man G'laer is. "It's not really what I want. But it works." "Seems like a lot of effort," H'vier turns G'laer's words back on him. He might not realize it, though. "If it's not what you want, why are you even bothering with him? He can't be that good in the sack." Not that the bronzerider actually wants to give it that much thought. But there's probably the sense that this is exactly what he would say if G'laer were talking about his female weyrmate instead. "It is." G'laer sighs. "I've thought about leaving him. Almost did some months back." The greenrider is frowning when he comes back to the table, settling back into his chair. "Couldn't." Evidently. "Been avoiding the woman who'd like me to," leave him, "since." It's not really like G'laer to avoid, but that probably says something about the woman in question. "Thinking I might just roll the dice, have my cake and eat it too, and see what happens." A woman. That's something H'vier can get a little more interested in. And he doesn't have the composure right now to not look interested. "So you're telling me there's some woman out there that wants you. And you'd rather sit around here with the weyrmate you don't even want to be with." At least he doesn't call him old and gross or anything. "Well, here's what you do." Brilliant plan time! "You tell me who she is and I'll make sure to keep her too busy to give you and your healer any thought." Obviously any woman that would be interested in G'laer would be just as interested in him. "I'm not your little black book. Find your own pussy, asshole." G'laer says it... playfully. He grins at H'vier across the table. "Besides, there's no saying you haven't already dipped your wick. And if you have, I don't want to know about it. Last thing I need is to end up thinking about you when I'm fucking her." "Good point. I don't want you thinking about me while you're fucking anyone, either." It might be different, funny even, if G'laer weren't into guys. But he is, so H'vier will just steer clear of all that. Right after he suggests, "It might help you keep good and hard, though, man." He laughs, but it fades out quickly, "It gets hard, finding pussy. Got spoiled with Tayte. I'd say that's why you keep yours around, but if you've got someone else spreading for you." That isn't as good of a case. "You are getting to an age where most people who'll take you up on that kind of thing are settling down. And there are always the young, stupid ones," something about that makes G'laer grin, "but they're not so constant as those who've been in the world a while." He sounds, ultimately, sympathetic and rises to pull the kettle off. "You could always go back to her. Try it, anyway. She might spread her legs for you. She certainly has always liked to." He snorts. But mustn't whatever story Tayte told about H'vier and her involvement with him painted that picture clearly enough? "If she says no, you can always offer to pay her." He laughs. "The young, stupid ones are what I count on, anymore." But they are, by nature, unreliable, it's true. "I don't know that I want to go back to her. Not like it was. But maybe we can work out some arrangement where she's available when nothing better's around." Why wouldn't a woman agree to something like that? H'vier certainly couldn't say. G'laer makes an amused noise. "Yeah, that sounds likely." No, not even a little. The greenrider's sarcasm is heavy. "I'm not sure even all the blackmail you have could get her into an arrangement like that. She's headstrong." And they both know it. "That'd be more likely to tip the cards right out of your hand." He advises. H'vier frowns. Surely he knows that already. But it's not really what he wants to hear. Instead, he'll just rely on the old, "There's plenty of women left to fuck, anyway. Just not sure that's all I want anymore." Which makes him pause, then add with a small measure of disgust with himself, "Fuck, I'm getting old." "Aren't we all." G'laer's chuckle is both amused and rueful as he turns back to the bronzerider with the kettle. "More tea?" |
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