Logs:Just A Different Place
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| RL Date: 19 March, 2014 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: N'rov tells Aishani he's going South. Aishani takes exception with being told. |
| Where: Aishani and Iesaryth's Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 4, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, E'ten/Mentions |
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| It's quiet enough and finally nearly warm late in the evening at High Reaches, most of the light coming dimly from ledges letting in the air, the sky above dark. Iesaryth's ledge is lit even though the gold herself is perched on the rim above, watching. Inside, Aishani's front table is covered in several boxes, one of which she's sorting through with the telltale clink of bottles, still dressed - in the striped shirt from the weaver's, presumably, worn trousers, a large flashy necklace - but barefoot. Whatever she's doing, it looks as if she's been at it for awhile, all the boxes opened, a notebook open on a chair. Vhaeryth's greeting is for the queen rather than the watchdragon, as he swirls down out of nothingness, and he'll return to her and the heights just as soon as he's delivered his rider; N'rov, fresh from Hematite's gathering, doesn't stop to enjoy the view but instead walks inside to enjoy that view. After a moment or two of watching her, a moment or two that eases some of the tiredness and tension in his demeanor, "Inventory?" Iesaryth is always pleased to see Vhaeryth; it's there in her sea-salt breezy greeting, the spray of foamy water to streak metal, there in her rumble as the bronze passes. Aishani surely must be aware of N'rov as he enters, even if she wasn't necessarily expecting him. She lets him watch her for a moment before looking up with a slight smile. After picking up the notebook to write a couple of things down, she closes it, and starts on the boxes. "Something like that, though less official. I need to store some things, and I like to know what I'm storing." Maybe he doesn't want to know though, so... boxes closed. As she glances his way again, her dark gaze sharpens. "Are you all right?" Splashed! Vhaeryth's amusement carries into the 'dodge' of his descent's showy slalom curves, and even his comparatively moderate return; he settles right by Iesaryth, sptretching his wings high before furling them; for once, for once it's not raining. He can appreciate that. His rider seems to have missed her rider's discretion, though, trailing a hand along the nearest box's edge on his way to Shani. "What have you got? If this is all booze, that's going to be one big party." As if Aishani ever hosted that sort of thing in her very own weyr. He's still in the flight leathers from sweeps this morning, the early sweeps that had him stealing out of her bed before breakfast or dawn. "It's been a long day." There's alcohol on his breath when he bends to kiss her, but nothing noteworthy. "And I've news, though it shouldn't change anything on your end." The lack of rain certainly has Iesaryth in a good mood, but her mood is hardly ever all that stormy. Right now, it's all sunny skies, especially given she's company to sit on the rim and watch over High Reaches, just to be sure she knows what everyone's doing and where they're going. She leans into Vhaeryth briefly with one shoulder, companionable and warm. "It's not mine," Shani says, as she folds the last lid closed. Which is not quite an answer. "And it all seems to be booze. I doubt it's all meant for one person, though." The notebook is tossed atop the last of them, and her expression shades concerned even as he's kissing her, brows drawn together. "Shouldn't it. Well, sit down first, at least. It has been a long day." Catching his hand, she leads him over to the hearth and the chairs. If they were playing a game of twenty questions, N'rov would be on his way to reap quite the reward; as it is, he nods into the not-mine and settles for the answers he does get, grey gaze angling back towards the boxes one more time before going along with Shani's directions and taking a seat. Along the way, off goes his jacket, and he rubs his head with his hands before looking at her: there's another chair, and then there's his lap. "Going to feed me too?" he inquires with a muted smile. As he looks back to the boxes, Aishani just gives N'rov a slight smile and a shrug. There's some things she does that she doesn't talk much about, to the benefit of all involved. If she can tell him enough to disinterest him, so much the better. "If I must," she sighs dramatically, swinging his hand in hers before letting it go to send a note to the kitchens. Though the way he's smiling is noted - she's quirked something of a smile as well as she returns, but her dark eyes are serious, brows raised. She doesn't go to the other chair, but perches on the arm of his rather than in his lap, swinging bare feet up to rest there. Her toes wiggle. "I can't promise it'll be anything decent, though." Consider it less disinterest than interest in abeyance: sufficiently satisfied enough that he's not inclined to snoop, at lest not this minute. But then, N'rov does tend to respect Aishani's various... stashes. His eyes have shut during her progression to the dumbwaiter; they do reopen at her return, and he wraps a hand around one bare foot, high enough not to impede her wiggling but firmly caught. There's no attempt to tickle; rather, he rubs his thumb up her arch. "I'd take a cold meatroll at this point." And with that, and with her secure (or so a man can dream), he shuts his eyes until the food shows up or until she causes him to change his mind, whichever comes first. There's a near-silent laugh at his response, and though she's obviously concerned and curious both, Shani's content to sit in companionable silence, much like the dragons above on the rim. The only thing she does that might distract him is gently stroke his hair, but for once, there's no intent there but to comfort. It takes a little while for the food to squeak its way up in the elevator, but even when it does, she seems reluctant to move, eventually pressing a kiss to his forehead before getting up, bringing a basket back. "Lucky you. There's some soup, it looks like, and the rolls don't look cold or stale at all." As if the kitchen wouldn't hear about either. When she touches his hair like that, though his eyes don't open, N'rov's mouth curves up at the corners; he even lets her foot go for the basket-fetching, giving his hand a swipe on his thigh even though it's with the other one that he then reaches for the food. "Amazing. I'll take it." It's after he's had enough to settle him that he glances up and says, "So I'm to go off to Southern for a few months, Shani. On leave from Hematite, to help out. " Shani takes the arm of the chair again, feet on the floor this time, tilting her head once N'rov's taken the basket and started to eat. And then he glances up and just says it, just like that, no big deal, and she's very still. Looking over at the hearth, expression shifting, "Well. And you saw no reason to... discuss it with me." She gets up. "That's interesting." N'rov's not so tired that he doesn't sense the obvious, and now he tracks her with his eyes; "It's not like it's going to change our visits," may not be the most appealing thing to say, but he says it steadily, like he means it. "It's just a different place, that's all." "You did this on purpose," Shani accuses, "Because you think I'll forgive you. Because I always forgive you." She doesn't go far, just over to the hearth where she can lean more easily, though she's not looking at him. "This is different. It's not just a different place. It's... a lot of things." Pursing her lips, shrugging, "You've already decided, it doesn't matter what I say. Enjoy yourself." Now N'rov rests his spoon on the edge of the bowl with an audible clink, but if she's not looking at him, she won't see the way his expression changes. "I said I'd go, on purpose, because I'm needed." If that tiredness shows in his voice along with the deliberation, it doesn't keep him from straightening where he sits. "I wasn't thinking," he says, "that you'd forgive me or not forgive me. Things are upside down and... you know me, Shani. You know I can't just sit back. It was one less thing to worry about, thinking you'd understand." Her jaw sets briefly as she listens, and though she could probably say a lot of things about not thinking, Shani doesn't. She twists a curl around her finger, watching the coil form. "I don't understand how you'd think I would understand that the moment Isyath is in line to become Senior, you'd move to where she is and put yourself in line to be Weyrleader. When I had to lie and work and scheme to try to make that happen for us so I would never have to ask you to transfer. No, I really don't get that." Real surprise shows in his voice; 'What? No." He's getting up, now, setting the soup aside so he can go to her. "Her clutch only just hatched, Shani," N'rov says now. "She's not going to rise for at least a Turn, more, and I'm going to be well out of there by then." If there's lingering confusion about more that she's said, there's none about this. One thing at a time. With a sideways look, "That's what you plan, but plans change. And things happen with dragons when they need to rise, despite the examples around here. It could happen. And... I don't know. I would have talked to you." Shani shakes her head, lets the curl spring loose from her finger, the tip left white. "Or even just pretended it wasn't all decided." "It won't happen." N'rov says it with complete certainty, as though he could have achieved an oath from Isyath infused within her very ichor. Does she hear it? He reaches in to rescue that finger if he can, and the rest of her hand with it, the better to rub its circulation back to health. Looking at her, "Would you want me to fake it? Because I sure as shells wouldn't want you to." Shani lets him take her hand for now, but her expression is skeptical, not certain in the least about his certainty. Fine brows are drawn together as she looks up at him, not quite able to entirely hide the hurt in dark eyes. "I'd like to be important enough that you'd think to... say something." Sighing, her gaze drifts down to her hand, that finger in his. "I don't expect to come before everything in your life; we don't get to do that. But I'd like to... I should feel like the most important woman in your life. I don't know that I do." "You should," N'rov says plainly. "You should feel that. I don't have a great answer for why I didn't talk, why we didn't talk first. Things were upside down, still are." He watches her keenly. "Would you think twice if it were E'ten who needed a hand? Well, no, I'd bet you'd still want to talk first. But would it be like this?" "No. It wouldn't." She doesn't bother to lie. "But that's why I'd want to talk first. I don't like feeling like you might be hiding something from me. I can't..." Aishani blinks a few times rapidly, long lashes suddenly spiky. "I don't want to be paranoid here, with you. I try not to be." It's not easy. There's a pause before she has to point out, "E'ten's dragon can't rise either, even if you plan to be long gone before there's more than a small chance." "Shani, look. No, you don't have to be paranoid, not with me. You shouldn't be. I'm not out to fly her, to bed her, to be her Weyrleader," N'rov says, his hand tightening about his girl's as he spots that perilous blinking. "I'm in it to help someone who needs help, who needs my help. Someone that, shells! I owe a lot. We've had each other's back; maybe not on the Dice thing, but it's not like this is a plot to get me to relinquish the junior weyr," that they won fair and square doesn't actually get said out loud this time. "K'varl's going too. Difference is? He's going to be staying, and I'm not, and you're going to see that." "I know! I know," mostly. "And I would never tell you not to go. Never tell you not to do anything." Because if there's anything Shani hates, it's being told what to do, or not to do, as the case may be. "I wouldn't tell you not to help a friend or go wherever the fuck you want, I just want to know about these decisions before they're... done." The comment about the junior weyr has her lips quirking, despite seriousness and anything near tears; his last has fine brows arching as she looks up again, dark eyes brightened. "Am I? Am I supposed to drag you back for Fort? I don't work for them." "Never? I seem to remember..." If her mouth can get all quirky, N'rov can glance meaningfully toward that beaded glass curtain. But, "I'll work on remembering that. And I'll also remember that you said you wanted to hear, worked-out or not." And be prepared to remind her she said she wanted it, no doubt. "Are you saying you work for High Reaches, now?" Again, Aishani has to point out, "That's different." Though she's amused about it, fingers tightening around his. "Yes, I did say that. But preferably beforehand." Just to clarify that she's not always going to be so 'easy' to talk down in the future. Smirking, she takes a step away from the hearth and towards him, shaking her head. "No, I work for myself. Anything else comes after." "I'll remember that," N'rov says seriously. He won't be able to say, later, that he wasn't warned. But the remainder of her approach, he greets that with a momentary smile. "It's going to be strange, talking 'Southern' and not meaning Boll. At least I have an idea what to pack.... but I won't stop you from giving me advice." Although she's accepted the situation, Aishani still doesn't like it, and isn't shy about it - although her pout is almost as playful as it would usually be, and she pulls on his hand a little in a show of reluctance. "Why should I give you advice? I'm not in favor of all this, I'm just not making a whole scene about it." Not much of one anyway. "Helping you pack is aiding and abetting." "Because if you don't give me advice," N'rov tells her with more humor, "I might live in my oiling-Vhaeryth cut-offs. Which means you'd be visiting a man who lives in oil-stained cut-offs." The comfortably tattered ones. Not to threaten, or anything. "That's your threat?" Shani's fine brows arch high, and though her eyes are still brighter, she's doing her best to look unimpressed. "Is that all you're going to wear? Because I really don't mind." It's her turn to look him over, though the chances of her not buying something for him are slim to none. "What do I get out of it?" "What do you want out of it?" N'rov asks, one brow lifted, and a moment later reaches for her waist to tug her close. It's harder to look him over that way, of course, but that's not his priority. "Other than an innocuous reason to visit a land of sunshine and waves and those fruity drinks you like." Bare feet shuffle on the floor as he pulls her in, Shani still letting a pout play about her lips. Resting slender hands on his chest, she glances up at him through lashes, now dried - if they were ever wet in the first place. "I'll think about it," she finally says, reluctant. It's not a great answer. "You can just worship me in the meantime. And it's not really an innocuous reason, visiting you." Worship. N'rov gives her an amused look, closer to a smirk, and with his free hand tugs a curling lock of hair just enough to straighten it before letting it go. Despite their spending time together this long, though, he doesn't seem to be immune to those lashes; "What kind of reason would you call it?" A slow grin surfaces at that look, and Shani's gaze shifts to watch his hand tug her curl; her talk of being worshipped doesn't stop her from catching his hand when he lets it go, straightening his fingers to kiss the tips. "Obvious." Her grin shades into a smirk of her own. That word gets an open laugh, N'rov's grey eyes still warm from her gesture. And he may be tired, but... "Let's go pretend we're already there," he says, immediately before hoisting his girl up into his arms and heading past the beaded curtain to go visit the most comfortable (and sand-free) island they're likely to find. |
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