Logs:Later
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 25 January, 2014 |
| Who: Ali, K'zin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Later comes for Ali and K'zin after Isyath's flight. Some things are addressed now, like names. Other things... they're left for later. |
| Where: Ali's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 11, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions, Iska/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Shevena/Mentions, V'teri/Mentions |
 |
| Ali's Weyr, Fort Weyr Most of the surfaces in this part of the cavern are smooth, including that of the wallow, rock worn down to a polished sheen. Shelves line the opposite wall, along with hooks affixed to hold straps and various riding gear. Beyond the narrow entrance to the weyrwoman's private quarters, the tip-tilted oblong cavern is spacious and well-appointed, walls washed with a pale wheat colour. Green-grey couches have been arranged to create a meeting area, the table and chairs beyond sat opposite the sideboard, with only a few steps between couches and table. Against one wall sits a large bed made up with plain sheets, several furs folded neatly lined-up with the pillows. The wide hearth lies opposite, a low, light pink couch set before it. Along the far wall, a bright blue curtain hides the bathing chamber and its oval-shaped pool.
They didn't quite make it as far as the bed, but the floor- with its furred rug- is a comfortable enough place to spend the evening. The air is chilly, which might be what's woken him up, and what might be stirring the dark-haired woman at his side: she's trying to bury in against him with a murmur of protest. Out on the ledge, Isyath is fast asleep and tucked against Rasavyth, radiating a starry contentment that is far less oppressive than the heat of the previous night, all gone. It's really an age old question, though one seldom asked: what do you do when you wake up not-quite-in-bed with your not-quite-father's baby-momma and know something happened last night? Does your answer change if she nestles that way? K'zin's still staring for another moment, but some internal prompting from an external source has the man shifting just a little, to wrap arms around the goldrider. Perhaps letting her freeze to death is determined to be the greater evil. They can figure out the rest once she wakes up. Although, maybe it's safer now, in this moment, before she wakes. It is quite a question, and one that'll take some working through. Perhaps that's why it takes Ali so long to figure out the 'not quite right', is not because they're on the floor so much that the body she's pressed up against isn't familiar in some way that nags at her brain until she stirs enough to crack an eye. He's... definitely not K'del, and that realization comes with a sharp intake of breath, held a moment before exhaling as she draws up enough to fully look at him through still-sleepy gaze. It'd be far too incongruous to try and act modest after the night they've had, but that doesn't make it any less awkward. "...you look familiar," she finally concludes. As Ali shifts, K'zin's arms loosen so she can shift, and by the time she's looking down at him, his expression is trying (and failing) to hide a look that's a little akin to how some of the herdbeasts must have looked when they realized the blooding dragons were coming for them. The young man swallows as he meets her gaze and he shifts, and then shifts again so he can first, pull himself out of contact with her body, and second prop himself up a little. "K'zin. We met at a hatching feast once." That seems a safe enough place to start. A lot less messy than some other answers he could have given. "K'zin," she echoes, and there might be a hint of remembrance in her gaze. Even Ali can't fail to be aware of his discomfort, and she sits up, drawing the furs mostly across her, though there's a little smile there still that's remembrance of something more recent, to judge by the considering chew of her lower lip. "Why- why don't you stoke up the hearth for some tea, while I find some clothes. Normally Shevena's assistants come in and do it, but I imagine they steered well clear last night." There's some kind of relief that shows, though the reason might not be obvious, as K'zin clears his throat and shifts further to sit up, "Yeah, okay." Both words aren't necessary, but his brain is probably still having trouble finding mastery of itself. His brow furrows as he squints, probably looking for pants, but telling one dark crumpled lump from another in the half-shuttered glow light by visual inspection alone isn't yielding results. It's internal prompting (that really isn't giving him good advice) that has him abandoning that search in favor of moving to the hearth and crouching, at as safe a distance as he can manage, to deal with building up the fire. Ali, meanwhile, waits until he's navigating away before she rises with a rustling of fur, padding silently into the nook of the bath room. Light spills out from there, making seeing what he needs perhaps a little easier. When she returns, she's wearing a thin dressing gown, and carrying a pot of water as well as a dark pair of pants. The latter she offers to him with a quiet, "K'del left these- you have about his height." If there's awkwardness in the words or what they mean, it's still dim enough that it might hide any color in her face. Legs flex at the sound of approach, to have K'zin standing and turning to face the approaching goldrider, hands folded, though still holding the fire poker, in front of... well. "K'del." The name is repeated before the bronze has a chance to censor it. He looks at the offered pants. Sleeping with a man's woman is one thing. Wearing his pants? That might cross some kind of line. Brown eyes flick past Ali, "Maybe I can find mine... I mean, they must be here, right?" There is awkwardness in K'zin's voice, in his face, in the way his toes curl and flatten against the floor and then repeat the motion. There's awkwardness, and standing in front of her holding nothing but a poker awkwardness. "Put the pants on," Ali says in her best Do What I Say voice. Which, let's face it, she's had some practice, and the pants are shoved in his direction with the expectation he'll take them. A little softer, a moment later, "K'del chose not to be here. I won't tell if you won't." About the pants, presumably, not about the flight, because that is a fairly obvious outcome. "Do you drink tea?" she asks, moving past him to set the pot on the hearth. K'zin is a little too stunned to refuse the pants, but not because of the voice, for all that it is probably as effective as it means to be since a moment later he's turning toward the fire, letting the poker slide to the ground so he can, in fact, do what she says. But that doesn't stop the blurt from making it out, "You know it's not like that for him." The words defending K'del's absence start before he's started to turn and end as the poker finds its momentary home on the floor. Then there's a grunt from K'zin, because, yes, he is of about a height with K'del, but there are other differences. Differences which means the pants can just make it on, barely, but might leave them worse off than when his hands were folded so neatly. That's definitely a fluster to Ali's demeanor, as she says firmly, "We're not going to talk about K'del. Not right now." With the nearly-naked, just-out-of-bed thoughts still close to the surface. While the pot warms and K'zin dresses, Ali retreats to the couch set just in front of the hearth, pulling bare feet up onto the couch under her, carefully adjusting the folds of her dressing gown for modesty. "Have you- is this your first?" there's sympathy in her voice now, and it's obvious she means Rasavyth's first, though it could be easily misunderstood. That's at least two votes for not talking about K'del, which means unless Isyath is on K'zin's side, there will be no more mention of that particular bronzerider. "Sorry," is even offered, but that's before Ali's question, which has K'zin whipping around as he does misinterpret, obvious from the way his cheeks are flushing, and the "What? No!" That pops out of his mouth. Although the blush might be stemming because as he twists so abruptly, there's the distinct sound of ripping. So much for tight pants. At least it's just a hole on a side-seam. It could've been worse. Then realization hits, and the blush worsens as K'zin's hand slides into place over his exposed thigh. "You meant Rasavyth's." He looks down to his toes, "First time with a gold. Second time ever. But this was--" He dares a glance over to the goldrider before it's back to the floor, "Different." He finishes. There's a widening of eyes at the sound of tearing material, a beat of silence, and then Ali actually laughs. "Sit down," she says, kindly, stretching out a hand as if to beckon him closer, "I'll fix them later. Don't worry. Try and- relax. I know- I remember my first time." She makes a face, awkwardly. "It's- intense. Sometimes it lingers for them, but-" with a glance at the ledge, then back to him, "Issy isn't given to overfondness of her mates; it won't last more than a day or two." There's some amount of relief, some breaking of the tension in the sound of Ali's laughter and K'zin's lips find their way to a goofy sort of embarrassed smile. He does move toward the couch to turn and carefully start to try to sit, only a first attempt and a second lead him to, "I might give you a lot more mending if I try. Let me find my pants first," his stepping away is almost hesitant, as if Ali might stop him from going with that Do What I Want voice she exercise so effectively if by no other means. "It... Yeah. It is intense. I can't really imagine him being over-fond of anyone, really, but he likes the idea of eggs. So maybe that'll make a difference." Then, and he pauses in his few steps that he's taken, to place fingertips on the arm of the couch, "I didn't-- hurt you-- or anything, did I?" There's a fold in his brow and concern in his baritone as he poses the question. Ali doesn't stop him, and indeed falls silent while he searches, listening quietly. The Weyr at large is quiet, likely only the bakers up this early. "I- Issy isn't very- maternal," she says, after a long pause, like she's bracing herself to say it. "So if he likes eggs that will- that would help. But- that won't be for a while yet." Is there relief in that thought? Perhaps. His latter question draws her gaze over and upwards, with a tiny smile. "It's fine," she murmurs, with a brief pat of fingers across his, before she rises and pads towards the hearth to check on the status of the pot's contents. There are only so many crumpled piles to check, and though the tightness of the current pants make it a bit of a challenge and there's at least one more ripping sound, K'zin returns shortly in his own pants, the abused loaners over one arm as he moves to sit on the couch. At least once in his search his mouth did open, but no words made it past the Bronze Censorship Bureau. Now that he's seated, though, he slowly finds words for another question, "I know this is going to sound stupid, especially considering who you are, and everything, but, I mean, it's only my second time, and the first time, we didn't talk much after because of who she was, and-- was it-- alright? I mean, good for you?" At least he has enough sense to blush as he asks. Making tea helps; Ali's always more comfortable playing the hostess than any other role, given it's the one she's done the longest. She's pouring carefully, and thankfully it's only after she's set the cups down on the low-slung table that K'zin's question sinks in. Standing there for a moment, there's a fluster: it's hard not to remember, and, "It's- it's always good. When it's her, and me, and-" a slow breath exhaled, as she moves to take a seat on the couch next to him, "You were good," she assures him, though whether that holds weight given what she started with is- well. She is still flustered, so that's something. "Yeah, I mean, it is with him, too," K'zin's hands are fidgeting on his knees, much as he's trying to sit politely still, so he pulls one of the pink throw pillows from next to him into his lap and lets his fingers occupy themselves on its edges. "I just-- I wasn't sure. And--" And that's enough of that. "Okay." He clears his throat, "So you said Isyath isn't given to overfondness. What about you? I mean," He has to quickly correct himself as the blush darkens on his dusky cheeks, "Not overfondness, but I mean, do you--" Flustered? Yes, it must be contagious, "I know some bronzeriders stick around to help out and stuff, that's all I mean." He finally manages in a rush, "Do you want me to do that?" Instead of answering his question, Ali asks one of her own, "Do you want to?" "Uh." A question K'zin was apparently unprepared for. It has him staring down at the pillow as though in its pinkness will show him the right answer. "I-- I don't really know how to answer that. I've never lived anywhere but 'Reaches before. And it might be better for my lifespan if I wasn't there for a while after this," What with K'del being the acting weyrleader and his wingsecond, and his friend, and all. "I've never been in this position before, so I don't really know what's expected. It's not like I have a lot going on at 'Reaches that would make it hard to be here if that's what you wanted." Which brings them back around to his question, and might not help answer hers. "There's not really- it varies, from gold to gold, and rider to rider." Ali gestures for the tea cup closest to him in silent invitation, as she reaches for her own, before sitting back. "I- V'teri, his Riuscyth won Issy's first flight. He wasn't- they weren't really interested. And there was- still is- politics between the Weyrs. I can't guarantee that you'll have a warm welcome if you do choose to stick around while she's on the sands, but-" a slow breath, as her gaze fixes on K'zin, "If you were willing, I'd- it would help. Issy- she doesn't like being on the sands. It's- difficult for me, to fight her. It's why I sent Iska to be with her father, because it'll take up all my time." A beat of silence, while she swallows, "But, K'zin, don't feel like you have to. I won't hold it against you; not every sire has any desire to be around. And I'm sure you have family- friends- at the 'Reaches who will miss you terribly while you're gone. Don't decide yet." K'zin listens, really listens, only interrupting his study of the goldrider's face to reach for the tea cup she indicated. He doesn't drink yet though, just holds it carefully in one hand. The other moves, once she's done speaking, to reach for her shoulder, palm laying lightly upon it. The touch tries not to be awkward, after all, they are two people who did an awful lot of touching not long ago, but awkward might just be the state of things now. "We'll stay." It's firm. A little less firm when he adds a moment later, "As long as we can get permission." From you know who! "Uh, though, we maybe should ask Weyrwoman Hattie and Weyrleader N'muir, too. Since. Well, since Rasavyth accidentally chased Elaruth and I had to write them to apologize, and-- all." Ali can't guarantee him a warm welcome, but they might have already guaranteed themselves a chilly reception. Then, "My family isn't at 'Reaches. And my friends have dragons." They can visit. "I told you not to dec-" but the thought goes unfinished, with Ali smiling, somewhere between wryly and gratefully (but at least not awkwardly) at the reassuring touch to her shoulder. "We'll have time, to soften them up to the idea. All of them," she adds, after a moment's consideration. "We might need all that time," she laughs, genuinely, now. "Let's just say that- some flattery of dragons and some show of good faith won't go astray. But let me talk to Hattie first." Which apparently means she intends to leave N'muir and K'del to K'zin. After all, it's Bronzerider Things. The touch doesn't overstay it's welcome, retreating at the appropriate interval to remain reassuring and not cross the border into creepy. The hand joins the other on the tea cup and K'zin takes a long sip. "Yeah." He agrees, though it doesn't have him laughing, "Listen, Ali-- Can I call you that?" He interrupts wherever he was going with the more serious tone to look over at her. "Do you prefer Weyrwoman or-?" That's about when Ali takes a sip of her tea, and there's a faint sound before she swallows. "I think we're on at least a first name basis," she replies, a little reproachfully. The small smile that appears on K'zin's lips is a combination of abashed and amused. "So, sweetner-britches or cupcake would be going too far? In public, anyway?" The look he flashes out of the side of his eyes towards Ali is impish. "Ali, then. You-" His lips pinch into an uncertain expression, "You know who K'del is, to me, right?" His brows rise a little, uncertainly. Maybe he's never come up. Maybe he hopes he hasn't. "That'd definitely get you decked," Ali says, laughingly, "And not by me." She's taking another sip from her cup, before she lowers it; her expression gets clouded, a little confused. "You're not one of his sons." She knows that much, head cocked to one side, questioningly. No, no. Now K'zin knows. What he wishes is that she did know exactly who he is, because then he wouldn't have to explain. The tea cup is moved to rest against his knee. "Well, if he decked me, that would make us even." His brow furrows as he mentally tries to sort. "Maybe it's not important." Since it apparently wasn't important enough for K'del to mention. And could it be that that hurts? Well, the look on his face briefly says so. Ali's obviously curious, and he did bring it up, but at the same time, she's far too polite to pursue it since he dismisses it- doubly so since they barely know each other. "We can talk about it in the morning, if you like." Except it very nearly is morning, but, "We agreed not to talk about him, remember? At least not now. How about you have a bath, and I'll see whether enough of the kitchen staff are awake enough to scrounge up an early breakfast." "Right." This agreement sounds more resolute the second time K'zin's making it. His tea cup is lifted and the rest of the tea is gulped down before he replaces it where he got it from and then he rises, hesitating. "You don't happen to have a bath, do you?" He might sound hopeful that he doesn't have to brave the cold maybe-barely-dawn-time air to get one. "Of course I do," Ali says, surprised that he is surprised. "One of the benefits of a ground weyr. I wouldn't send you out into the pre-dawn cold. I'm not that heartless," but the idea makes her smile, all the same. She stays seated- there's still her tea to finish. "There's towels in the room. And, K'zin?" This news has K'zin's expression shifting to pleased, and even grateful. He turns at his name to face her, not that he's stepped away from the couch just yet. "Ali?" "Thank you," Ali says, simply. So it's Ali's turn to inadvertently fluster K'zin. His blush deepens again, and a hand reaches up to find the back of his neck, rubbing there. "You're welcome," Only it almost sounds like a question. Then, "Ali?" If it's a question, it's not one Ali's aiming to answer. "Yes?" "Would it-" K'zin stops, his hand dropping away from his neck and to his side, eyes sliding to the goldrider sheepishly, "Would it be weird if we hugged? Before it's all over?" 'It' probably means this in between time period, before they have to face the rest of the world and their scandalized eyes. But at least he's not asking for seconds. That's a surprise, and enough of one that there's a brief hesitation, before the dark-haired woman stretches to set her tea cup carefully on the table. Would it be weird? Well, they'll find out shortly, because Ali's stepping over to wrap her arms around him. The thin material of her dressing gown provides a suitable barrier between them; there might be a glimmer of that remembered sensation, but she doesn't seem apt to linger there overlong. K'zin's arms perform in kind when he realizes she's stepping toward him for that purpose. The hug isn't exactly all platonic fuzzies. The closeness is a little more than that, the way K'zin's face is dipped and briefly pressed against her neck, not quite 'Seriously, K'del, we're just friends' material, but it doesn't last, he doesn't try to make it. It's the kind of hug that happens in this context alone and is never spoken of again. When he steps back from the goldrider, his lips curl into a small smile, "Thanks, Ali." It might be for the hug, or for everything, but without waiting, he's moving away from the couch, and toward the curtain which he hopes is the way to the bath. |
Leave A Comment