Logs:Living Together
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| RL Date: 26 May, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Oliwer moves his things in. Together, they're not successful at anything they set out to accomplish that day, but they have fun not accomplishing it. |
| Where: Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer & Oliwer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 11, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aseana/Mentions, B'gherio/Mentions, Baera/Mentions, Gaela/Mentions, Gaelan/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, Ghena/Mentions, Jadzia/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Laneri/Mentions, Leara/Mentions, Nieri/Mentions, Raleri/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr In clear weather, sun dapples the floor of the southward-facing weyr and reflects prisms of light from the fine glass that fronts wall after wall of neatly carved bookshelves. Empty now, but for a few volumes tucked up on a shelf, clearly this weyr is a bookworm's delight, all ready to welcome someone's collection of scrolls and finely bound volumes. The living space here has been sacrificed somewhat, cozy rather than spacious. There's enough room for a table and chairs in front of a hearth overhung with a precious maple-stained skybroom mantle, but the sleeping area is another nook carved into the wall, neatly laid with a comfortable double mattress. The linens are presumably stored in the lovely trunk set just to the side of the nook, a match in stain and wood-type to the mantle. Niches for glows are well-spaced along the tops of every shelf, the glow-holders made of interlacing strips of copper set with mica to give the light a mellow cast. All in all the space invites one to come in, curl up with a favorite drink and a book to read.
Moving can be overwhelming, even if one still has their own quarters. Oliwer probably hasn't lived with another person in many, many turns. But he hasn't backed out! And he's not going to now. The journeyman has been quietly putting away some of this clothes in the drawer that was already set aside for him before they decided to do This. "I don't know if you need to clear anything. I can always take anything extra back to my room. Or give it to the stores." In other words, Oliwer doesn't want to impose. Fortunately he doesn't actually have many belongings. There's no possibility that G'laer didn't anticipate this. Oli, not wanting to impose? Who'd've thought. "Oliwer." The tone is stern, but the greenrider makes up for it by intercepting the healer and kissing him firmly. He keeps his fingers cupping the healer's cheeks as he asks, pointedly. "Do you want to live here together or do you want to live with me? If the former, I insist you make some part of this place yours." Because despite his other insistence that Oliwer keep his quarters in the Craft Complex, for practicality, the younger man is, evidently, quite serious about this. Oliwer sighs at the way G'laer says his name, but probably because he knows he's being himself and how he can be more than anything else. He's been trying not to be so insecure where the greenrider is concerned. But sometimes it's still difficult. The kiss helps ease his thoughts, though. "Of course I want to live here together. I just don't want to... disrupt anything." Which is sort of just a different way of saying he doesn't want to impose. But he seems to think it's different, even if he can't explain it. He lifts his head away from G'laer's hands and points toward the only piece of furniture he didn't want to leave behind; a comfortable arm chair. "That bit's mine, yeah?" So he doesn't need to take more. G'laer probably can't help looking amused when the sentiment is re-expressed . It prompts him to lean in and peck him one more time before moving toward the chair. "It's a start," which means it's not enough. "Where exactly would you like it? By the hearth?" His glance takes in the rows of shelves, "I can clear some shelves." That might be an offer or a statement of inarguable intent. "If there's room," says Oliwer about the chair being placed near the hearth, but his gaze is already shifting toward the shelves. He eyes the things already there before glancing G'laer-wards again. "There will be plenty of time for me to get settled. It doesn't have to happen all at once. I'll admit even my mind has been stubbornly focused on sharing the bed more than the shelves." Oliwer and his clean, innocent mind. There probably isn't as things are arranged right now, but that's only a reason for G'laer to start rearranging the small collection of furniture to make room. "There's plenty of time to do both," the greenrider counters as he nudges the table over a few inches. "Whole day off. We can get you moved in and celebrate. If it would help motivate you, I can take my shirt off." He glances back over his shoulder toward the healer, smirking. That last comment makes Oliwer grin and even puts a visible rush of color into his cheeks and ears. "I'm not sure if that would be more motivating or more distracting. So lets hold off on that for now." Of course, he continues watching G'laer for a few moments like he might change his mind. But he finally clears his throat and goes back to putting away his clothes. "So is this going to change what we tell people we are?" Not that they've really ever told anyone they're anything. But they weren't living together then. The coloring turns the smirk into a satisfied smile: goal achieved! The chairs are the next to be shifted and then he's bending to tug the rug that's in front of the hearth to be more evenly positioned. Maybe it's just convenient timing and not by design that his face is hidden for that question. "You mean more than 'close friends'?" As was the healer's previous suggestion. "Do you want to change what we tell people we are? I'm pretty sure no one's going to buy just close friends in a weyr built for one." It is rather cozy in here. It's possible that Oliwer is avoiding looking at the greenrider at all now. Easier to talk that way. "It doesn't matter to me what we call ourselves. I know what you are to me. No one else needs to know that. But it might seem strange if someone asks and we fumble to answer." It's like getting a story right before you can be interrogated or something. "What would you tell your sister we are now?" "I'd tell her we're living together." G'laer answers unhelpfully as he moves to lift Oliwer's chair and set it into place at the hearth. He takes his time playing with the angles. "Though I suppose we'll have to sort out what to tell the rest of my family." He wrinkles his nose for that. He does look back when G'laer lifts the chair to move it. And he's probably wishing now that he'd let the greenrider take off his shirt. "Fair enough," notes Oliwer about the sister in question. Then, "The rest of your family?" Maybe he forgot that G'laer had any other family. Unlikely, but possible. "Is that necessary?" "I have two parents and six of my ten sisters living here in the Weyr. Not to mention two children. Either I tell them or I have to have yet another sit down with my mother to discuss why I didn't and don't I love her enough to share important things in my life with her, and don't I know I'm her only son?" G'laer sighs, "I've never met a woman with a more effective guilt trip." The greenrider smooths down the fabric of the chair as he speaks, as though giving it the final touches to really fit in the space. Then he turns, moving toward the dresser where Oli works. "She'll want to meet you." He frowns. Mothers. "No. Right. Of course. It's fine. But, I mean, you don't mind that I wasn't planning on telling my parents, do you?" Oliwer does not sound forty right then. "Shards, your children." Apparently they're something he hadn't given that much thought to when he agreed to move in with their father. "Is that a good or a bad thing?" he has to ask about G'laer's mother, pausing unconsciously to watch the greenrider as he refolds a shirt. "No. But that'll mean I'll need to have a sit-down with Laneri," who he's probably never mentioned, but that doesn't mean the name is unknown to Oliwer. "And it depends on how you feel about being mothered, I expect, but I've never brought anyone home before, so..." G'laer really doesn't know about his mother and the meeting that is certain to come. "Laneri?" Oliwer says the name like he recognizes it. It makes him frown, but he at least puts the shirt he's holding away as he asks the question he can already guess the answer to. "Laneri is one of your sisters?" This even trumps the fact that he'd apparently be the first person G'laer brought home. G'laer doesn't miss that inflection of recognition. "Second oldest. I take it you've met at the Hall?" It only makes sense of course, given that they're both journeymen healers. "She's not much of a gossip and I don't know if she knows your parents, but if you don't want them knowing..." He trails off, studying the older man's face. "What?" The fact that he frowned must have been lost on him until that moment. Oliwer doesn't say anything for a moment, thinking. Or maybe just trying not to panic prematurely. "She doesn't know already, does she?" "Can't think any reason why she would." G'laer's brow furrows. There's something here he's missing. He steps to the healer, seeking his hands. "What?" "She studies with my mother. Shells, my mother has tried setting us up." Oliwer makes that sound like a big deal. Maybe it is to him. Whether or not it is to anyone else is another matter entirely. His hands end up G'laer's easily enough but the journeyman is looking a little pale. Stupid small world. If it is a big deal to Oliwer, G'laer probably shouldn't laugh the way he does after the moment of silence it takes to process the healer's meaning. The laughter is hearty, Oliwer might not think so, but this is funny. "Maybe it was your mother's efforts that predisposed you to me." Oliwer definitely doesn't find this very funny, but all he does in retaliation is slip his hands from G'laer's and use them to give the greenrider a small shove. Right before wrapping his arms around him. "Unfortunately for my mother, I was predisposed to you long before she started trying to set me up with any woman." By which 'you' likely just refers to the fact that G'laer is not one of them. "You need to make sure Laneri isn't going to say anything to her." The shove only seems to heighten the amusement, but that doesn't stop G'laer from wrapping his arms around the shorter man. "Unfortunately for your mother, she was also predisposed to not like you long before your mother thought to set you up with her. At least according to Laghnei." The greenrider finds that a reliable enough source. "Don't worry, Oli. Laneri is one of the good sisters. And since Lani studies with your mother and you're her son and she still thought setting the two of you up was promising... I'd suspect she wouldn't believe Lani even if she did say something. Which she won't." He reassures, his hands resting loosely on Oliwer's hips. The relief that G'laer's reassurances cause is visible, obvious in the way he sighs out a carefully slow breath and tilts his head to rest against the greenrider's chest, relaxing. "Oh, thank Faranth. I had no idea she-- That's good. Good." Oliwer looks up at the younger man, looking a little sheepish. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me." Then, more boldly, "Although, now that you're over here, maybe you should go ahead and take your shirt off, after all." G'laer's dimple is showing as he smiles down at Oliwer. Then he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead before letting his hands move to his tucked in shirt to tug it free as he acquiesces to the request. "You know," and this is decidedly more serious, "Once people know, there is always going to be a chance that your parents will find out." He tosses his shirt onto the bed. "Are you sure you're alright with that? If it were to happen?" The greenrider may or may not be thinking about what his mother might do with the information once she has it, in the spirit of friendliness and good relations. Once the shirt is out of the way, Oliwer's hands find their way to G'laer's chest, sliding down to his abdomen and back up again. What do you expect? He's a fan of less clothed G'laer. "I know," he admits, possibly more mildly than he might without the distraction. "If it happens, there's not much I can do about it, I suppose. Except maybe avoid my parents for the rest of their lives." Which, obviously, isn't going to happen. Even he seems to know that as he says it. "If I have you, I think anything will be okay in the end." There's kissing. There has to be kissing after a comment like that. It's long. It's deep. It's very close to having them end up on the bed instead of just near it. But the greenrider manages to pull back, just a little. "We haven't finished unpacking. Or deciding what to call ourselves." Or really anything else they've started out trying to do. Oliwer is not above making that little sound of protest when G'laer pulls back. The bed is a very good idea. But the greenrider speaks truth, so the healer doesn't do anything uncharacteristic like demand he take off his pants, too. Even if he does glance down at them. "Right. I'll finish unpacking." Does that leave G'laer with the decision of what to call them? Whatever the case, Oliwer turns to see if there's any room left in the drawer before moving onto the next, putting away his things with an efficient sort of tidiness. If it does leave G'laer with the decision of what to call them, that might explain why as the healer turns, the greenrider opts to slip behind him and encircle his waist with his arms, pulling him snug against him. The bed is a very good idea. And the nibbling on the man's neck can't be helping further the goals previously listed. If Oliwer is expected to be the one to put them back on track, it's probably not going to happen. As soon as G'laer's arms are around him, he's conveniently forgotten about everything else. Clearly this is much more important than any of that. He can't be held accountable for pressing back all too invitingly against the greenrider. The Things G'laer Does To Avoid The Big Questions. Clearly, it's a hardship for him. (Ha.) Some hours later, when whatever clothes were on the bed ready to be tucked neatly into drawers or re-homed to shelves from what G'laer had stored in there are all over the floor mussed and in need of folding again, the greenrider confesses softly, "I don't know what to call us. I almost wish I could have you live with me and we still wouldn't have to deal with everyone else. And what they think. But people will assume of course, so..." So they should answer the question, somehow, some way. "You know, I think at least some people would buy it if I just said I'm so messed up that I need a live-in healer." It's supposed to be funny. But is it? Fortunately for G'laer, Oliwer won't be complaining about the avoidance. In fact, he seems quite pleased by it as a whole. "I'd buy it," he admits. Probably also supposed to be funny. "But I'm not quite the right sort of healer for that." He probably means the mindhealing sort. "I am technically your weyrmate now." Technical in the same way he's also a boyfriend; a friend who happens to be male. "Is there any reason we can't just use that?" Other than Certain Things he won't be bringing up right now. "I don't know, I think some would find me having the constant companion of a trauma healer appropriate. But then, those are the people who are afraid of me." G'laer does have something of a neutral-to-the-point-of-perceived-unfriendliness demeanor going on in public. It doesn't seem to bother him any that there are people who are afraid of him. "Technically." He agrees after a long moment. "For some, there is a certain connotation to that." Is he one of them? His tone doesn't say and certainly the stroking of his fingers idly along one of Oliwer's bare arms doesn't let on either. Even after everything G'laer has told him, Oliwer has some difficulty seeing the greenrider as someone to be afraid of. Of course he has no reason to be. But, "I'll have you know some people are afraid of me, too." Which is totally true! Sort of. Even for tenuously similar reasons, like pain and sharp objects. "For some, there is a certain connotation to two grown men living together in one little weyr." Flawless logic. "Given." G'laer agrees after a small smile for Oliwer's claim at fearsomeness. Hopefully the look isn't too patronizing. "Those assumptions happen to be spot on." He adds as he bends his head to trail kisses along the healer's neck. "Significant other is accurate, but awkward for conversation," he ventures when his trail is done. Even the pleasant trail of kisses won't keep Oliwer from asking, "If you aren't comfortable calling me your weyrmate, G'laer, why did you ask me to move in with you?" He's not upset, but he is curious. "If there's no one else," is he still not sure? "And if you don't intend to ask me to leave in the next few sevens, I don't need you to say you love me, but it would be nice to be honest with at least each other about what this arrangement is." Never mind they were talking about what to call themselves in regards to other people. Damnit. G'laer buries his face against the healer's neck a moment, breathing in deeply before lifting his head and shifting so he can look down at Oliwer. "I am," rueful, then less so, "you are." So he claims, anyway. "I just," his nose wrinkles, "The thing is-" Yes, G'laer, what is the thing? "The last time I was in love, it was complicated. I wanted to put things completely to bed before-- Well, so there was no chance something long past might end up hurting you in some way." Then another slow breath later he's lying back on the bed. "And I'm waiting for the right moment." He doesn't make clear exactly to which thing this is referring, but it doesn't sound linked to the last thing he said. "Do you still love someone else?" This thought apparently hadn't occurred to Oliwer. It's G'laer. He's not exactly the sort of man one attributes long-held feelings to. "Is it your wife?" That would seem to make the most sense, but he sounds confused all the same. When the greenrider lays back, Oliwer shifts up on one elbow to study the other man's face. "Not exactly," which certainly can't be as comforting as a solid 'no.' "I'd just... not gotten around to closing every door. Not my wife. That door's been closed for over ten turns." G'laer looks to Oli, "I went yesterday, to try to make sure it was all sorted, and it was-- complicated. More certainly than I anticipated." Oliwer frowns as he listens. This is not the sort of face he should be making after such pleasant activities. "Complicated? What do you mean complicated?" There are probably a lot of questions rolling around in the healer's head right now, but that's the only one he manages to ask. "Are you sure you want to know?" G'laer has to ask, looking at Oliwer steadily, lips curling down into a frown. No. Definitely not. That's what Oliwer should say. He should just leave it at that. But, for whatever reason, he can't. "Yes. Tell me." "Some turns back," vague, "there was a girl," vague; girl, not woman, "who was too young for me, but who sought to make something between us." Vague. "Nothing more than a kiss ever passed between us, but I found myself with feelings-- inappropriate feelings because of the situation," vague, "and I did what was best. Which meant never pursuing those feelings." Can Oliwer see how that would make it hard for G'laer to have closure? "She gave me something once and I went to return it to her, only what I did turned out not to have been best for her. So feel somewhat conflicted about my impact on her life. I'd-- like to make amends. But she's not the sort to allow that to be easy." "A girl." Oliwer repeats that. He doesn't seem to like it. But he lets G'laer continue without further interruption. Then, once the greenrider pauses, the healer doesn't seem entirely sure what to say. "What sort is she? Does she want amends? Some girl you used to know, some turns back, isn't your responsibility now." The greenrider looks a trifle uneasy as he watches Oliwer react. To answer the questions requires G'laer to go into some detail, which he seems reluctant to do. "I think we're getting off track here. I thought we were talking about how you're my weyrmate now." Is him saying that aloud enough to get him off the hook for the rest? Oliwer gives G'laer a look that he doesn't often receive from the mild-mannered healer. It's his disappointed dad face. Or close enough. "Right. Of course." This means, at least, that he's not going to push for more details. Not right now. But it also means he's moving to get out of bed to start picking up the clothes they'd sent to the floor. "Faranth," G'laer swears and reaches for the healer, seeking to pull him back into his arms rather than let him get out of the bed. "I swear you could have whatever you want of me." Apparently, G'laer counts as one of those overly affected by Oliwer's disappointed dad face. But perhaps it's nice to know that at least it seems as difficult for G'laer to resist Oliwer as Oliwer, G'laer. "She was under my command in the guard. Well, not directly, but under one of the people who was under me. The life of a guard didn't suit her and I wanted to get her out while she was still young enough to take on a full career or life that would make her happy and would suit her, so I had her turned out of the guard. Turns out, she took the nearest job she could do well, and not one that fulfilled her hopes for her life, and she blames me. I don't feel exactly responsible, but I have some culpability in matters. I feel like I should help her. Isn't that what a good person would do?" And doesn't Oliwer want him to be a good and decent man? "But I don't have those sorts of feelings for her," he thinks, "not anymore," he hopes, "I just wanted to tie up all the loose ends in my past before we were making a real go of it all." Commitment and all that. The healer is drawn back against the greenrider, in part because he doesn't actually want to leave, but probably mostly because G'laer is G'laer. As the details are offered more freely, Oliwer listens, quiet and attentive, doing his best to understand the situation. His jaw tightens just noticeably when G'laer brings up being a good person, but it's not like he can argue with that point. And he'll just have to take the other man's word on his feelings. "So," he begins, "How were you planning on helping her?" "No idea." The words come swiftly enough that it's probably the truth. "All I've done so far is piss her and my dragon off. I'll have to see her again sometime, likely, but hopefully not till I've sorted what to do." The greenrider's embrace tightens a little, "What can I do to get you thinking about something more pleasant?" Clearly G'laer hasn't divulged all the details yet, but he has been more forthcoming than usual. That apparently satisfies the healer well enough for now. Oliwer smiles in that tightened embrace, leaning in to kiss the greenrider's jaw affectionately. "I wouldn't mind hearing you call me your weyrmate again. I kind of like the way that sounds." He can get more details later. "Why don't we finish unpacking and then get something to eat, hmm?" So not just technically then. Not that that shows on his face. Gs at the older man a long moment (which does nothing if his want was to downplay the special qualities of the word). Then a deep breath later, "You are my weyrmate, Oliwer." He even looks him in the eyes when he says it, and his eyes are holding some measure of unguarded emotion (the good kind) when he says it. Then he spends a moment kissing his healer before slowly starting to disentangle himself for the tasks ahead: unpacking and a meal. |
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