Logs:Long Night, Long Day
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| RL Date: 24 May, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Unexpected events turn the night into a long one, and the day that follows follows suit. |
| Where: G'laer's weyr, HRW; Somewhere; Healer Hall; Hot Springs, HRW |
| When: Day 18, Month 11, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Laghnei/Mentions, Rakshala/Mentions |
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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.
Nope, he's awake. Oliwer only wishes he were that heavy of a sleeper. That doesn't mean he's not confused by the rude awakening, though, sitting up much more slowly than G'laer had managed. And sans any sort of weaponry. He eyes the lizard that had been making so much noise, but the question is most likely for the greenrider he's landed on, "What's going on?" He's awake? Good. Then G'laer doesn't have to waste time waking him. Instead he's rolling out of bed and finding his pants where they ended up on the floor. The firelizard takes flight as soon as the greenrider is moving. "The woman." The one he hasn't mentioned in months. "She's having her baby. We have to go." The one he mentioned only once, when he was drunk. That he later denied having mentioned. Clearly, there's going to be a Talk later, but now? There's not a lot of time for talk as the man is throwing on his clothes, only action. This is kind of a lot for a man that's not up to date with what's going on to absorb all at once, especially having just woken up. So, like any good healer, Oliwer goes on autopilot without stopping to ask a lot of questions. There's a person that needs a healer and that's enough for now. Later, though. Later there will be some sort of discussion, surely. The journeyman goes through the motions of getting dressed and ready to go. He even has one of those bags he promised to keep with him at all times from now on. The rest of the action unfolds just as one might expect. G'laer was prepared; he knew this was coming sometime. So supply bags are already packed and it's just a matter of getting Teisyth's straps on, the supplies loaded and secured, and them up into the straps. Then it's up, up and a blink into between. They come out-- somewhere. It's dark save for the moon and stars. And the light below. There's shadows of mountains looming close and when they land, it's on a small rocky outcropping. Wherever this place is, it's far from the usual haunts of men. There's a light coming from within a small stone structure that looks more like the temporary living quarters of a mountain shepherd than a true cothold. G'laer is quick to unload, quick to usher Oliwer inside. Quick to introduce him to the single occupant, a woman named Rakshala already in the throws of labor and certainly in need of Oliwer's attention. G'laer is there to provide extra hands. To boil water, to do whatever the Journeyman needs. If Oliwer has any questions about where they are and why this woman is here giving birth in these sorts of conditions, he keeps them to himself. They aren't important right then. At least not as important as why he's here. It might be noted that he's rather more level-headed here where it's not G'laer in need of his medical attention. The introduction gives the journeyman the woman's name and he uses it now and again to keep her attention focused during the pain, to give her important instructions and, when it's all over, to tell her, "You have a beautiful new daughter, Rakshala." The moments in which Rakshala can enjoy the fruits of her labors are too brief. As the new mother is taking the child to breast, Oliwer is presented with a new challenge. She's bleeding. It won't take long for the healer to realize that it's too much. Much too much. G'laer is quick with more cloths, more hot water, but even he knows how much blood outside the body is too much. An exchanged look between Oliwer and G'laer is all it takes for both to know where things stand. The greenrider moves to the woman's side and speaks to her, softly. The words probably don't make much sense to the audience of the journeyman, but they seem to reassure the woman whose tears slip down her cheeks and who clutches her child close unto the last. The babe wails as the greenrider carefully removes her. He doesn't look back at the body. "We need to go." He says simply, expression grim. "She'll need a wetnurse." Judging from the squaling of the newborn, that can't happen too soon. It's never easy for a healer to lose a patient. Losing one at such an emotionally jarring moment, and knowing he can't actually do anything to stop it, is even harder for Oliwer. By the time she slips away, there are tears in his eyes, too. Unlike G'laer, the journeyman stares at the mother for several long moments before finally choking out an, "I'm sorry," to her. The newborn's wailing pulls him back to now soon enough. "We can't just leave her here." The mother, not the babe. But when he looks at the tiny little girl, he adds, "The Hall. There will be some at the Hall." With one arm tucked securely around the bundled babe, G'laer steps to the healer and reaches his free hand to touch Oliwer's cheek and wipe away a tear streak with his thumb. His face betrays no emotion; he's still in action mode. His voice is firm. "She can wait. The babe can't. I'll come back for her." Maybe it won't occur to Oliwer until later that there's enough room on the green to take the woman with them, even if it would take more time, "Let's go. To the Hall." This, at least, he can agree to. Oliwer is clearly troubled, gaze shifting to G'laer's face as the greenrider wipes a thumb against his cheek. But he nods, perhaps comforted by the other man's tone and that he says he'll come back for her. He takes a brief moment to rub some of the blood off of his hands, probably not as much as he'd like, before gathering up his bag and following G'laer to his lifemate. G'laer doesn't look back as they leave the small dwelling. He doesn't look back as he helps Oliwer up onto the green, carefully passing up the babe before he's securing the bag and climbing up. Teisyth's ascent is different, more careful, not exuberant. Once they're high enough, she betweens. Those two breaths of nothingness that so often unnerve probably help G'laer's calm, though they do nothing for the crying of the babe. Her landing is swift and neat, G'laer's dismount is the same. He reaches up to take the babe and offer the healer a hand down, but once he's on the ground there in the courtyard, G'laer touches Oliwer's shoulder. "Oli, it's important that you don't tell anyone her mother's name. She's just an orphan. Promise me. I'll explain it all when we're back at the Weyr." The healer tries to calm the newborn once they're on this side of between but there's really not much he can give the babe that she wants or needs right now. Once they've landed and dismounted, G'laer's touch and words draw Oliwer's gaze with a furrow in his brow. It's pretty obvious that he has questions. But instead of asking them, for now, he just nods. "Right. Sure. I promise." His tone isn't entirely approving but he gestures in the direction of the nursery, where they'll be able to find someone to help with the newborn's needs. "You take her. I have to go back. I'll be back for you in a couple of hours. See that they get settled to find her a good home. If there are expenses, I'll pay them." G'laer's words are swift and quiet. "Best if you can avoid talking about where we were," Not that he has any idea. "And the circumstances. But not so much as to make anyone suspicious." Maybe he's over-thinking this. "You're leaving already? No. You're right," says Oliwer, accepting what's happening even if he's still not entirely sure what's happening. He takes the babe and looks at G'laer like he might want to kiss him, just for the comfort of it. But he turns away instead and starts to head off like he knows exactly where he's going. The good thing is that he actually does know exactly where he's going. "We'll be fine," he assures the greenrider. G'laer trusts in that, so he wastes no time mounting up once more. They're gone and it's more than three hours before they're back and landing, this time in the landing field outside. The greenrider comes looking for the Journeyman then, a little dirtier than when he left and smelling of smoke and firestone. Surely that's not so unusual for a rider? He starts his search with where Oliwer directed him before. The nursery. If not there, he'll follow the trail of 'last seen' if he can get it from the healers on duty. When G'laer finds Oliwer, he's in the dining hall, sitting alone at the end of a table with a mug of klah held between his hands. He's since cleaned up more thoroughly and the newborn isn't with him now, which is likely to be expected. There isn't anything in the way of small talk when G'laer approaches, only blue eyes seeking blue, and a single word: "Ready?" Oliwer glances up at G'laer but doesn't respond right away. He takes a final drink from his klah, though, and rises to his feet, which will have to serve as answer enough. Once Oliwer is on his feet, the greenrider reaches to briefly clap Oliwer's shoulder in a way that might just seem friendly to onlookers, but his hand lingers just a moment longer than friendly requires before dropping it and heading out. And out. And out. To the field where Teisyth waits. It's only once they're there, alone that the man asks quietly, "Mind a stop at the 'Reaches hot springs so I can wash up?" In true Oliwer fashion, the journeyman offers a smile. But it's drained of emotion and tired, lacking most of that spark of usual warmth it has. He follows G'laer out to where Teisyth is waiting, not breaking the silence as they go until the greenrider does himself. "Of course not. Whatever you need," he responds, trying one of those smiles again without much more success. That's the moment when Teisyth just so happens to have to stretch her wings. And, oh, does that happen to conceal the men from any unlikely onlookers? G'laer must have known it was coming, for he steps close to the healer and crushes him to his body in a strong embrace, head bending to seek his lips in equally so consuming a kiss. But no words, not yet. Not even once he's helping the healer up into the straps, not once they're in the air or out the other side. Words come once they're on the ground at the springs though. "Teisyth says we're alone." Though day has already long since broken, it seems they've luck at least in this. "Come in with us?" He invites. In the comforting strength of G'laer's embrace, Oliwer returns that kiss like he might never be able to kiss the greenrider again, a stark contrast to his near listlessness only moments before. It definitely helps. When they arrive at the springs, Oliwer still looks tired, but he's not so tired that he can't try another smile, this time somewhat more successfully. "Only if you promise not to let me fall asleep." "I promise that if you fall asleep, I won't let any harm come to you." Like drowning. One death in a twenty-four hour period is really more than enough. The promise isn't quite the exact one Oliwer asked for, but it's the one he's getting. When the greenrider starts to undress the healer, it's not in a way that he ever has before. There's no sense of sexual intent, but rather gentility in what is most definitely an effort in care-taking. As he lifts the man's shirt off over his head, provided the healer is cooperative, G'laer asks softly, "Do you have duties today? I can have Teisyth pass a long a message to the healers," not directly, of course, "that you won't make it in today." Because, as far as he's concerned, there's no way Oliwer is going to work today, even if he was supposed to be. Oliwer doesn't protest the promise G'laer gives him because, let's face it, sleeping sounds pretty fantastic right now. He's not going to give in to the idea of sleep too easily, though, because G'laer is just as fantastic. He's as cooperative as he can be while running on fumes, and he seems touched by his lover's tenderness. "I do. Maybe just tell them I'll be in a bit later, though." He apparently doesn't share G'laer's ideas on him going to work. But he's forty and he's done basically nothing but work since he could practice. It's just what he knows. G'laer swings the shirt over his shoulder and lets his hands slide down to the healer's belt and trouser fastenings. He doesn't frown, but he does ask, "Anything you can't reschedule or must handle personally?" He has to think about that for a few moments before he shakes his head. "I suppose not, no." It's a weird thing for Oliwer to admit. Or, at least, it's weird for him. But then he's reaching up to touch G'laer's face, brushing over his cheek with his thumb. "You're okay, right? I wish there was more I could have done." G'laer probably could say 'fine' and it would be the truth, but maybe even he would find that a bit callous. Instead he nods his reassurance before turning his head into the healer's touch to kiss the inside of his palm. "I'll have her tell them you won't be in." The greenrider helps nudge the healer's trousers down before leaving it up to him to step out of them as he starts stripping off his own clothes, heading for the warm waters and out of the autumnal air just as soon as he can. Oliwer stands there for a moment, watching G'laer as he starts to strip out of his own clothes. His fond little smile comes back, but then he's moving to step out of his pants and into the water, settling in like it's the best thing that's happened to him all day. Once G'laer is in the water and had a moment to enjoy the heat, Oliwer shifts closer to wrap his arms around the greenrider's shoulders, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before pulling back to look at him. "I need to say something. And I don't want you to feel like you need to say anything back. That's not important. I just... I need you to know. In case something happened and I never said it. I need you to know that I love you." There's something like concern in his face when he says it, this has proven to be kind of an awkward subject, after all. But there's something very earnest, too. And then Oliwer is shifting away, maybe to emphasize that he does not need nor expect G'laer to return the sentiment. Plus the poor man wanted to clean up. G'laer's arms reflexively curl around Oliwer's waist when the healer comes close, returning the kiss and then-- looking at him when he pulls back. His expression, as is fairly frequent, is carefully neutral. He doesn't know what's happening until Oliwer begins to speak. He doesn't stop him, but neither does he have words to return the sentiment. Even if it hadn't been so brief a time between the last awkward conversation and this one, G'laer mightn't say it here, now, because of the circumstances. It's easy to get caught up in a moment, harder to say it outside of one, when the sentiment is more enduring. But when the older man is starting to shift away, G'laer's arms are not loosening. In fact, it's the opposite. The healer is pulled tight against him for the second time that night and the greenrider spends some time engaged in tenderly kissing the man who loves him before his arms start to loosen and he slowly breaks the kiss. "I owe you some explanation," which is to say, he's changing the subject. A kiss is entirely more agreeable than awkward silence and Oliwer getting self-conscious about saying anything at all. Once the kiss breaks away, the healer is relaxed against G'laer, but he leans back to look at the other man's face. "We don't need to talk about that now. I do want to know, I think." Does he? "But maybe after a nap." "Alright," G'laer agrees after a moment of thought. "Then you soak and I'll get clean." If there's no argument, then that's what happens. Once they're out of the springs one of Teisyth's strap packs has a towel they can share and a non-descript change of clothes for G'laer. It might raise the question why G'laer carries a change of clothes and towel with him, but maybe they're too tired to deal with that just now. Then it's back to the weyr, back to the bed, the greenrider wrapping his arms around the healer and falling asleep. When Oliwer wakes, though, he's alone. There's food on the table and by the hearth to keep some of the contents warm. There's a note that reads, "Not as esteemed as a Journeyman who never misses a duty day. Have wing drills. Back before dinner. Send your firelizard to me if you need a lift down before then." This leaves Oliwer on his own to poke about the books, dried herbs, weapons and other junk amassed neatly in the rows of shelves, or not, as he likes. G'laer, true to his word, will return at dinner time with food fresh from the caverns, looking a little tired, but not too much worse for wear. When Oliwer wakes up and finds G'laer's note, he might comment on how the greenrider convinced him not to go to work while planning all along to do just that. He probably doesn't swear about it, though. This is Oliwer. Whatever he does to pass the time until G'laer returns, the only thing that's obvious is that he's helped himself to a bit of the available alcohol. Maybe a little more than a bit considering the glazed but affectionate expression G'laer is greeted with. "Good day?" "Best part is right now." G'laer answers as he steps to where the healer sits by the hearth, bending to press a kiss to his temple. "I'm going to get changed." And that's what he does, crossing the space to his sleeping area, stripping out of his riding leathers with efficiency and moving to the press to find a fresh set of looser clothes. Oliwer smiles at that answer and takes a sip from the glass he's still holding in one hand. When G'laer goes to change, the healer turns slightly in his chair to watch the greenrider. After a few moments, he turns back to the hearth. "If I'd known you were going to drill, I wouldn't have agreed to take the day off." He doesn't sound upset, though, just talking. In fact, like usual, he sounds pretty pleasant about it. "If I could have gotten out of it, I would have." That might or might not be true. But G'laer says it earnestly enough. "And you needed sleep." Because he's the expert here on human health, right? The greenrider's just gotten his pants on when he glances toward the table where he dropped dinner on his way in. Then he sinks down onto the edge of the bed, covering his face with his hands to take some slow deep breaths. It's not the food that earns Oliwer's attention. When he glances back at G'laer again, he frowns, shifting to rise and set down his glass on the table. He doesn't say anything as he crosses toward where his lover is sitting on the edge of the bed, but his concern is pretty obvious on his face. It's a count of five before the greenrider's hands fall away from his face. When they do, his expression is briefly unguarded. He looks tired, but not the kind that sleep will fix. In that brief moment, it might even seem Oliwer is the younger man. But then his customary mask falls back into place and he stretches his arms above his head before finding the healer's face. He lets a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and his arms open in invitation as he asks, "Did you sleep well?" Like there was no moment; like everything is just fine. If Oliwer were more sober, he might not ask. He rarely does when it's obvious that G'laer doesn't want to talk about something. That's just the sort of person the healer is. But Oli isn't more sober right now, so he accepts the invitation as he asks, "What's wrong? Talk to me, Gal." "Nothing." It's an automatic answer. G'laer's arms fold around the healer and then G'laer draws back just enough to meet the healer's gaze. Then there is conscious choice and he speaks quietly, "It's just been a very long day. I wish things could have gone differently. For her. For her child." Then he asks, "They'll see to it she's placed well?" They must mean whoever takes care of that at the Hall. "Of course," is the first thing that Oliwer thinks to say, his voice unconsciously sympathetic. "I mean, I imagine so. I don't know much about how they place children. But it's the Hall." Which is meaningful to him. "She'll be well taken care of. Maybe she'll even grow up to be a healer herself." That's not entirely relevant but the thought makes Oliwer smile all the same. "If it were up to you, they'd all grow up to be healers." There's muted amusement and affection in G'laer's voice as he hugs the healer to him briefly before releasing him completely. "Good," is the serious response to the rest. It isn't that the greenrider trusts the Hall, but he does, it seems, trust Oliwer and his belief in it. He doesn't ask for details, doesn't want them, most likely. He shifts back on the bed to recline onto the pillows at its top. "Explanations?" He offers. Does Oliwer want to know? "Only the good ones," Oliwer answers with a grin. When he's released, he presses a brief kiss to G'laer's cheek and watches him recline. The question is considered for a few moments before he asks, "Is it going to happen again?" He probably means getting whisked off to attend the medical emergencies of unknown people in questionable circumstances more than what he probably hopes will never actually happen again. G'laer's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug before his fingers knit across his scarred abdomen. "Not if you don't want it to." Now his expression is extra neutral, the kind of neutral that means he's actively concealing something. Identifying this expression is probably something only one who's seen him less guarded often would be able to do. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for Oliwer, he qualifies. "Is there someone else that can, or will, help them?" That's really the most important question as far as Oliwer is concerned, but he probably doesn't miss the meaning behind G'laer's neutrality. "Is there anyone else I trust who could help them? No. Will I get them help if they need it and it's within my power? Yes." But that doesn't guarantee it. "They're not your responsibility." G'laer answers keeping his tone largely drained of feeling. Oliwer will be the judge of who is and isn't his responsibility, so he doesn't comment on that. Even if it basically means anyone he might be able to help is his responsibility as far as he's concerned. "And they're yours? What aren't you telling me?" "They are." G'laer confirms simply. His look is serious, brows furrowing slightly. "Everything you didn't ask to to know," to be perfectly precise about what he isn't telling Oliwer. That was his original question after all. "What do you want to know?" Then quickly, "Understanding everything I tell you now is not something you can even breathe a thought about outside this weyr." Super Secret Stuff. Part of Oliwer still probably doesn't want to know. If it's something G'laer is keeping from him, it must be for a good or practical reason, and he certainly trusts the greenrider's judgment in that regard. But. "I don't want you to have to hide whatever you're hiding, G'laer. Especially not when it affects you like it does." By which he means at all, most likely. "I want to know whatever you're willing to tell me." He also wants to go get his drink, because he has a feeling he might need it and that pleasant buzz is starting to fade, but he's listening. "Well," This is G'laer gathering his thoughts because... where to start? Most likely the greenrider wasn't expecting an answer that is tantamount to saying 'Tell me everything.' "Do you trust everything the Hall tells you?" It's not exactly an explanation, but maybe he's getting there. That's an interesting question, judging by the expression Oliwer dons for a moment when he glances back at G'laer. "Of course not," he says as he picks up his drink, takes a sip, then decides it could use a little more alcohol in it. "Too many Masters are more worried about politics and agendas than healing. It's hard to think some of them ever joined the Hall to be healers in the first place, sometimes." It's quite possibly the most cynical thing Oliwer has ever said. It's just that he's said the same thing to a few people over the turns. That's an interesting answer, judging by the expression G'laer dons for a moment when he glances over at Oliwer. Furthermore, it wasn't the expected answer, so there's a little bit of surprise and then a spontaneous smile curls on his lips. He reaches up a hand and curls a finger to request him back to the bed. "I used to believe everything the guard told me. I started bounty hunting when I was through training, when I was sixteen. And for the first many turns, I believed every bounty that came my way." There's a slight cant to his head, a sort of silent question of if this is an okay way to start. With his drink, Oliwer returns to sit down on the edge of the bed and shift back toward the head so he can listen and drink comfortably at the same time. "I suppose I trusted more when I was younger," he admits, nodding for G'laer to continue. "I was young then," G'laer feels the need to reiterate; clearly, he's less trusting now. "I was good at what I did, and cocky about it all. It didn't help that Aseana was just as young and inflated my ego well beyond healthy proportions when I'd bring home the cache from a successful hunt." The greenrider takes the moment to shift nearer the healer, but doesn't touch him. "I never thought twice about any of it. Then there was a hunt that changed it all for me," But he doesn't elaborate, "I started checking my facts. As you might imagine, some bounties that get put out are for really stupid things, or put out by someone powerful with marks to spare." He shifts his hands off his abdomen and his fingers find the covers, twisting the top most just a bit. It's easy to see this is difficult for him to talk about, even to Oliwer. Oliwer listens quietly and attentively, crossing his legs at the ankle. His gaze doesn't stay fixed uncomfortably on G'laer's face, instead drifting down to the greenrider's chest before settling on nothing in particular. At least until the hand draws his attention. Oliwer moves one of his own to cover it, offering a brief squeeze if it doesn't move. Instead of coming to his own conclusions, though, the healer waits for the greenrider to continue on his own. The hand stays, and G'laer briefly glances gratefully toward Oliwer. "So one time instead of collecting, I helped them get away. One of the ones that deserved it." Because that's his call to make right. "Some had places they could run away to; their own contacts, their own resources. Others..." He shakes his head and his hand slides from Oliwer's to come together with his other hand to show they had nothing. "So over time there've been those I've helped to hide, to keep them from being another mindless collection. It works out better for some than others." He frowns deeply at some memory that is not voiced. "I've told only one other person about this, until now. Each of them think they're the only one. These secrets are to keep them safe." This is certainly not the only kind of secrets he keeps. It's a few moments before Oliwer says anything. But a smile briefly pulls at the corners of his mouth before he can do that much. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise. However," he continues as he gives the greenrider a serious look that is probably in some part due to the alcohol, "I feel like this supports my conclusion that you're a better person than you give yourself credit for." Or because Oliwer really, really wants to believe that. That makes G'laer sigh. "I wish that were true, but it isn't, Oli. It's not like the good things I do balance out the bad. You know it doesn't work like that." He looks at the healer a long moment before scooting down to lie flat, eyes finding the blankness of the ceiling. The frown that crosses Oliwer's expression is even more brief than his smile had been. He watches G'laer lay down further against the bed for a moment, then sets his glass aside. After taking one more drink. Then the healer shifts down to lay alongside the greenrider, moving a hand to splay over the younger man's abdomen. "I know. I do. But the man I know is decent and caring. In his way. I don't like the idea that I don't actually know you at all. That's not what you're trying to tell me, is it?" "No," that at least comes reassuringly swiftly. "I'm just not always. She makes me better, inside. But I'm still not always a decent and caring man, not even just in my own way. And I tell you this because I do want you to know me." Maybe some part of G'laer is trying to warn the him. "So the man that I've known for months doesn't exist or?" He sounds like he's being dramatic to make the point that he doesn't actually believe that. But any truth there could prove troublesome considering the recent profession of his love. Oliwer slides back up on one arm. It's easier to look down at G'laer like that. And maybe it's easier for him to demand things from that vantage point. "If you want me to know you, G'laer, you need to be you. I don't like feeling like the pathetic open book. Like some old man you keep around for a nice, quiet night to get away from what you hide from everyone." Not that recent nights have been particularly quiet. "I don't know." These three words are delivered quietly and with gravity and are likely meant to address the first question. "I'm trying to figure that out, to be honest." It sounds exhausting. "Before day 22, month 2, turn 33, I knew exactly who I was. I was content, fulfilled even. Then she came along and everything is different! There are all these feelings that never were before. I don't know how to sort it all, Oli. I don't know how to reconcile things. Who I was, who I am, who I seem to be. It's one big mess in here," one hand thumps his chest. "The man I was isn't someone you could ever have loved. And I don't want to be someone you couldn't love, but I can't erase who I've been and who I sometimes still am. Once your hands have blood on them, they never come clean. Not fully. You never stop being prepared to do the deed and not lose sleep." Though really, judging from the frequency of nightmares, G'laer doesn't really keep his sleep well anyway. "I don't care about the man you used to be. Maybe I should, I don't know. I only care about who you are now." Oliwer looks a little sad in the few moments of silence that follow, then, "I love you, G'laer." That just gets easier and easier to say, dang it. "But maybe you need more time to figure out who you are. Or who you want to be." That is to say, time away from him, from them. Oliwer studies the greenrider's face before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." Which might be funny coming from Oliwer at any other time. There's a moment of inner struggle that's shown on G'laer's face as he gazes up at Oliwer. It doesn't have to do with the three little words, but what came before. "I've had almost two turns now. I don't want to let life just pass me by just because I'm still sorting it all out." He takes a deep breath before he can articulate, "I just can't let myself get in too deep if it's going to happen that one day I'll do what I've done before," or close enough to, "And you leave me because you can't look at me, can't love me after that." And the even more serious and a little pained, "I can't make you a promise that I'll never take another life or put another man-" He probably also means woman or possibly even child, but this conversation is difficult enough without getting into the specifics, "-in the infirmary. Could you still love me if I did?" Maybe it's a good thing Oliwer is a little looser-tongued than usual right now. If he wasn't, he might not be quite so honest. But he's sincere when he says, "I have a hard time picturing not loving you for any reason. But I don't know if I can answer for something I can't imagine happening. I'd like to think that... that you'd have a good reason. For hurting anyone. But even if you did, the thought is hard to process. I don't know if I'd believe it unless I saw it. And I'm not sure, if I saw it, that I..." That he could still love him? The denial is strong in this one. G'laer hasn't had a drop of alcohol, or tea for that matter, and yet perhaps it is Oliwer's imbibing that makes his own tongue that much looser and his choices that much bolder. Maybe he's just that tired. Darker blue eyes lock on the healer's lighter ones. There is nothing but absolute seriousness when he says, "The first time I killed someone I was fifteen. I beat him to death with a rock." Fact. Fact. He lays them out. Then, fact: "It was an accident." Can someone accidentally beat another person to death with a rock? Those words, that fact, seems to take a few long moments to sink in properly, like Oliwer's mind has a hard time processing things like that. And maybe it does! "How?" The word comes like out like there should be more attached to it. How could he do that? How could it be an accident? How could a fifteen turn old kill someone? All probably valid, but all he can manage is that one word as he searches G'laer's face. "You graduate from training in the guard at sixteen and then go on to preliminary postings to give you field experience for a few turns. Before you graduate from training, there are a series of assessment exercises in which you're assessed on an individual basis." This doesn't likely sound like an answer to the question, but he's getting there. "My group was on a wilderness survival field exercise. It wasn't going well for some of them. It was for me. Three of my bunkmates cornered me, thought to teach me a lesson. I fought back." G'laer closes his eyes briefly before focusing on Oliwer again. "Training kicked in. Then I was holding a bloody rock and he-- the one that fought me in the end-- was dead." He could stop there. Probably should stop there, but in for an eight-mark in for the whole. "We covered it up. The three of us that were still there. Threw his body in the river and drug it out downstream. Let the river take the blame. We'd've all gotten the mines for sure. Self-defense isn't an argument anyone wants to hear when you're a trainee guard. Easier just to throw you down the mineshaft and forget you were ever born." Oliwer listens in silence. It's difficult to tell if that's because he wants to hear the story or because he just can't bring himself to do anything else. It's not until G'laer finishes that the healer moves at all. And it's probably not very heartening that it consists of him sitting up and shifting away, toward the edge of the bed, where he leans over to rest his elbows against his knees, hands steepled against his mouth. But he doesn't say anything. "That time I had a good reason." He doesn't just think so, he knows so. "I didn't want to get raped." Understandably. G'laer shifts, moving to slide off the bed. "Other times, the reasons weren't as good. Maybe sometimes not even good." He stands. "I'm not in a line of work anymore where I wake up thinking I'll kill someone that day. But it's not a thing you can just stop doing if you're put in a situation where it seems the best option. Not even if you want to. Not even if you'll lose the most important person in your world just because it's a part of you." He looks at Oliwer a long moment, even if he's not looking back. "What do you need right now? Space? Time? A lift down to the bowl?" It's now that a certain nosy green sticks her head into the inner weyr and croons with concern. That one word, G'laer's reason, makes Oliwer glance over at the greenrider. But it's just for a moment. Then the healer is looking forward again, only looking at the other man briefly when he stands. "I don't know," he says as Teisyth's presence becomes more obvious and he can't help noticing. "I don't. I wish I did. But it's not that simple, is it?" When he returns his gray-blue eyes to G'laer, there are the beginning of tears in them. "I can't help but think you'd be happier with someone that... understood. Someone that didn't care. Would she be okay if you killed someone again?" He asks the last with a nod toward the dragon. The rider's eyes flick to his dragon and then back to his lover. "No. Nothing is. Especially not this." The answer is no harder than the topic. G'laer takes a half-step toward Oliwer and then forces himself to stop. He frowns, Teisyth croons, this time a more encouraging pitch. "I want to comfort you, but I don't know how. What you would accept from me, or if it would do any good." His standing there is suddenly a little awkward because he doesn't know what to do. So he looks to the dragon, "She would rather I never have to again, but she would choose me over anyone else if push came to shove." A rumble. But it's not to confirm or support, it's an annoyed insistent sound. G'laer frowns and shakes his head. She rumbles again, the same way, but more drawn out. The frown deepens and he shakes his head. "I'd pick you over anyone else, too," admits Oliwer with a frown that probably doesn't have as much to do with the sentiment as it does to do with the fact that it's kind of an approval of hurting someone else. But, hey! He and Teisyth have something in common! The dragon's rumbling draws Oliwer's gaze. He's not afraid of the green, but rumbling dragons are still a little unnerving to someone more used to little fat firelizards. And unfortunately he's definitely sober enough, more than he had been when G'laer came back to the weyr, to notice there's something he's not privy to. "What? Is there more? I don't know if I can hear about anymore ways you've killed people today." "What?" That last is what distracts G'laer from the on-going series of rumbles and headshakes (there were more while Oliwer was talking). "No." That's quick after the what. "I don't need to tell you about any of the others. This isn't something I ever talk about, to anyone. You just-- I'm sorry, Oli, but I couldn't let you think I'm not me." The me that includes killing when he was fifteen. Rumble goes the green. Glare goes the G'laer. Then sigh. "She wants me to ask you if you want to talk. To her, not me. Through me, I guess, but her." Probably because he and Teisyth have something in common. There's a pleased croon once she's won the battle of wills; thanks for the assist, Oliwer! He said today at least, which suggests he hasn't entirely ruled out that there might still be more tomorrows with the greenrider. Oliwer studies the green, glancing from her to G'laer once or twice. The idea of talking to a dragon is apparently a strange one. Not unwelcome, just strange. Especially when the person you'd be talking about is a necessary middleman. "Does she want to talk to me?" That's the first question he asks. But then another comes. "Am I being completely unreasonable? I feel like it's my fault that it bothers me. My father always told me I was too damned naive for my own good. Maybe he was right." "Yes. But, more," G'laer starts and then has to stop, "She's a lot like you, really. In some ways anyway. She feels like you should have someone to talk to that understands. She thinks that's her." Then G'laer shakes his head. "No, Oli, you are not being even a little unreasonable. You're a good man. And I am asking something extraordinary of you. I'm asking you to know me and all my faults and love me anyway. No one could blame you if you can't, but I won't lie to you about who I am . This means too much to me." Then slower, "You mean too much to me." Oliwer listens because there's not much else he can do. The last makes him rise with a deep breath that comes out in a slow sigh as he picks up his glass and moves like he might pour himself another drink. "This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen, was it." It's not a question. "You were my patient. How did we get here?" These comments seem to be rhetorical. But the question he asks Teisyth isn't. "Do you remember why you picked him?" G'laer could answer the not-question. But that would get him farther from what he wants, not closer. So he leaves it. Instead he moves to get himself a glass. Maybe they can both get really drunk, forget this ever happened, and start over in the morning. Would G'laer lie to Oliwer if Oliwer confessed to poor memory in the morning? He does answer the rhetorical questions. "We got here because I took an unprofessional interest in you. I started caring for you. I'm not about to stop caring for you, but I can do it at a distance so great you won't need to know I'm alive, if that's what you would prefer. I've done it before." It's after he's poured a drink for himself (after one for Oli if the healer hasn't beaten him to it). "She starts with a joke about the slim pickings, because she thinks humor helps everything." That G'laer even relates this means that he's relating it truthfully and not censoring out the bits he disagrees with. "She doesn't remember why she picked me at the beginning; she has a very poor memory for a dragon. In those first moments, she told me," from his memory, "she was here to help me. She wants to know why you picked me. She suspects the reasons are probably similar." After he swallows down his drink, dark eyes find the healer. "I'm sorry, Oli. Sorry I caught you up in-- this." His gesture encompasses himself. "If I hadn't started to feel things for you..." Damnit, he needs another drink and his glass is empty. Has Oliwer ever gotten so drunk he couldn't remember what happened? He doesn't really seem like the sort, but he was young once. Maybe he hasn't always been so mild. Unlikely, but maybe! He doesn't protest the drink poured for him, anyway, so that's a start. "No." That's all he needs to say, firmly, about this distance nonsense. "I confess my interest probably wasn't-- isn't as innocent as hers. And it doesn't really feel as though I picked you as much as you came to me. Found me." He takes a drink before continuing, "It always just kind of felt like we needed each other. Or that I needed you so much, I could imagine that you needed me, too. "I do." Two simple words that can mean so much. G'laer looks at Oliwer, but surely he must want to do more than just look. To occupy his hands that are being restrained from reaching, he reaches for the bottle instead. "I just came for herbs." This is softly. "I found what I need." These words come as he sets the bottle back on the table and his fingers close around the glass but do not lift. His eyes are back on his lover. That makes Oliwer smile whether he wants to or not. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Gal. The idea of not having you in my life anymore is painful in a way I don't know how to explain." Oliwer takes another drink before setting the glass down and moving closer to the greenrider, lifting his hands to cradle his jaw if allowed. "No matter who you've been or what you've done or what you might do, I feel safe when I'm with you. I trust you. Completely. And I don't want to lose you." OhthankFaranththetouchingboundaryisbroken. Oliwer has barely enough time to finish his words before G'laer is embracing him fiercely, desperately. "Move in with me." The man can't say the three little words, but these four tumble out as his cheek is pressed to the side of the healer's head, lips near his ear. He wraps his arms around his lover as he's embraced, relieved. It's not like Oliwer has been expecting G'laer to say those three little words. He might not even believe him if he did. But he wasn't expecting him to say these four, either. The healer pulls his head back to look at the greenrider's face, studying for seriousness (because he might stab G'laer himself if he's not being serious). But then he smiles. "I think I practically have already." It's true that G'laer jokes around with Oliwer more than he does with anyone else in the Weyr, except perhaps Laghnei, but here, now, he is not joking. He's only had one drink so he can't be drunk. Maybe he just likes his weyr better with three occupants rather than two. The greenrider smiles broadly before kissing the healer soundly. When the kiss breaks, he murmurs, "You know, it will be a good deal harder keeping things between us quiet if we do this," which since he popped the question, he's already considered, so he likely states this for the healer's benefit - in case it matters. Oliwer is slightly reluctant to let that kiss break, but at least he's still in G'laer's arms. "I think I'm okay with the whole Weyr knowing that you're mine." That decision isn't very hard. And maybe he doesn't care if his parents find out, either, since they don't seem to be a consideration to him right now. "Okay then." It's settled. It doesn't mean G'laer's going to shout it from his ledge that moment (possibly not in any future moment unless he's really trying to make a point or really messed up). "We can figure out details later," like who gets which drawers and which shelves G'laer has to clear off and which weapons Oli would rather were crated for safekeeping instead of on display, "Now, I'm taking you to our bed." And that's that. At least Teisyth's retreated to her couch and isn't obviously staring at them anymore, even if she is wiggling to the point of disturbing all the pillows. Even her Favorite Pillow isn't safe from all that excitement. |
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