Logs:Lost Before Loss
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| RL Date: 7 January, 2016 |
| Who: Ka'ge, Lys |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: During Solith's flight, foreign bronzerider, Ka'ge, is lost in the tunnels. Lys plays guide. |
| Where: Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 10, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Telavi/Mentions |
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| "Fuck." Ka'ge's voice is loud in the tunnel- the wrong tunnel. Probably not the first wrong tunnel, given the growl behind that sentiment. He's usually so good at ferreting out the passages and exits of places in minimal time, but he'd put the detailed memorization aside for the sake of time. He had someone he had to see. It was supposed to be brief. But now he paid for it with distracted attention cursing whatever he may have remembered. "Zymadiath." It's barely audible, that snarled mumble, his eyes clouded as he stops to press the side of a balled fist into the rocky wall. His hood is pushed back to reveal some locks of black, messy hair, his distracted expression obvious, unhidden. And then he turns after that pause for complaint to retrace his steps, clapping a young man on the shoulder that passes him too-close to 'help' guide him not-gently out of his way. Perhaps this time it would be towards the bowl- even if he really isn't exactly watching where he's going. "Problem?" Lys asks as she rounds a bend and stops; she must have been coming along behind him, a basket of laundry propped against her hip. Probably, if he'd been paying attention, he'd have heard her footsteps coming, but is now really a good time for paying attention? A single blonde brow arches in inquiry, though then she adds a, "Bronzerider," of general recognition to her initial question by way of some sort of actual greeting. Ka'ge most certainly missed her footsteps. His momentum doesn't stop, also missing her first word, and almost her second. He sees her only when he's walked into her, a blink sort-of clearing his gaze. Squinting, his face is less than immediately appealing in his lines of aggravation, but slowly eases... with effort. The young bronzerider's jaw sets, and he reverses a single step, taking a breath- and visually taking her in. Shortly the first time, and then again, longer. There's something absolutely predatory about the way he looks over her, but his hands remain balled in fists as second tick on. There's also effort in specifically remembering her- that annoying tickle of faint recognition, fainter given distraction- before he returns in a way that seems both caught in interest and rushed at the same time, "Weyrling." And then, "Greenrider. But... it's not yours that flies." That should be obvious, should it not? However, it's apparently necessary to state. Being walked into is not one of Lys' all time favorite things. She rocks a step back, quick but there's still the brush of body to body that puts a sour look on her face and loses a couple of shirts, too large for her, surely, and a man's cut, from her basket as it abruptly rocks with her. After a vaguely annoyed look at the bronzerider, she answers, "Solith. Telavi's lifemate. Evy's watching." Only a moment later there's a guarded but at least partly perplexed look and tilt of her chin down, "Is your--" no, she doesn't remember, "-is he chasing?" The eased expression becomes more so, a casual shrug relieving some if certainly not all of the tension that had grown in them since the flight began. Hands relax, his posture changing by degrees, especially as he stoops to help pick up a shirt if only for the added benefit that he might step close again. "Aye, he is. The bastard." Ka'ge's chuckle is deep, rumbling within his chest gently, his tone following in the intentional change, "I unfortunately don't know my way around your Weyr, brief as my visits have been." Is there a pleading edge there? A beg of assistance with the icing of arrogant charm? "You wouldn't mind showing me the way, would you?" Her way, his tone implies, as he holds the shirt up between them to give her. "To the guest weyr? Sure, I'll get you to the bowl." Lys answer with one of her faked smiles. "But you know you don't have to be there to lose, right?" She smirks, reaching to snatch the shirt from him before she crouches to collect the others lost, basket still neatly balanced against her hip. It doesn't take more than a moment and once she's risen, she leans toward the Fortian, as though she might be seeking to kiss him, only to whisper softly, "Turn around." The distanced look in his eyes returns as she leans into him, clearing only with a renewed need as Ka'ge tilts his head as if intending to return the favor that never comes. Her words meet a flickering of his grin, a faltering of it, as his frustration meets denial. "How about I follow you." It could be a purr, if his voice wasn't so rough. "I've seen enough of these walls." "Turn. Around." Lys tells him, though still as if she's telling him some sexy secret, her tongue even flicking across her lips. She'll even move her free hand to push fingertips lightly against his chest, as though that sort of light shove could move him. "The only ass you need to get a look at is Tela's, if Solith makes a bad mistake." Ka'ge has trouble, apparently, dragging his stare away from her. His grin lingers, pained, head tipped down as her fingers brush-shove his chest. Even as he turns,he tries to keep that sidelong blue-green gaze on her. Plaintive, maybe smoldering, but eventually forced forwards. He makes a face, as if dramatizing the doubt he has of her statement, "I have a feeling yours is pretty damn good." He may walk too-slowly when they get to that- would he ever get to where he wanted to be? "I'm told it can bring strong men to their knees and make women who only like strong men swoon," Lys replies dryly to the bronzerider, certainly being careful to stay enough behind him that he never gets a good look at the ass in question. "Focus on your dragon. That's what they taught us. Didn't they teach you anything? Or is it just that your head is so hard nothing penetrated?" It's a rhetorical question though. "Hard to believe such powerful words." Ka'ge says on the description of her ass, "without experiencing such a thing for oneself." He angles his head to one side as if he'd look at her but never quite manages. There's a sniff- faintly amused at her, but not at the subject- that comes at her reiteration of her lessons. "Hard to say." He remarks, mockingly playful with a sour taint to his tones, "I may have learned something, but," And he does turn now, so abrupt in his stop as to be easy to run into, going so far as to make a grab for her, to hold her if she doesn't evade quickly enough. "It happened to get lost in all the times he's made me run for the fucking weyr. Entertain me." It is at least more a request than a demand, though his voice, deep and boldly arrogant as it is, makes that a fine line to define. Lys isn't expecting his turn about and so with a disgruntled noise she does run into him, managing just barely to keep a grip on her basket. The blonde is quick, slippery even in how she uses her body to try to evade his grab, but ultimately doesn't clear the length of his arm in time to not be drawn in. She turns her face away from him as if she were repulsed and trying not to smell something unpleasant, complete with nose wrinkle. "Sorry, I didn't bring my complement of sock puppets with me today. Bound to be terribly dull. You're missing the flight, we should hurry." She tries to redirect the Fortian's attention even as she makes a testing lean against his arm to see if she couldn't just step back out of it if once he's distracted, if he becomes distracted. Ka'ge's embrace of her is kept despite the look, a heavy dark brow raised at her response. "I could find many things to do with those socks that have nothing to do with-" She's right on that he'd get distracted again. He'd managed for those minutes to stay relatively focused on her, but eventually his arms become not so firm, and he stares off beyond her. There's a cringe that wrinkles his expression, a darker look that ghosts over him. And when he looks back at her, it's not the same. Certainly with desire, but he wants Telavi, and with a heavy, tensed exhale, his arms fall away from her. "The weyr." Is agreement as he gestures for their continuance wherever she's leading them, voice curled with a feigned return of a grin. How's the saying go? Fool me once... Well, Lys doesn't intend to be the fool the second time, so as she insists with a gesture that he turn to go on ahead of her, the basket is shifted in front of her to provide a little buffer. She helpfully lets him know whether to go left or right when the tunnel forks and she keeps a brisk pace. Silence seems to have been determined as the safest option for all parties, so she keeps it beyond the directions. It isn't too long before they're arriving at the bowl and she makes gesture and quiet explanation of which ground weyr it is before she's moving toward her dragon with her basket. It's quiet, the rest of the walk that becomes more brisk as they finally reach the bowl. And although the young bronzerider's eyes are clearly still glazed when he turns back to Lys before increasing his stride, there's a tip of a couple of fingers in the mockery of a salute that ends in a wink. And then he's gone, a light jog to take him the rest of the way to the flight weyr, and then disappear within. |
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