Logs:Mistaken Identity and Other Bad Decisions
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 22 August, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Mikaelen, Tahvra, Tayte, Yvalia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte has a guest. H'vier makes terribly wrong assumptions. A trip to the infirmary is needed. |
| Where: Tayte's Room and elsewhere, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 9, Month 8, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Miska/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. Mikaelen by Tayte. |
     |
| With Tahvra in his arms, H'vier knocks on Tayte's door so he can drop their daughter back off with her mother after spending the afternoon with him. It's not quite late enough for her to be asleep but the girl is no doubt starting to get tired. Maybe even a little cranky. Obviously that's the perfect time to hand her back off again. H'vier's clearly up for Father of the Turn. Although he might have competition in the form of the salt and pepper bearded man that opens the door with his mop of brown hair and kind blue eyes. There's a ghost of a smile in the fine lines at the edges of his eyes and just barely discernable under the beard. He's older than H'vier, certainly, though his exact age would be difficult to pinpoint as he's like a fine wine, better with age. Obviously he doesn't recognize the man, but the little girl gets a proper smile. "Hello Tavi." Tahvra, for her part, doesn't seem to recognize the man, or at least, not well enough to respond by doing more than abruptly quieting and shyly pressing her face into H'vier's shoulder. A man answering the door is definitely not something that H'vier was prepared to deal with just now. It's probably better for the man that Tahvra doesn't seem happy or thrilled or otherwise familiar with seeing him because the bronzerider is almost immediately on edge with the other male presence. "Who the fuck are you?" No pleasant hellos from Havi. The man's dark brows rise at that sort of greeting. "Mikaelen. And you are?" Not that Tayte's ever called her fosterfather by name to H'vier; why would she? His tone is quite serious, and not terribly approving, but then has the bronzerider given him any reason to be so far? The look H'vier gives the older man might suggest it's probably a good thing he's still holding his daughter. She's a fantastic buffer against violence, if not rational thinking. "I'm Tahvra's father." And he doesn't seem terribly concerned about having Mikaelen's approval. "Where's Tayte?" The brows already raised find a way to get a little higher. "You're Tavi's father?" Tavi who's burrowed deeper against the bronzerider's shoulder. It's a moment of looking between man and girl before the man answers. "She'll be back shortly," which isn't an answer. Thankfully, with one more glance toward Tahvra, Mikaelen opts to ask, "Would you care to come in and wait for her?" The door is pulled wider and the man in his simple but elegant violet and black breeches, tunic and doublet is stepping aside for them to enter. The first question doesn't earn an answer from H'vier. And he only gives the man an unapproving look of his own as he moves past with Tahvra tucked against him in response to the second. Once he's inside, though, he says quite seriously, "I think it's time for you to go." Mikaelen, turning after closing the door behind the pair, has brows drawn down in decided disapproval. "No. I don't think so." He disagrees firmly, if politely, with the bigger man. "I'm quite certain Tayte would like me here. I'm less certain of you, but as you're Tahvra's father," his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, because he can't be sure. "I'm sure you know your business here better than I, if not mine." "Well, you aren't welcome by me," says H'vier, sounding a little more firm about his thoughts as far as this unfamiliar man being in his ex-almost-weyrmate's quarters go. And that totally matters. "I thought Tayte was clear about not wanting you here. I may have let her go, but I'm not going to let some other man take advantage of her." "I beg your pardon." Mikaelen's tone is one of surprise tinged with indignation. "Aren't you the one who broke her heart?" He demands, arms folding sternly over his chest, frowning deeply. Tahvra recognizes tone of voice more than the words spoken and between the two men's voices, she's starting to sniffle. "I spared her heart," H'vier practically growls back at Mikaelen, looking more than a little unhappy about the accusation. "But I'm not the one that knocked her up when she was vulnerable and then came back to fuck with her some more!" Except that he's, you know, here. But that's because of Tahvra, not messing with Tayte. Mikaelen's brows go up at that first and then still further by the second. His response is a moment in coming though because he's the sort of man to think before he speaks. And as Tavi gave a pathetic sort of whimper when H'vier practically growled, the Bitran man takes time to calm his voice so that it's rather soft when he speaks again. "As it happens, I am not either." His arms remain folded across his chest. This is, of course, Tayte's cue to push the door open and immediately drop the ceramic mugs she's carrying in her surprise, one shattering and the other cracking as they kiss the stone in front of the door. Her jaw is slack and her eyes are widened, a blush rushing into her cheeks. It's not very supportive of her father's words from the outside and she's too immediately busy with the scalding liquid that's splashed onto her skirt to clear up the confusion. "Shit," is the most motherly thing she can come up with, not that Tahvra doesn't already repeat worse from her father. The older man's more thoughtful nature probably helps H'vier not lose his temper as quickly as he's been known to do in the past. But what Mikaelen finally says makes the bronzerider's brows knit together with something like confusion. And then Tayte is coming in and dropping things. He glares at the other man for a moment, jaw tight, then he hands off Tahvra to Mikaelen so he can go help the pregnant woman with her mess. "You could've told me you were having someone over." Then maybe he could have punched him before she got back. Mikaelen is arrested in his half movement toward his daughter to take his granddaughter from her foul-tempered father. This, it seems, is the more critical task. He tactfully whisks the little girl away to her sleeping area lest he learn more he might not want to know. Tayte's cheeks are flushed and hot, and in point of fact the rush of blood combined with the abrupt instinctive crouching to start picking up the mess has her light headed and suddenly sitting amidst the shards with a low, "Fuck," that probably has nothing to do with H'vier's words to her. "I wasn't planning on introducing you." She answers through gritted teeth. "It's not your business." When she has guests. Although perhaps the argument could be made that Tavi's grandfather is his business by extension. "You didn't think I'd bring back our daughter?" asks H'vier like maybe she should have thought about that beforehand if she didn't want him bumping into the other men in her life. "Who the fuck is this guy, anyway? I thought you got rid of the asshole that knocked--" He pauses there because going down that path makes him angry in ways he's not comfortable being around Tayte right now. "Strange men around my daughter are my business." Never mind that he handed the girl off to the strange man already. "Come here, get up." H'vier leans with the intention of simply picking the blonde up so she can be deposited somewhere else away from the mess. "I wasn't going to invite you in." Tayte grouses as he's reaching for her. From one standpoint, she should resist his arms. On the other hand, she's four months pregnant and has just if not fallen, sat down hard unexpectedly. Already she must be thinking of heading for the infirmary for a 'just in case' check. So into his arms she goes, huffing in frustration as she disdainfully puts her arms around his neck. "He isn't a stranger. I dare say he knows me better than even you." She purses her lips defiantly. She mightn't be planning on saying anything at all about the man's identity except that that's when Yvalia pokes her head in the still open door, words arrested on her lips when she sees her mother in H'vier's arms. Her eyes go wide and she steps in silently, not even noticing the mess at her feet. "Mom, what's wrong? Are you okay? Where's Grampa?" The questions jump on top of one another as they tumble out the girl in obvious and immediate distress for the looks of things. Only then does Tayte cast an almost guilty glance up at H'vier, "I'm fine. I just -- sat down funny." Lower, to the bronzerider, "I think there's a piece of that mug in my leg." Probably not a big piece. "Grampa's with Tavi in your room. Your Uncle H'vier," she looks to the big man but is still speaking to her older daughter, "is going to carry me to the infirmary so the healers can make sure everything is okay. Tell Grampa I'll be back soon, alright?" Surely if Yvalia hadn't revealed the man's identity, H'vier would have forced the information out of them somehow. Like by being his usual, obnoxious self. "Grandpa?" is what he'll focus on, looking between the girl and her mother and not looking especially pleased with the latter. "That's your father?" He's still trying to catch up once his more protective, fatherly brain takes over, "Careful of the shards, sweetheart. Your momma's gonna be just fine, I promise." H'vier casts one, brief look in Mikaelen's direction before he's walking over the mess and into the hallway with Tayte in his arms without further comment to the woman. Tayte doesn't speak again, though she gives Yvalia a tight but reassuring smile, not looking in her father's direction. She doesn't speak until after Miska has examined her, on by happy coincidence. Their voices are kept hushed all the while they're behind the curtain and little can be overheard. When Tayte's dressed again and gingerly stepping out of the alcove, favoring her injured leg, she has a grimace for relating, "Three stitches." Surely H'vier's stabbing had more than that, but still, a shard in the back of her thigh can't have been pleasant. "And I'm to spend more time off my feet. "But the baby seems fine." And that, surely, must be a relief, to her, at least. Then she's silent a moment before steeling herself to look up at the bronzerider. "Would you please carry me back?" It's a long walk. H'vier would probably rather not have waited, but he can't just leave Tayte in the infirmary by herself until he's sure that everything's okay. Even if he probably likes to tell himself that he doesn't care about the baby that isn't his. So of course he's there waiting for her when she's done. He nods about her injuries, though it's her stomach his eyes go to, neutral, when she says that it's fine. The last request draws his eyes back up. The bronzerider hesitates, jaw tense, before nodding again. Then he's leaning down to pick her up carefully again, making sure she's as comfortable as she's going to get before he starts making the trek back. "I could have hurt him," he finally says. "I don't go around fucking everything that moves," this is snapped out faster than Tayte comes to regret it, which she does a moment later, burying her face against his chest. The implication is certainly that H'vier has that proclivity. "I'm sorry," it's muffled but sincere. "That wasn't fair. It's just that..." She draws a deep breath, though it's hard to see if it's covering tears with the way she's nestled her cheek to his chest now, "I was going to introduce you. Back when we were going to be weyrmates. And I'd gotten so nervous about it back then that it became a big deal in my head, because my parents-- they're holders, but I love them, and they didn't know about Yvalia for turns, and they love the girls and they love me, but, my choices..." Well, how can a holder really approve of those? "But getting weyrmated is almost like getting handfasted, and they would've been happy for that, for me. And now..." Now none of that is happening. "Now I'm pregnant again and still unmarried. And-- nevermind, that's not the point. The point is, I didn't intend for the two of you to meet. I was going to come to the door and take Tavi, like I usually do," at least since he found out she's pregnant, "and you were going to leave like you usually do, and you were never going to know my father was even visiting." She sighs heavily. Clearly, this didn't go according to plan. His step falters slightly. Not enough to suggest he might trip, just enough to suggest he takes exception to that comment. Not that he should. It's certainly been true. But H'vier doesn't comment and Tayte goes on, listening as he walks, trying not to jar her injury. After she's sighing, he first points out like it's important somehow, "I haven't been with anyone." Then, "You shouldn't live your life based on how someone else thinks you should live it. If you don't want me to meet your father," you know, properly, "I'm not going to argue." The first words have her startled and then confused, and looking right up at him because... well, she can't help it. Tayte swallows, probably unsure whether or not to believe him but knowing that asking questions can't lead to answers that don't hurt. "I'm not, I just don't like fighting with them. I want everyone to be happy." She is a people pleaser after all. "I do-- I did want you to meet him. Just-- not when we are-- and I'm--" There aren't good words for this so she just gives up, face back against his chest and breathing in slow deep breaths. The arms around his neck tighten just a smidge. It can't be a hug, can it? And yet... "The only people you need to worry about being happy are yourself and your children. Nobody else matters. Not even me when we were together. Not anyone you might be with in the future." As much as he hates to think about that, he's coming to terms with its inevitability. He pauses when her arms tighten around his neck and something shifts in the way he holds her, like he's not-hugging her back. "I just want you to be happy and safe, Tayte." Tayte is quiet; already it hurts. She shies away from his chest now. Not so much as to be dangerous or difficult but enough to be a profound difference from how she was moments before. It's abrupt when she asks, "Havi, will you sleep with me? Not-- all the time but when I-" her cheeks are touched with a blush and she doesn't finish. Hopefully he understands. H'vier doesn't seem to mind when she shifts. He continues walking, but when she asks that question, it probably seems like a bad idea to have started again. He doesn't trip, at least, but his arms tighten under where he holds her up. "Tayte. Is that... a good idea?" No, of course not. It's a horrible idea. But it's not exactly one he wants to refuse, that much is obvious. "Better than my finding any old person. You're already familiar with... the mechanics. And you'll be gentle," not that he's always been so, but... Tayte tries to sound logical. "And anyway, I'd rather risk a little heartache than potential injury to myself or the baby with an untried partner. I promise I won't ask too frequently. But... It's good for me. Nothing vigorous or too physically exerting." Maybe no one told her this in so many words. "We can do it when the girls are sure to be away. We don't even have to talk if you don't want to." The woman makes a strong case. Especially for a man that doesn't need a very strong case to be interested in sleeping with her. H'vier still looks like he has to think about it, though, which probably says a lot for how torn he is. Though possibly not for the reasons she might think. And probably a little for those reasons, too. "Well, I can't say I'm not willing to try. Although I will say it would have been less cruel to ask when we could do it." His voice is more teasing than upset, fortunately! "I suppose it would be Very Wrong of us to not go directly back." Tayte answers his tease much more seriously, pursing her lips. "Although, my father has had at least a dozen fosters," so many that she can't keep track, certainly, "So it's not like they're in bad hands..." She shifts a little closer again, "I suppose we might have to go back to the infirmary if any of the stitches were to snap... But we're not suppose to be doing anything more than gently anyway..." Logic. Nope, H'vier pauses again. Walking and thinking and talking are becoming too difficult to do all at once with the woman in his arms asking for things that he very much wants to do with her. "I can be gentle," is his answer. Which only leaves getting somewhere so he can prove it to her. Tayte and H'vier: making bad decisions sound good since turn 27. |
Leave A Comment