Logs:Relationships Are Complicated
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 3 June, 2015 |
| Who: Nala, M'vyn, Jynth, Elsyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nala and M'vyn try to be a proper couple. Progress is made. |
| Where: Cosy For Keeps Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, C'stian/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, Grace/Mentions, Nalyn/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst. Sex. |
  |
| It is a rare night indeed that M'vyn is home without his children underfoot. They've been settled at the nurseries for the evening, Nalyn more excited than Grace by the prospect of being with other children and their favorite nannies. Elsyth is feigning sleep in her wallow, sulking at the children's absence and more than a little annoyed as to the why of their absence. M'vyn is filling the silence with music, his 'music room' has since been turned into a room for Grace and so he's perched on the couch with gitar in hand. He's practicing the cording for a new tune and pauses every now and then to make a notation on the music sheet spread out before him. Eventually, his voice travels outside of the weyr as he falls into song. The atmosphere, Elsyth's irritation aside, is peaceful within a weyr that so often used to be full of darkness. The time spent in the skies is filled with argument silent to the outside world. The landing on the ledge is filled with the same. Nala descending her straps and carefully stripping them from her blue contains more of a similar nature. Then there's the standoff, wherein she attempts to convince him to stay on the ledge, and he refuses, Elsyth's irritation not something to live with or suffer through, choosing to drift down into the darkness rather than return to their weyr without her. Nala looks out into the dark for a long while, statue still, her straps slung over one shoulder, a bag over the other, while the chill autumn breeze ruffles at what of her short, midnight-blue skirts peek out of her leather jacket. She gets as far as the entryway, where she can look in at Elsyth with a mixture of hurt and irritation of her own possessing her features, before she stops and only listens. Elsyth opens her eyes to return Nala's gaze for an unblinking moment before she shifts her wings in an almost human-type shrug. It is not her fault Jynth left. She turns her head away, resettling in the wallow away from the bluerider's stare. M'vyn finishes the song and pauses to make a few more notes before he sets the gitar down and rises. He does not smile at Nala as he moves forward to take the straps from her to hang on a peg that used to belong to her beside Elsyth's straps. "I have mostly snacks here. If you're hungry, we should go down to the caverns. I got distracted," he informs her as he turns back to her. He slides his arm around her middle and guides her forward, a move born of familiarity and a touch of a claim made. "Was your day well?" "You used to know better..." Nala accuses Elsyth, low-voiced, though she doesn't appear to care whether or not M'vyn overhears her muttered chastisement. She glances back towards the ledge for a handful of seconds, as if hoping Jynth will change his mind, but there's no scrabble of claws on the ledge, and thus she is alone. She likewise won't look at the green when she turns back, betrayal writ large in her expression before she smoothes it back to chilly apathy and surrenders her straps to M'vyn, bag abandoned at the foot of the couch. "No," she states, of the first, not the second. "The moping is enough at a distance. It is difficult to be in there now." As for her day, gives a shrug and lets the greenrider guide her. "We went to Weaver for some supplies." "I'm not overly fond of being there on any day, much less of late," M'vyn replies easily enough as he guides her towards the couch. He settles her down first and then turns to go and retrieve them each a glass of whiskey. He hands hers over as he slides beside her on the couch and stretches an arm loosely at the back of the couch and subsequently near Nala's shoulders. "The entire Weyr.. it's disturbing," he adds, sipping at the whiskey briefly before he tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He blinks a few times and gives a soft 'hmmm' at an inner thought. "What sort of supplies?" he queries, drawing himself back to the present conversation. "It is better not to think about it." And so Nala seems intent on not doing so, whiskey glass balanced in one hand as she shifts away from M'vyn's arm, not quickly enough for it to be immediately apparent that she's not simply moving away from him, and slips down, twisting as she goes, to lie across the couch with her head in his lap, glass propped against her ribcage. "Something for Lilah," she says without enthusiasm. "And for C'stian. When they are finished. If she does not want it, she can pitch it on the fire." She shrugs again, one shoulder flexing against his thigh. "Maybe I should say that hers is for Eliyaveith. Maybe it would still find the fire." Carefully, she tips the glass and takes a sip. Hesitation, then another mouthful of whiskey. "You could write something," she murmurs. "For the green. Her memory." M'vyn's fingers go towards Nala's hair to gently comb and toy with as he listens to her speak. "Are you fighting with her?" he queries, curious enough to ask where usually he wouldn't bother. "And for C'stian," he swallows what he might've said in conjunction with the bronzerider's name by taking a mouthful of whiskey. "I'm sure the gold would appreciate it. I only hope this time it comes to something for her. For the Weyr, I suppose, since the morale is so low." He tilts his head, looking down at her as he takes a moment to assess her suggestion. "I could," he agrees, "but coming from me... it may not be wanted." "Fighting would involve communication," Nala answers dryly. "She insists on accusing me of upsetting her by leaving. She has no concept of why I had to go, or that it was not solely to hurt her. I will not have the argument again." She tips her glass, still mindful not to spill her drink, even as she tilts her head into the fingers running through her hair. Closing her eyes, she falls silent for a while, until she elaborates about what turn out to be less than sentimental feelings. "...I mean more... as a means to an end. What would a Weyrharper do?" But even she can't be that utterly cold, and she adds, "Not that she shouldn't be remembered," more softly. "But it is... an opportunity." "She acts as if she had a claim on you," M'vyn states flatly, "and as far as I knew, you only keep a relationship with me and..," he pauses, taking a gulp of whiskey to fortify his voice so that it doesn't sound snide, "Aislara." He grows quiet when she gives her last, continuing to ply his fingers through her hair as he thinks. "Perhaps. I've been training Ebeny. I had thought that'd be a step. This.. if I approach it right, yes. I could see it winning the Weyrleader's approval enough to give me such a title." He shrugs and takes another gulp of whiskey. He glances at the nearly empty glass and then towards Nala's. "I'd get us more but I'm not in the mood to move." "We never shared a bed in that manner." Nala tips her chin up to let her drain the last of the whiskey in her glass, then she sets the glass down, balanced just south of her heart, supported by her ribs. "...I miss her," she quietly admits, though no sooner has she softened that much, than she becomes stone, "but I will not go backwards and be berated for what I had to do. If she never understands... then that is that." She's silent as she watches him work through that thought process, then she fumbles to blindly set her glass on the floor and sit back up in M'vyn's lap, all in one movement. "I was hoping you would do more than move before I leave in the morning..." the bluerider informs him, with the beginnings of what passes for humour, for her, her hands finding purchase at his shoulders. "She is too strong-willed and ill-tempered for her own good. Give her the gift and tell her to not speak of what happened before. Maybe then you can rebuild whatever it was you want back with her. Relationships..," he drifts his fingers down along her cheek and neck, "are complicated." He finishes his whiskey in time for Nala's movement and smirks at her as she leverages purchase against his shoulders. "I had thought we'd talk first," he drawls at her, his own hands moving to rest on her hips. "If you cannot wait..," he dangles that bit towards her, eyes bright against his features as he leans forward to kiss her. Only he doesn't. He hovers just out of reach of her lips with a wider smirk. "Getting that far... Therein lies the problem." Yet Nala speaks no more of that, choosing to sit more snugly against him as his hands find her hips. She's almost fooled, and she almost leans too far with nothing to show for it, yet she stops, lifting her hands from M'vyn's shoulders to cover his where they rest while she holds herself upright and looks down at him. "If you want to talk..." she murmurs, her lips just shy of his, "then talk." Her hands press down on his, keeping them firmly at her hips. "Do you have a list of subjects, or am I to provide one?" M'vyn's response is a throaty near-growl of sound as Nala's hands and returned tease of lips draws no other response than for him to reach his hands for her shirt to remove. He tugs her closer once she's free of its encumbrance and lets his lips find anywhere and everywhere to go that aren't hers. "No talking," he murmurs into her ear as he lightly lips the lobe, "let's see if you can stay quiet." And the rest of his kisses and traveling hands will do their utmost to draw any noise from her that he possibly can. At some point he flips her off of his lap and onto the couch for leverage, taking the opportunity to have the control for the moment though if she persists he may acquiesce to her more dominating tactics. Nala's grip on his hands tightens the moment that he tries to lift them away, but there are other places she'd rather have them, so her token resistance is just that. She gives no resistance to his stripping her of her shirt, her skirt slung low on her hips, but when he tells her to stay quiet... Actually, she does just that, silent for as long as she can possibly manage, to test his self-control just as much as hers, something smug in the curve of her lips when she's not having to bite down on the inside of her lip to keep quiet. Nails dig and, before she loses that battle, she leaves a bite mark at M'vyn's shoulder rather than cry out. She doesn't attempt to wrest control from him - at least not now - content to play this other game until it's run its course and they're both quiet again. Nala's evident silence leads M'vyn towards the challenge of plying her with pleasure. Her nails only encourage him further as he moves over her and finds his own way towards satisfaction. Her teeth are his undoing as her failure to cry out draws him to as he allows, "Nala," to pass through before he burrows his face against her shoulder and allows the shudders to pass. He doesn't linger long, not wanting to leave her uncomfortable with the couch her only support so he hefts himself up and off of the couch to make his way towards that distant whiskey and some water to bring back to her. Nala seems perfectly comfortable where she is, even with the weight of M'vyn on her and the couch not the best support ever, and even though his shifting allows her to breathe more easily, she still murmurs unintelligible protest, yet a string of quiet curses follow, like they have to be set free now that she can utter them. He's been gone a matter of seconds before she insists that he, "Come back." She does little to rearrange herself, ignoring practicality entirely, and in-fact slips down to take up as much room on the couch as she possibly can, like she'd guarantee he has to drape himself back over her again. M'vyn returns in his own time, her insistence in his returning leading him to dawdle with the tasks he set himself to do. He's got a water for her and then he's refilling the whiskeys all of which he sets on the table in front of the couch. He watches her with an idle smile, his face and body language loose and languid with the tensions released by their lovemaking. He perches on the arm of the couch and looks down at her, whiskey in hand to sip. "Are you comfortable?" he quips, lifting a brow. "Shall I fetch you a blanket?" The bluerider looks up at him, what irritation might have flared at his lack of haste and the chill settling over her gone as she just lifts her gaze to his and observes him where he sits, the water and whiskey not so pressing needs for the moment. Nala's expression softens the longer she watches him, and eventually she lifts a hand towards M'vyn, her half-echo more of a plea this time, murmured. "Come here." There's no obvious intent in her gaze, anything predatory or demanding gone in the rush of minutes ago. A moment passes, then she offers an alternative, "Or take me to bed." M'vyn considers Nala in turn, deciding which turn of action he should take as he polishes off the whiskey. She may not want the proffered drinks but tonight he clearly seems to be set to relax. He deposits his empty glass on the table. He stands once more, turning in a fluid movement to bend and heft her into arms made strong from his time dragonriding. He presses his lips against hers first, giving her the briefest of pecks before he heads towards that bed. He settles her down again, piling blankets nearby for her comfort before he stretches out alongside her. His fingers are drawn back to her skin, his touches more for the need to feel her than anything else. "I'm glad," he informs her, turning his dark gaze lightened by the smile that he allows forward towards her. "To have you in my bed." Nala smiles the tiniest bit as he lifts her, and though she does try to help by looping her arms about his neck, she also reaches somewhat precariously to snag her glass of whiskey with forefinger and thumb, latching onto its rim before she can support it properly. She sets it down safely as she's deposited on the bed, and it's less than a handful of seconds pass before she's reaching for those blankets to tangle around her legs and up around her middle, leaving her collarbone and lower free for fingers to wander across. Gently, she lifts a hand to run her fingers through his hair in an idle, soothing motion. "It was our bed," she murmurs with no particular slant, only for what it is, another of the simple, factual statements that have often defined her since her return. She takes a deep breath, then says, "...I ordered a dress for Grace. For Turn's End. And an outfit for Nalyn. To wear, not... presents. They don't have to, but... Well. You could give them to them anyway." M'vyn's fingers pause the slightest bit as she speaks about the outfits for the children. He shifts closer to her, seeking to wrap his arms around her for the briefest of hugs before he returns to his side and the small amount of space between them. "It's our bed again," he assures her, moving to press his palm against her cheek for a moment before he shifts onto his back to break eye contact with her. He stares at the ceiling for a time, resting his head on one arm as the other moves to link fingers with hers if she allows. "You could give them the outfits," he suggests with little inflection or force behind his tone. He's treading as carefully as he's able. "Or I can. They'll be dressed in them regardless. Grace loves frilly things. Nalyn may not keep them nice.. but we could teach him to try." She can't mean to get him tangled in the blankets too, but while she and the blankets are more or less the same, they get hooked around M'vyn for the time that her arms wind around him. Nala's only response is a faintly please, almost shy hum, the note one that fades almost as soon as it begins. That he grasps her hand means that she gives herself away when he makes his suggestion, her grip tightening through no conscious choice of her own. Silence. "...Nalyn knows." Who she is. Of course he does; he's old enough. "Grace does not. I've taken too long." Factual, again. "If she cannot bear me, you will have to do it." And so, in that backwards way, she agrees. "He is young, still. Clothes can be replaced." She doesn't sound heartbroken at the prospect of a nice outfit muddied or ruined, anyway. "She'll learn," M'vyn's answer is simple as he snuggles her against him and remains within the cocoon of the blankets. "Nalyn will help. He loves teaching her things." He doesn't press into further stories of them, not wanting to lead Nala towards any further anxiety or fear with the subject at hand. "Let's spend it together," he murmurs against her hair, yawning faintly as he leaves one arm loosely wrapped around her. "We can talk about it after a nap," he murmurs, kissing her cheek lightly before he settles down completely, "when we finally eat." He falls silent then, content to remain cuddled against her and does not seek to speak further until the time comes to waken. |
Leave A Comment