Logs:Sharing Choices
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| RL Date: 13 December, 2015 |
| Who: Olivya, Ivraeth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Olivya and Ivraeth have a discussion not quite the morning after. |
| Where: A'sran's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 11, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'sran/Mentions, Daviola/Mentions |
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| Why didn't you warn me? isn't censur, but it is surprised. Olivya hadn't slept that evening, her normally sharp, clear thoughts clouded by whiskey and heat and satisfaction. She didn't particularly want to leave, either, not with the lean, young muscles stretched against her so deliciously. If they'd been in her weyr, she wouldn't. In her own territory, in more ways than one, she could have a delightful morning after, waking him slowly with her lips and tongue and--. « I didn't know until you kissed him. » There is a blame there, the shared memory of waking need. Were they there before, or did she cause the avalanche of feelings with what she thought would be an amusing diversion? And the mere memory of that need is enough to set it fluttering in the depths of her core again, amplified and echoed back in a loop of feedback from the lush, heated green curled up and watching her. The temptation to fulfill it with the young man in bed with her is almost too much to bare, pressing herself against him for a moment and breathing deeply in the dried sweat and him. « He won't object. He's much forgotten the other woman, now, » is a cocky assumption, the tilt of Ivraeth's head amused and arrogant, sharing the victory of her rider. No. We make the choice, the choice doesn't make us, ever. That sharp thought is enough to draw Olivya away from the enticing body, her lips only dragging briefly, lightly against the young man's shoulder before she eases herself out of the bed carefully so as not to wake him. We use it. We own it, she reminds her dragon, even as she quietly picks up her strewn clothes. There is a low rumble from the green, quiet, so quiet. She stretches slowly away from the bronze as well, sliding one whirling eye over him before she turns back to retreat to the ledge with the agreement, « I know, Liv. I do. But it wouldn't have hurt, this once--. Who would we even choose? » Ivraeth doesn't even need to ask. She knows. Olivya knows. But knowing isn't saying, and neither of them do, except-- « He might not chase. » Then we'll find someone else. This was a fun distraction, but it's not our choice, Ivraeth. Her soft, blue gaze settles on the bed for a moment as she drags on her clothes, and for a moment her fingers twitch in the desire to brush red-blonde hair into some semblance of order. She doesn't. Instead, she takes a piece of hide to leave a note, scribbling it in haste. She almost doesn't leave it, but then she presses lips to leave the hint of lipstick on it. Next time, the Blushing Boudoir? Maybe Daviola will join us. ~ Liv « I thought he wasn't our choice, » points out Ivraeth sardonically, her tone too sickly sweet to be pleased with her rider. And as Olivya strides to join her on the ledge, she only shakes her head. Don't. I still haven't seen his confession through, is the explanation she gives to the dragon, finally, so that Ivraeth will allow her to mount and take her away. |
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