Logs:Should Have
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| RL Date: 17 July, 2011 |
| Who: Teris, W'chek |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Teris wants Bety's things. |
| Where: W'chek and B'tal's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 3, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: B'tal/Mentions |
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| his weyr has always been considerably tidier than W'chek's old place, but none of that was his doing. Now, left alone for a little while, entropy has crept in. In the front, there's some dirty clothing strewn over the sofa, along with a blanket and a pillow. The bed looks like it hasn't been touched since the morning B'tal left, still even a dent in the pillow there, but the drawers of the bureau are open, and there's a box sitting beside it with a few items in it. The sorting process really doesn't seem to have gotten particularly far. W'chek, of course, has gone off to get something to eat and doesn't return for some time, and certainly does not expect anything to have changed since he left the place. Iskiveth is perched on Zhikath's ledge. It's kind of hard to miss her. She must be keeping watch, though, at the moment, her head is inside of Jeibeth's wallow, probably wondering why /she/ doesn't any pillows at all. Teris is inside of the weyr that her brother shared with W'chek and Iskiveth probably wouldn't need to be there for that to be obvious. There was a bottle of something in here but now it's shattered in the path that leads from the outer to inner weyr. Inside the goldrider has pulled drawers out as far as they can go or out completely in some instances. There's a pair of trunks in what might be considered the middle of the weyr and so far there are several journals and other various things inside of them. Clothes, trinkets, both finished and unfinished music boxes, etc. Evidently she means to take them all. "Teris?" The name is called as soon as W'chek dismounts, but once he sees the broken glass and all his precious liquor puddling there, his pace picks up to a jog in to see what she's doing. Since that moment, it really can't be said that Whit's face has betrayed much to anybody else, but at this point, the look on it is completely unalloyed horror. "Oh, no. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Get the *fuck* out of here. Get the fuck *out* *of* *here*. You can't do this. Those aren't yours." He stops, reaches into a trunk to extract one of the journals, eyes it with face gone completely pale. "What are you *doing*? These are *private*." And so he starts pulling stuff back out again. While some of it just goes on the floor, the journals and such he's not willing to even let back out of his hands again. Oh, right! She was supposed to be keeping watch. She turns and hisses menacingly at Zhikath when he lands but with W'chek walking right by her, she falls into a slightly stunned silence. People are supposed to be afraid of her! Once the bronzerider is clear, however, the gold lunges at Zhikath to chase him off of the ledge. So there. Inside, Teris doesn't even seem to notice W'chek at first. It's not until he starts pulling stuff back out of the trunks that she's there, looking a little, well, crazy. "Don't you dare take anything out of there! They're /his/ things. Not yours. You don't deserve to keep any of it!" She might not really be paying a whole lot of attention to what she's saying but she does reach to try taking the journals back from the bronzerider. Being chased off his own ledge is *not* something Zhikath was really expecting, here, and he hisses as he takes flight again, retreats to an empty ledge nearby. « Go sit on your own ledge! » W'chek is paying absolutely no attention to that drama. "He was my weyrmate! It was all our stuff. And how do you even know whose any of these things are! These could be my journals!" In other words, dear-Faranth-please-let-her-not-have-looked-in-anything. He takes a few unbalanced steps backward, still clutching them tight. "You can't do this. You don't live here. This stuff doesn't belong to you. You're just his sister. If anybody else inherits, it's Lily. Not you, you thieving cunt. Put all that back. They aren't yours!" When Zhikath leaves, Iskiveth doesn't respond, she just sits on the ledge and makes sure that he doesn't come back. "Leave Lily out of this. They /aren't/ yours, you disgusting fucking pervert. And what the fuck is that shit?" She says, pointing toward a pile of things on the floor at the foot of the bed. She follows the point back toward it, picking up the pair of cuffs that B'tal had had made so long ago. "Is this the shit you used to hurt him?" It's not quite a shriek but it's getting close enough that it probably could be soon. If W'chek could get any paler--actually, he starts moving more into the green part of the spectrum at that. "You leave all that stuff alone. That was *ours*. Our business. It's not your business at all." He's not letting go of those journals, though. They seem to have more value than the things on the floor, however more intimate the use of some of those things. "Faranth, Teris. Can't you leave well enough alone? If you want to know, the last person wearing those was *me*, all right?" He finally leaves the journals well out of her reach and then goes over there to try to grab the offending things out of her hands. "Yes. It's disgusting. But we didn't hurt anybody. It was *private*." When W'chek comes closer, Teris lashes out at him with the cuffs to keep him away from her. But she doesn't seem happy with just that. After the first, she moves lunges at him and tries hitting him with the leather and metal several more times. "B'tal /is/ my business. It's /all/ my business," she screams at him. "It should have been you." Her words are more than sad. It's probably en emotion that W'chek can actually relate to right now. "It /should/ have been /you,/" she repeats even more viciously, trying to hit him once more, harder yet. "Do you think I don't know that?" W'chek is certainly capable of screaming, himself, although he seems shocked by the volume afterwards, as he tries to duck away from the blows, then tries actually grabbing them from her again without much luck. "Do you think I don't know that?" Louder, if that's possible. "Fine. It's all your business? Great. Do you want to hear about how he used to get down on his knees right there and beg me for it? How I'd let him pick somebody else up when we took trips away, so that I could be sure he wasn't going to get bored with me? Do you want to know what we did for his last turnday and how happy he was with that?" At which point he grabs something out of a trunk--the shell of an unfinished music box?--and chucks it at Teris with more force than a mere warning shot would warrant. "And now I'm twenty-fucking-five and I'm going to spend the rest of my fucking life without him. I swear on my mother's grave, you are not leaving here with any of this, do you hear me?" This would be a perfect and poignant moment for the tears to come, but his eyes are resolutely dry. Screaming is all well and good. Teris doesn't seem particularly ruffled by that. In fact, it seems to feed whatever fire is fueling her. She can even almost deal with the bronzerider's baiting words, only trying to interrupt him with a 'shut up' three or four times. It's being hit by the small box that he throws that /shocks/ her into stillness, shocks her into actually looking at him and makes Iskiveth growl a warning outside. There are tears on her pale, splotchy face but her expression seems torn between wanting to break down again and wanting to find something she can actually draw W'chek's blood with. "I don't care how you spend the rest of your life. And I don't care about your fucking mother. I am /not/ leaving here empty-handed." Breathing heavily now, W'chek stays where he is, only moving to pick up something else to throw if it becomes necessary. "No. You don't care. I know you don't care. He cared. He was the only one who ever did." Which is probably not strictly true--but at least possibly the one who cared and understood, anyway. "What good is any of this, to you? It's not from *your* life. These aren't your memories. This was our life. His and mine. *Ours*. The fuck do you think you're going to do with a bunch of pictures he drew of me naked?" Okay, granted, he's not the only one, but the argument falls apart a bit once it's porn of people she might not mind seeing naked. "He gave you things. I know he did. Why can't you just be content with what you have?" The goldrider drops her gaze for a handful of moments, probably trying to somehow pull herself back together. It doesn't work very well. "He was all I ever had. And you... /You/ took him away from me. You turned him against me. And now I have, what, a few trinkets?" Her eyes are narrowed, trying desperately not to let herself break down into sobbing, when she looks at him again. "I don't /want/ the pictures of you. I want the decent pictures. I want the words. I want--" A sob slips out before she can stop it and then she seems to have a much harder time holding the rest of them at bay and keeping the tears from falling down her cheeks. "I just want him back." W'chek is probably the last person in the whole universe that she'd want to see her lose it if she were more rational, more herself. But she's not. "He was never against you! He saw you more often than I went to see my family, and everybody thought the amount of time I spent with *my* family bordered on the insane. He just didn't *dump* me. The fact that he wouldn't leave me doesn't mean he was against you. He loved me, too." W'chek at least doesn't throw anything else at her, but he does stare at her growing upset with eyes that don't totally comprehend. Or, maybe, that are just baffled for why it's only her, why he's still standing there perfectly in control. Repression for the win. "He's not coming back. He's never coming back." His voice is almost flat, suddenly. Teris is shaking her head as W'chek talks but at least she doesn't tell him to shut up now. She backs up several steps but then her legs seem to fail her when he says those last words and she crumbles to the floor with her arms wrapped around herself protectively. "Don't say that," she finally murmurs in the breaths she can manage. "Please. I know. I know, just-- Don't say it." Her sobs are trying to be silent but they still shake her body. As she crumbles, W'chek calmly walks over closer to her, and then sits himself down on the floor. "I would offer you a drink, but you appear to have somewhat damaged my last bottle." He puts his own arms around his knees, stares off into space a bit. "No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't say it. It's too--" He shakes his head, closes his eyes, rests his forehead against his knees. "Madilla will need more help with Lily, now. It would be nice if you could help her. I know you don't seem like much for kids, but it would mean a lot." She doesn't look up when W'chek comes closer but she does lift a hand to try wiping at her eyes. Her tears aren't falling quite as freely as they have in the last few days if only because she's had a hard time not crying at every opportunity she's had alone. "Probably had enough as it is," she murmurs. At least until she gets back to her weyr. Teris tilts her gaze away and reaches for a scarf she'd thrown out of a drawer. She pulls it close and holds it against her chest, rubbing the wool absently between her fingers. "I don't mind them so much," she admits, voice flat and tired. "I would help Madilla even without you asking me to." She glances up briefly, then, "How can you act so calm about everything?" For just a second, it seems like W'chek really might try to snatch the scarf away from her--but in the end, he doesn't. He sits up enough to reach for one of those journals and start flipping through it's pages--although for modesty's sake, it's tucked in such a way that she won't be able to see it. "I don't know. I wish I knew. I've lost so much. He left me once and I was a total mess the whole time he was gone. I lost the family I was born into because of this sickness in me. I lost the family I was going to have. I don't have any friends. And now I look at all this and it's like that thing is just missing, now. It doesn't do anything, anymore." His eyes on the page, presumably it must be racy, but the gaze is almost baffled. "I was so happy. Being sick shouldn't make you happy, should it? I don't know. Lost so much. So I just... get up and keep moving." Teris looks at the journal but doesn't try to actually see what W'chek is looking at. The fight has been drained out of her and now she's just left exhausted. Empty. So she watches. And listens. "There's nothing wrong with men fucking men. Or women fucking women. I never hated you because of that," she murmurs. There's no venom in her voice now, just honesty. "No reason that you shouldn't have been happy." For once she doesn't try to point out what she has and hasn't had, what she's lost or why B'tal is somehow more important to her than to anyone else. At least until, "I don't know how you do it. Lose so much. He's the only thing I've ever had to lose and I can't bear it." "This isn't the way it's supposed to be. When you love, there's supposed to be a family, afterwards. And then when you lose someone, you've got all these other people who are there to help. Then you have children you need to raise. Grandchildren. Not just... memories of what sex was like." He says that like a ninety-year-old trying to dredge up memories of thirty years before, not like a man of twenty-five who probably got laid the morning B'tal left. "But I got more than I deserved. Given what I've been. What I've done. The memories of that are enough. They'll have to be." And if W'chek says that a few thouasnd more times, maybe at that point it'll come out like he really believes it to be true. "You'd think after all this time, you'd have forgotten some of your holdbred ways." There's almost no inflection in the way that Teris says those words. No amusement, no sarcasm, nothing. "You did get more than you deserved. I don't think anyone would disagree with that." No one still among them, at any rate. "Just... don't forget about him." She frowns as though that's not really what she'd wanted to say but can't think of anyway better to say it. "I should go," she murmurs, though she doesn't move, clutching the scarf even tighter in her hand. Only that admonition seems to hit something a little deeper, but even there, no dampness, just a moment with eyes closed and shallower breathing. Then W'chek composes himself, pulls himself to his feet again. "Not as long as I live," he finally says, simply. Then, "Take the scarf. I'll go through the notebooks and see if I can clip some of the pages that're more... appropriate. And anything he wrote about you. And that way you won't have to look at, uh, the rest of it." He doesn't really sound like he's looking forward to looking at the rest of it himself, but. "Go to bed. Get some rest." He offers her his hand out to help her up. "Thank you," says Teris in a voice that's uncharacteristically small. She eyes the hand offered to her for a moment, hesitant, then lifts her own to accept the help to her feet, weak legs or not. Once she's standing, she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move. Red eyes glance from here to there, taking in this place where her brother spent so many turns. She draws in a slow breath, composing herself, then she offers the bronzerider a polite inclination of her head. "I'll... see you, then." Teris starts to move toward the ledge, pausing briefly by the trunks to look at them. "I'll have them come back for these tomorrow unless you'd rather leave them to use yourself." And then she's making her way out to her dragon, leaving W'chek with all his memories of their only common interest. |
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