Logs:Songs and Slipups
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| RL Date: 21 June, 2015 |
| Who: Dee, Kaelige |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The heart has its reasons where reason knows nothing~ |
| Where: Some cavern, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions, Zennia/Mentions |
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| If nights were long given his increased watch over the stores alongside the rest of the many things he does during those hours, days felt all the longer. He wasn't sleeping much at all, and the lazy, minimalistic way he completed his candidate chores seemed that much more pronounced. This morning isn't so different from the last handful or so in that he'd taken to following her instead of seedily planting himself in some common area to ascertain what useful information he could out of the particular ladies he knew were excellent rumor mills. What was it about her? Was it that he couldn't believe that anyone could be that good? The way she helped with Elaruth, sat on the ledges with that pole and string- what was that about?-, and threw herself so earnestly and honestly into her work. It fascinated Kaelige in a way that was, at the base of it, intoxicating. Maybe his goal was to weed out the farmcrafter's bad side- surely she had one, didn't everyone?-, or maybe seeing her was refreshing, a break from his world. Kael's thoughts follow him through the lower cavern tunnels, the ancient maze that makes up the oldest of the Weyrs. Even for someone who isn't him, it isn't hard to find the candidates for the most part given the list of chores and the general vicinities those should take them. Today, Dee's name was listed next to laundry, and Kael had passed the busier caverns meant for washing to no success. Down through the quieter, nigh empty tunnels, he walks quietly, sticking close to walls 'les someone approaches and he returns to a semi-normal gait briefly. It's when he nears the small double cavern that holds the mountains of laundry for folding that he enters the smaller first room to listen to the next. There's laundry that's treated with urgency - peoples' personal effects, and there's laundry that takes a back-burner for the plethora of other sets of linens or towels. This cavern, not so far from the chambers that hold lines for drying, is meant to be a place for the slow and steady work that is tending the sheets and other common laundry of the Weyr. The wider cavern that Dee occupies, engaged wholeheartedly in the monotony of fold-fold-pile contains other people, other voices, but Dee must be separate from those that chat some distance off as they work. Today, she works in solitary fashion as she's wont to do from time to time, letting her soft, melodic alto toy with the acoustics of the walls. She's untrained, obviously, but her songs have a kind of folksy appeal, some more entertaining than others. Today's lyrics flow one into another with even beat and the lilting style of a lullabye. "~I know where I'm going and I know who's going with me, I've got a light to guide me when the way is dark and dreary.~" Kaelige pauses beside the open doorway, listening for a moment to the sounds beyond Dee- the chatting and the rustling that isn't made by her alone. But he must think it not too important that she isn't wholly by herself since he turns to lean his back against the cool stone of the wall, his shoulder a few inches from being flush with the edge of the entranceway, and remains there. Gloved hands disappear into the crocks of his elbows as he folds his arms, gaze drifted off beneath his hood's shadow to the fresh baskets of linens in the dimmed room he's claimed, though his focus isn't on them. It doesn't really matter that she's no harper base for her songs, but the relaxing flow of the sound of her voice is settling- perhaps too settling, really. A sigh that gently heaves his chest and leans him back heavier against the wall indicates an intention to linger. "~I've got a wealth of gold and silver have I plenty, I know why there's music on an early summer's morning~" The tune goes on as she folds, with a hiccup here or there as Dee has to put some greater focus into which piece of the Weyr's glut she'll snare next to make order from chaos. The next verse asks the questions, an inquiry to the first - where is she going; who will walk beside her; when the way is weary, where is the light to guide her; where is her gold and silver brightly shining; why is there music on an early summer's morning. There's no way Dee can know just now that she's being listened to by a particular someone on the other side of the wall, and yet the last verse sounds personal, "~Well, I'm going where you go and you'll be there beside me, the love light in your eyes is all I need to guide me, the gold is in your hair--" so perhaps not Kaelige, really, "--and silver stars above me, I can hear the music just because you love me." She echoes the last line in a hum as she places the towel in hand on top of its folded brethren. Another tune, equally soft and soothing, though about meeting a lover by a lake takes her lips next, with no less feeling, but perhaps lacking in the experience to make it sound true. His blank expression gives nothing for if he sees the personal value in her songs, not that she's watching him anyway. But the draw of her voice, the enchanting melody, the fact perhaps that he's never heard a song sung quite so, brings a heaviness to Kaelige's lids that comes slowly and not so easily ignored. He slides down the wall with his back, though still a quiet thing that, catching himself enough that he should make no noise when he finally comes to sit on the floor. Arms remain folded, but the shoulders keeping them there are far more slack. The exhaustion of few hours' sleep a'day sneaks up on him, lulled into some sense of security perhaps, enough that he finds it acceptable to shut his eyes. He only means to for but a moment, of course. Just to rest them, just to let the heaviness ease. But it's not a minute after he allows them that inch that sleep catches him, his head drops those few inches, that the ever-alert boy is no longer so much so. It's time yet before Dee comes for a fresh load of things to be folded, but the time eventually does come, her footfalls quiet. It's not until she's turned with the new load tucked into her basket that she sees him. She freezes where she stands, blinking, some mixture of surprise and concern, until she realizes that this must be what Kael's shrouded form looks like at rest. With care, she crouches and sets her basket aside before crawling toward him, endeavoring to make a little noise as possible. It would be an odd moment for someone to walk in, to be sure, but fortunately, there's no one to see her approach. No one to see the way she oh-so-carefully moves to straddle his thighs, the way she leans her head down and tilts it at an odd angle to look into his sleeping face, with unfettered interest and curiosity. If he's still asleep by the time she gets there, she draws up a hand to lightly, gently trace the lines on his face as if she might be committing them and the way they look in this unguarded moment to memory. A light sleeper by trade and practice, usually just the change of presence in a room could wake him. But not this time. Kaelige still manages to look a touch like trouble even with the softness of sleep clearing his face of the thoughts and manners of wakefulness. There's limits to that depth, however, and in that gentle moment of Dee's touch a gloved hand reaches in the blink of an eye to snatch her wrist, his form suddenly tensed as if under attack and not examination. "It's Dee," is offered a little breathlessly in the moment that follows the capturing of her wrist, her fingers reluctantly lifting away in surrender. The girl says nothing more, though her weight lowers onto his legs now that he's awake. She doesn't try to move away, nor does she make any move beyond that that insists she stay. Mostly, she seems to be waiting for the next breath to bring some sign of what to do. His grip is very tight, too tight really, until as she announces herself. Kaelige's hand loosens slightly but not completely, not quite letting her go. Part of that may be his annoyance and potentially some embarrassment that he of all people just got caught not only sleeping but obviously in a telling position of what exactly he was doing. He shifts slightly to be able to look at her, the cold look on his face as he studies her eases with significant effort. "What are you doing?" Though the question would be far more appropriate aimed the other direction. There's a touch of color to Dee's cheeks, her eyes drawing away from his face a moment before coming back, "I wanted to look at you." If she's caught on to just what he was doing in that particular spot, it doesn't show. "I'm sorry. I should have let you sleep. Is this where you always sleep?" She glances about as if taking in the cavern from the new perspective of a cozy napping place. "I don't think I've ever seen you sleep before," a trend he no doubt intended to have continue unto eternity. "You look at me every day." Kaelige's humor is groggy and his tone is hushed and slow, all those things that a person suddenly roused from slumber may be. But his reaction time was not a joking thing, even if he so now tries to play it off. At her question, his blue-green eyes leave her briefly to remind himself of where they are before returning to look into her eyes. "Too many people here." Is supposed to be his answer, though his lips turn in the makings of a grin in the presence of a gentle-feeling amusement, "I would hope you haven't. I take great pains in hiding from you." "Why?" Dee wants to know, moving the hand whose wrist is still captured, as though to resume her curious tracing of his face if he'll let her. She doesn't answer the first, but she does blush a bit more at the words, even if he mightn't mean those times that she looks at him when she thinks no one is looking, with her perplexed curiosity. "Should I let you go find somewhere more private?" She wonders, though not yet making move to allow him to do so short of dumping her on the ground. Her effort is rewarded by the relinquishing of all the tension in the hand that's holding hers. Almost reluctantly, her wrist is released completely and both of his gloved hands drop to the floor to help sit himself up a little straighter. For all that he's accustomed to sleeping in strange places, rock walls are still not the most comfortable. His adjustment is slow, however, careful, as if he's no intention of rocking her position. "Every time you find me, you convince me to do terrible things." The playful spin on their situation comes easily, though provides no real answer to any of her questions. "I liked that song." Not singing, mind, as if he's heard it before? Dee has a startled laugh that pulls her fingers away from his face, just a little so she can smile her surprise at him, "Oh, so I'm the corrupter now, am I?" is asked with some measure of quiet amusement. "Next thing you know, I'll have you ice skating on the lake," this said with an appropriately sultry edge as though it were something very torrid indeed. Then her fingers briefly treat themselves to a light caress of his cheek and soft touch to his jaw as they drop away to land on her thigh. "My mother always used to sing when she worked. I miss her." It's simple explanation for the song, but something seems to have unnerved her a touch - perhaps it's the intimacy here that managed to sneak in beyond what she might've intended and she shifts as though to rise. Kaelige mocks a terribly pained expression, "Not ice skating. I can't bare the thought of participating in that." As she speaks of her mother, his face is somewhat unchanging. An unfortunate thing that he either misses the mark of where he should show sympathy or just doesn't have it. But he feels her start to rise, he reaches to place his hands on her waist as if discouraging the thought. It's gentle, though, that odd gentleness that he's shown her a scarce handful of times. His expression betrays some hint of subtle confusion or curiosity. "Is laundry so important to return to?" The words more than the touch liven the blush in Dee's cheeks and subtly her breath catches. She looks at Kaelige in silence, in consideration for the space of where there should be breaths and there are none on her part. Slowly she exhales with a shake of her head, her hands settling on her thighs, perhaps unsure of what to do with them now. "There will always be more laundry," is answered ruefully. "Have you ever ice skated?" is asked curiously, her head canting slightly to the side, chin tilted down as she searches his face for-- something? Perhaps she doesn't know what she's looking for, but that look is there. Kaelige is not so unaware of that look, but seems more distracted by whatever thoughts- clearly, not ice skating- have him quiet as she answers his earlier question. One of his hands leaves her waist to touch her hair if she'd allow, his gloved fingers, roughened by the patchy hide in the place of bare skin, would trace her cheek from there with a prolonged silence following the gesture. Eventually he would seem to come back from wherever he was, refocusing on her, "I never had a reason to." Nor the opportunity, but that would be more information than immediately necessary to give. "But you didn't answer my question. Of course there's always laundry." A small, lazy shrug moves his form slightly, briefly, beneath her. Dee is still under his touch. Fair's fair, to be sure, and she doesn't seek to hinder his exploration of her hair and cheek, though it seems to draw more color there. She watches him watch her in silence. As he touches her, there's a subtle tension that comes to her frame. It's not the same tension that is brought with fear, though there is a flicker of uncertainty across her face. Would he recognize a nervous anticipation? Dee probably doesn't for her searching expression does not change. "Didn't I?" sounds genuine enough to not be coy - but then, could Dee be coy? "It's as important as any other chore," she tries again, her eyes falling away from her face as her chin seeks to tuck downward, a quiet murmur finishing, "but not as important as this. To me." "I suppose I should be thankful I rank slightly higher than unfolded linens." The wry return is made under a smirk, though it's not nearly as harsh as Kaelige tends to be. The expression doesn't grow enough to make his face unpleasantly sarcastic as one could expect, and there's a subtle change to it that indicates an indecisiveness. Those blue-green eyes of his drop from her eyes to study her face, lingering on her lips- "Dee." Kael says, quieter, but interrupting himself purposefully. A heavy sigh makes his chest rise and fall, perhaps the result of the fact he didn't realize he was holding that breath. Stupid teenage boy, "This isn't safe." Their location? The anticipated something? Probably not either of those, but he doesn't specify. Dee can't miss where his eyes stay. It's not purposeful that she bites her lower lip in the next moment as his indecision is met with her own. As is often the case, Dee doesn't ask for clarification, but she does ask a different question, "Will we have another chance?" In another place? At another time? Is this the moment? The gloved hand that encircles her waist without all that much, if any, warning draws her into him as an abrupt answer to her question, his other which lightly cups her cheek stays there as he leans forwards that short distance to the farmcrafter girl sitting on his legs. Kaelige's kiss that meets her lips, lest she pulls away at the last moment, has a passion about it partly inflamed by that anticipation, partly because it's so wrong. So much danger in it, unknown to the one who it would matter most to. His eyes are closed in this, his form tense beneath her, restraint apparently a difficult thing. There's a startled gasp in answer to Kaelige's movement, the drawn breath captured by the seal of lips to lips. She may have been undecided in the moments before action was taken, but now that it has, she throws herself as much into the kiss as she does into those things that stem most from her feelings. Her passion is carefree and persuasive, inviting him to revel in the moment while blood rushes in the ears and heartbeats race. It's probably more dangerous than he knew, this kiss, more than she could ever guess. She is no innocent farmcrafter in this moment, but rather the weyrbed girl who didn't lie about her experience. Still, it is only a kiss, her hands finding his sides from where they rested on her thighs, fingers curling into his shirt for the duration and only slightly unclenching when she comes up for air, wide hazel eyes already on him, looking for reaction. The way she looks, with a touch of uncertainty... perhaps she's more inexperienced than she's told in word and action after all. Just a kiss that breaks all of his rules. When she returns all that he puts into that kiss, the confidence behind it builds until, just like her, the indecisiveness of the start is well left in the past. But when the time comes that it ends, Kaelige's expression is not so soft, not so adrift with the emotion that went into that exchange, as long-time-coming as it had been. Rather, he looks intense, brows furrowed and eyes slow to re-open. Even slower, it seems to look back up at her. It's not regret there, not really. But the first words that come from him may make it seem so, "I'm so sorry." From the boy who never apologizes, not with honesty, the hushed and earnest way that comes from him has a depth to it that's impossible to understand. His gloved hand still remains at her face, though eventually slides down to touch the side of her neck. His expression holds an almost pained, stressed look to it as his bluegreen eyes search her hazel ones. He at least has enough brain cells left to add one thing more before that may seem all too similar to the experience she'd told him about before, "I don't want to hurt you." This is Dee at both her most observant and her most vulnerable. Something about the first words, the apology brings a sadness to her eyes that have her glancing briefly away to him as she masters the feeling and looks back, only then leaning in with the intention of putting her forehead against his for a moment of slowly drawn breaths and closed eyes. It's a bracing movement. "Are you going to?" She asks after a moment, followed closely by, "I don't want to hurt you either." Nothing about his actions support the resistance of his words, and the thumb of the hand at her neck lightly massages there as she presses her forehead to his. Kaelige closes his eyes again in that, the vulnerability in this moment something incredibly foreign. A light pressure is returned as he leans towards her. The support of his embrace seeks to hold her there for that moment, his breaths long, quiet, slow not all unlike her own. There's a smile that creeps its way to his lips that can possibly be more felt than seen as that expression softens just a little, "Hurt me? You couldn't be more good." In that hushed voice there could be something of incredulity, maybe even the subtlest admirative quality. "And I'm far from it." Another deep breath, "I should have stayed away from you." Should have, didn't, and the regret that really should be attached to that, is entirely absent. "Kael," Dee murmurs, her alto anxious, "the timing... we're Standing for eggs that are going to hatch, soon." Not even in sevens long enough for them to sort out if there are feelings there to warrant this degree of teenage confusion. "You want to Impress, to be Weyrleader one day. I-- don't." Not just to be Weyrleader, but to Impress at all. "I-- you--" the girl shifts so she can press herself to him if he doesn't stop her, "You'll be staying here, and I'll be going home, and--" How can she explain it? It's all awful to entertain. "Fuck," is a true swear that leaves her, miserably, in the moment before her lips seek his again. Kaelige listens as she speaks, as she shifts to be that much closer, but before he can argue with her, he's caught up in another kiss. All those thoughts are put on pause as he returns it, lost in it. It takes him too long to collect himself, too long to think again. "I don't-" He catches himself also too late, and as the fuzziness of his thoughts gain some hint of clarity and he regains some sort of sense, he adds, "Maybe that would be for the best." His hand falls from her back to the floor beside him, "You may yet Impress. You may not go home." A quiet reminder, but something that feels as though he's excluding himself from the picture. He shifts his weight beneath her, a suggestion of his intent to rise. "Will you be so miserable if you stay?" Dee's press backward is in answer to the suggestion of his body, not really skittering back, but shifting swiftly enough that she seems surprised to find herself back on her own rump beyond his legs in short order instead of still enjoying that moment of closeness and intimacy. Her expression holds apology, regret, frustration and underneath it all the kindling of desire. "I have no way to know," she murmurs. "But I won't end up a great master if I stay." She exhales slowly, "My mother is the romantic. I... didn't inherit that trait from her." Even if he's decidedly found romance novels under her pillow on a consistent basis. "Maybe..." she takes a breath and the dares, "Maybe if we don't Impress you can come with me back to Southern. You might like it there. The beaches and there will be clutches there, and S'dellan is a terrible Weyrleader, and I'm sure you would be much better," she's beginning to babble. Being better than S'dellan isn't a high compliment, of course, but that's probably not what she's thinking about just now. As Kaelige stands, a thumb and forefinger tug on the peak of his hood before he reaches for her hands to take them if she'd oblige him that and pull her up with him. Of his expression, the seriousness found there is slightly at war with the humor he attempts to draw upon. "It was just a kiss, right?" Even if it wasn't but could be passed off as such easily enough if she decided to do so. That in and of itself seems to be his answer in regards to her babbling which he waits through with a calm patience, the edges of his lips upturned as if he finds her suggestion amusing. A calmness which may indicate the walls put back in place. "I should go." Of all the things he's thinking, that's all he manages to say. There's a brief moment where it might seem she won't take those offered hands after all. Dee's giving him a strange, unsettled and decidingly disagreeing look in answer to his question once she's on her feet. "No," is blunt. She sighs, withdrawing her hands from his and looking suddenly confused and tired. "There's too much going on right now to even think about all of this." She confesses, practically. "Can we... just agree to talk about this after the eggs hatch and we see where things stand?" It's a request that's not quite a plea, though she is asking for his understanding and for his willingness to talk, later, when what they say could matter more. "We'll see." Kaelige's emotional confusion, as alien to him as could be imagined, is tucked away, that face of his ungiving as far as what he's really feeling, unlike moments ago. It is, at least, not a no to her not-quite-plea. "And Dee.." He takes a deliberate step forward to close the distance between them just one more time to place a hand behind her head, a kiss against her forehead unless she'd deny him that. It has a sense of finality to it, though one could take it as a goodbye instead of something more. The gesture itself is brief as he steps away again, "Be safe." For all that they're involved in, and what more Dee may unknowingly be in now, his farewell is carefully made. And unless she stops him, he would turn away from her at that, hooded head bowed as he returns to the tunnels that brought him here. Dee's head tilts obligingly to make the kiss to her forehead all the easier to deliver, but the way she's biting her lip when her head straightens again, and the way there's that perceptible glitter in her eyes says all too plainly that the kiss has been taken in a particularly final light. She says nothing - perhaps fearing to speak that the emotions brimming in her eyes might slip free, but she tilts her chin in tacit acknowledgement of his last two words, managing the ghost of a rueful smile that should easily give him the unspoken answer before watching him go: she'll do her best. Doesn't she always? |
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