Logs:Teisyth's Belated Turnday Gift
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| RL Date: 10 April, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Rh'mis, Rosvelth, Teisyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Two days after G'laer's 29th turnday, Teisyth gives him an unplanned turnday gift: her second mating flight and a roll in the sheets with 17 turn old Rh'mis (because the first flight went so well!). |
| Where: Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 24, Month 6, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Teisyth had tried not to wind up tangled with Rosvelth this time. She could feel through G'laer how sad it had made him, even though she remembered none of it. But once the blood was burning in her, the only thing that mattered was the fun of the flight; she didn't even care that so few had shown up to fly with her. But maybe that's what happens when your biological clock has one rising at dawn. The colors of the sunrise had made everything better. By the time she was snuggled up next to the brown, she couldn't even remember how it had happened, but that was alright. Surely Rosvelth would tell her, and his stories were always delightful if sometimes also scary or exciting or both. But inside the rock walls of the guest weyr, she could feel things were decidedly less than delightful, and that's why she pressed just a little closer to the big brown. Inside, there's G'laer. Grimacing G'laer. G'laer moving carefully as he pushes himself off the rug and onto his knees. There's a glance for the bed, the untouched bed, and back to the rug. At least there had been a rug. At least they'd made it that far. His next move is to try to gently settle himself on his rump while his pants still trap his calves, but there are rug burns to be inspected before he tries to do anything about those pants. It's not Rosvelth's fault that he's a stud. Honestly, it's not like he did it deliberately. Nor is it his fault that Teisyth is fun to chase - and even more fun to catch. Now, though, he's uncharacteristically quiet, those cape-like wings certainly spread out to envelop the green beside him, but without dramatic effect. Inside, Rhey has fallen back from G'laer, and scurred further still. He's still mostly clothed - his pants are unbuttoned, but his belt is still in place (and may well have left bruises; sorry about that). Now, though, he's huddled upon the rug, arms wrapped around his knees, shaking. Though Teisyth might like to ask Rosvelth to tell the story, it's more important just now to be quiet. Maybe G'laer will forget she lives in his head if she draws no attention to herself (for once), then she won't have to feel so guilty. The bruises are probably part of the reason G'laer moves delicately (sorry; a likely story), but probably it's other tenderness that is really the reason. Dawn caught him by surprise and left him unprepared (ouch). "Crackdust." The greenrider who never swears swears. For once, his super powers of observation seem to be failing him (or maybe he doesn't care), for he hasn't looked to the much younger man before sighing, "It just figures you'd end up one of my frequent fliers." Two for two! Then he shifts. Then he looks. Then he-- "Shit," as one kicking himself, "Are you alright, Rhey?" The familiar name even, not the formal. "Fine." Rhey's tone is clipped, edging towards sharp without actually crossing that line. He doesn't look up as he's addressed; indeed, he stares even more intently at his raised knees, and the pale hands that now rest atop them. Perhaps by sheer force of will he'll manage to still his shoulders and straighten his spine, though it's going to take at least a few moments more. Except: "Why can't you get your fucking green to leave him alone?" Rosvelth twitches, just once, outside; a shiver, somehow electric. « I, » he says, thoughts shiny and rippling with gold, « like catching you, Teisyth. That's why I keep doing it. » « I had fun! » Oops. So much for being invisible. Suddenly Teisyth is no longer certain of herself, « I think I had fun. » Then quietly beseeching of the brown, « I had fun, right? » How absurdly quick the details slip away from her. That's why, her mind rambles with reasoning, it is so good when Rosvelth catches her; he knows the story. "Oh, for fuck's sake," Three in a row! G'laer sounds what he feels for once: exasperated and exhausted. "It's not like she tried for him. She wanted to do the opposite before the flight started, for me, but she can't help what happens in flight anymore than you or I or Rosvelth can. It's all instinct." He could go on, but instead he lies back to lift his hips and jerk his pants roughly upward, a wince-winning act he obviously regrets and has him lying still in recovery. How could Teisyth not have had fun? She was with Rosvelth, and what could possibly be more fun than that? Instead of answering in words, he radiates smugness, and this, as much as anything, is probably what has Rhey's shoulders stiffening so much as, finally, he begins to, uh, put himself away. "If it happens again, I will cut you," he says, coolly. "I'll... you'll regret it. You'll fucking regret it." G'laer's present state doesn't seem to bother him: the brownrider begins to stand, still keeping his gaze away from the greenrider. « You love it, » says Rosvelth, smugly. To Teisyth? To Rhey? There's really only so much a seasoned, muscular man of 6'2" is going to take from a scrawny kid who, what, served in a puppeted army full of boys for all of a month? Perhaps it's worse that he doesn't bother to stand to threaten Rh'mis properly. Instead, he's rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow. "Seriously?" The tone makes the idea preposterous in the single word. Teisyth is reassured by Rosvelth's smugness. And, « Of course I did! » Like she remembers, even if he's not talking to her. She feels better. Rhey's expression darkens: he scowls. "Fuck you," he says. And then, "Oh, wait. I already did." Funny. Really. Really. "Good luck with... sitting down any time soon." With that, he begins to turn, apparently intending to simply leave: the wonderful thing about not having bothered to get undressed before the games is that there's not much to keep him here, now. Rosvelth is clearly ignoring his rider's fury (he's got to be good at that, by now), and tells Teisyth, « And that's why I'll always catch you. » "This is never going to happen again," says his rider. To G'laer? To Rosvelth? "Two out of two? I'd check your odds again." G'laer answers, even if he's not talking to him. "Some dragons have a way of finding a dragon or two that, for whatever reason always catch them. So maybe you should work on being a little less pissed off about it since it seems likely enough that we'll find ourselves here again." Even if Rhey's gone by now, the greenrider continues as he works on his laces, already standing, "I know I'll have to." Work on the pissed off thing. Teisyth is concerned now, « I like that. » That he should always catch her; his stories are the best! « But.. is Rh'mis very angry with you? G'laer ain't happy, an' I don't want 'em to fight next time. » Next time. Rh'mis is halfway to the door, but that comment, that thought? It makes him freeze, the line of his shoulders so stiff he might be made of wood. "Fuck you," he says. Which... well yes. Twice now, and who knows how many times in the future. "And fuck her." And fuck him, too, quite possibly, but there's no sense of that sentiment hitting home in the brown, who seeks to soothe Teisyth with his utterly sure, « He's fine. He can be so over-dramatic sometimes. » Like no one else we know, of course. « What matters is you and me, and I have so many more stories to tell you. » "Isn't the whole sharding point that you and I would rather that not happen?" G'laer answers back. Not dramatic at all. And especially not like anyone else we know. "Why does it piss you off so much anyway?" The greenrider's temper is pretty even, but there's more expression in him now than almost ever before, his voice modulating like a normal person's. He's moving gingerly to stoop and pick up his shirt. "Next time, try to watch the belt, please." After all, G'laer has yet to deliver any damage to the brownrider. Teisyth is easily convinced, and once again cheerful, especially with stories to be heard! Maybe she'll even find a way not to interrupt too much. "Maybe I'll make sure he catches, just to piss you off," says Rh'mis, over his shoulder. He doesn't wait for a reply: any further conversation would probably just make matters worse. He doesn't have an explanation. He just has... an awful lot of issues. For now, with his dragon unwilling to move anytime soon, he'll just have to go and ignore them somewhere else. |
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