Logs:The Bandage Approach

The Bandage Approach
Staying with you will hurt you more than if I-- than if we stop now.
RL Date: 11 July, 2016
Who: Jocelyn, Lys, Aidavanth, Evyth
Involves: High Reaches Weyr
Type: Log
What: Lys breaks up with Jocelyn.
Where: Jocelyn's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr
When: Day 4, Month 4, Turn 41 (Interval 10)

Mentions: Jaine/Mentions




There's a nervous flutter that heralds Evyth's touch of Aidavanth's mind. Normally, Evyth wouldn't intrude. Normally, she wouldn't say anything, but events of the past sevenday have been anything but normal, so it's with no little amount of trepidation that she reaches for Aidavanth in a time when Jocelyn is known to be otherwise engaged in professional matters. « Aidavanth, » the hesitation shows the green not to be fully committed to the course, but after a moment she dares, « Jocelyn should go home, now. » That's not too much of a betrayal is it? Not when Lys is in Jocelyn's weyr with an empty bag, heading for the place where Jocelyn lets her keep her things so she doesn't have to rush home for a clean change of clothes or the things she needs to do her hair on nights when she's stayed over. There are brief snippits of that idea along with Evyth's concern for what she worries so intensely will be folly on the part of her beloved rider. Aidavanth, who happens to be feeding when Evyth reaches her, pauses mid-chew to take in what her sister has risked sharing, straightening to turn her head in the direction of the caverns proper. « I will tell her, » she says at last, heavily. If she could comfort one of her favorite greens with the knowledge that all would ultimately be well, she would. Instead, she wordlessly shares her own concern over the concepts presented, the hint of something resembling dread bobbing faintly in the other's direction. It's perhaps fortunate that Jocelyn is wrapping up a meeting, and after quickly making her excuses, heads for her weyr with a white face, lips pressed thin. Sailing through the tapestry connecting to the weyrleader complex, she throws her stack of folders toward the table (which they miss, cascading down onto the floor) and marches in the direction of her sleeping chamber until she can catch sight of Lys, whom she observes briefly in silence. "Lys." It comes out surprisingly evenly, given the givens. "What are you doing?" Lys must have been too focused on the task at hand to notice the anxiety that Evyth probably couldn't fully hide from her at her betrayal, for she turns, surprised, by Jocelyn's appearance in her own weyr. She regards the redhead a moment as she regains her composure. "You weren't supposed to be back yet." The blonde states the obvious before turning back to place her hairbrush into her bag. "I was here to pack my things so it wouldn't-- so this would be less--" She shakes her head, looking back over her shoulder to the goldrider. "I love you, Joce, but I can't give you what will make you happy. I can't even be the person who really makes you happy." She's doing this for Jocelyn's own good, plainly. "No, " Jocelyn agrees carefully, "I wasn't. You have Evyth to thank for that." For Lys's assertion, the other rider has an even stare, an expression that gives away very little of what's behind its neutrality unlike her openness of some days ago. "If this is what you really want, what will make you happy, I won't stop you. But Lys, at least have the decency to explain yourself. This is the second time you've said that you can't be the kind of person who would truly make me happy." Her arms fold across her chest, more out of self-protection than anything else. "I love what I know of you, which I hope you know by now. Is there something I don't know that you think I could never accept? Is it a matter of having experienced too many personal demons that you think I'll never understand? I was under the impression that you trusted me." Lys' grimace can just be seen before she turns her head back to the drawer, withdrawing items and putting them into her bag with increased speed and decreased care. She pauses as Jocelyn speaks, drawing a slow breath, one that she has to work to make even. She puts a few more things into the bag before she turns toward the goldrider she's come to know well. "I know you do. Love what you know of me. I love you. None of what I love about you will ever go away, so I expect I always will love you." She reaches up to rub her forehead with her palm briefly then goes on, "I trust you to be you, and you will not love all of me, if you come to know all of me. It's been easier to hold myself apart," as the goldrider pointed out. "But what's important-- what explains this is that I can't make you happy, in the end. Staying with you will hurt you more than if I-- than if we stop now. There is no scenario in which we weyrmate, Jocelyn. Not for any lack of love, but because that's not who I am." Among other things, surely. Silently, Jocelyn listens. And as Lys continues, the color all but drains from her face, leaving only two, bright spots high on her cheeks. "I trusted you, " she says lowly, unable to hide the little tremble in her frame. Painfully, "I trusted you, " much in the same tone that one would say, 'look at how foolish I was.' Her eyes squeeze shut briefly; they're wet when they open again, slate gray. "I'm sorry that you apparently can't say the same." The goldrider's posture stiffens; her chin lifts, and the willfulness behind that stony look is every inch that used by Jocelyn-the-weyrwoman. "And if what you say is true, whether it's some pretty phrasing used to mask something else you'd rather not say - or not, then perhaps the bandage approach is the best one to use, after all." She takes a half-step to the side so that she's no longer blocking the doorway. "Was there anything else?" Lys watches the redhead, seeming to hesitate- considering something until that last question is asked. She closes her eyes, shutting them tight a moment and taking a breath. "No, I'll be done shortly." She turns back to the bag, continuing to pack for a moment, only then she twists back halfway to say, "If you can't accept me telling you this hard truth, then I'm right and there isn't a whole version of me that you could love, that you would want to weyrmate even if I could-- even if I would." A briefer pause before, "I'm a liar, a cheat and a thief, Jocelyn, but I would never hurt you," she swears softly, before adding, "Other than now, obviously. I just want you to be happy. I can't make you happy and be honest." So it's a choice between the two, it seems. So she turns back to reach with a sweep to draw the other few items into her bag and shut it with a painful finality. "You already have, " says Jocelyn with a short bark of a laugh immediately after Lys's admission, arms falling to her sides so that her hands can take white-knuckled grips onto her pants' pockets. "In fact, you've managed to hurt me more than anyone else has. You say that you'd never hurt me, but you admit to lying, swindling and stealing from others. You don't need me to tell you how that sort of behavior reflects on the Weyr for which you ride - and, by extension, on me, Lys, if everyone knew the extent of - " She breaks off there, breathes deeply through her nose. "I won't tell you how to live your life. But know this: If your extracurricular activities are ever connected to an investigation in which I must take part, as someone who is sworn to protect what's right, just and best for her home and Weyr; if there is a connection that can be made between your behavior and criminal activities, I. Will. Do. My. Job. And nothing else, nothing else, will ever be part of those considerations. I see no need to ask if you understand me. You're not that brand of stupid. Certainly not as foolish as I was, to give you my trust. If there's nothing further, greenrider, I think you had best see to the remainder of your duties for the day." It's flat, icy and at the end, shakily angry. Lys just looks at the goldrider, her eyes betraying the hurt that is expectations being fulfilled as the redhead goes on. She's quiet while Jocelyn finishes, and there's some subtle satisfaction missed with the silence that she had not misjudged her partner, "I know that, Joce. Imagine how much worse it would have been, had you found out at the moment you had to do your job." She sighs, a heavy sound as she turns to re-check the space that was her tiny, tangible piece of Jocelyn's world. She looks back to the goldrider. "I never lied to you, Jocelyn. There were just things I didn't tell you because I wanted to be the one to make you happy. It was selfish and I'm sorry." She shoulders the bag and makes movement toward the door. "The real Lys always loved you, even if you could never love her," is quiet parting remark as she moves toward the ledge. She can't cry here, now. She'll do that soon, but not before she's with her lifemate and away. Lys's apology falls on ears that aren't listening, even if Jocelyn physiologically hears it in the here-and-now. The unfortunate thing about the weyr being hers is that she doesn't have the luxury of running. So she turns away with a final, "Get out, " frame shaking as Lys makes her exit. The fortunate thing about the weyr being hers; she can cry here, now. And she does, stumbling toward Aidavanth's couch as the queen lands moments after Lys is gone, pushing her way into their living space with whirling eyes that flash red-yellow. Curled tightly together, they remain there for an hour afterward, then two. At least with it being Jaine's night off, they have the rest of the day in which to try to pick up the pieces.