Logs:The Exception
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| RL Date: 21 August, 2015 |
| Who: Jo, Yesia, Tacuseth, Aeaeth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Since Aeaeth's flight, Jo's been avoiding and Yesia's been reluctant. |
| Where: Beach, Southern Continent |
| When: Day 5, Month 8, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Keysi/Mentions, Z'ian/Mentions |
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Southern Beach Golden stand stretches in both directions for as far as the eye can see, broken only by the occasional encroaching cliff, the ancient stone formed into rockpools and outcroppings. Inland, open sand is gradually taken over by lush greenery: dense forest extending all the way back to distant mountains that might even be days of walking from here. The ocean, too, stretches out unbroken: there's no other land to be seen, nothing but blue and blue and blue until the point at which it hits the horizon, where blue meets another kind of blue, in the endless, cloudless sky. A tent-like structure has been strung up between trees and a few tall posts, providing shelter from the hot sun. There are no tables, and no chairs, beneath it, however: just a few haphazardly slung blankets, providing only the most basic comfort. A few paces beyond the edge of the tent is a bonfire built from driftwood. His shadows maybe familiar by now. Tacuseth calls with a fond touch, strong and masculine to his siren with an image of hot, white sand and cool blue waters. Tropical. « Need to relax, sweets? » he sends for a greeting before adding an image of his Jo, lounging in a pale yellow bikini under a manmade canopy to block the sunlight from her. (To Aeaeth from Tacuseth) His shadows will meet Aeaeth's mind humming to itself: low-volumed instrumentals without any definite rhythm, swirling with luminous veils that obscure her thoughts that prove she's distracted. She returns quickly though. « Oh, the beach! » is her excitable response for the water, the sand. But it's reined in for the image of Jo, her sudden white-noise identifiable only as reluctance. « I cannot come alone, » she notes, intending he should infer the rest; certainly Tacuseth must see the problem. Tacuseth doesn't try to jar Aeaeth's musical distraction; rather, his shadows try to blend in with it, blurring then sharpening its edges as he sends amiably enough, « Anytime is time for the beach, mine says. » There's a pause though, as if he's checking something since his shadows withdraw from her for a moment before he returns and addresses her latter. To that, « Mine has avoided her long enough, » he admits with a touch of firmness. « Avoidin' hasn't lessened her thoughts of her. I want her to try. She... » and there's a pause as if he's checking to see if his lady is paying any attention to him, « She likes her, » he reveals with a touch of amusement. « I offer company. You can choose to tell yours. » Presumably about the fact that they're there. Aeaeth is a relay switch: Tacuseth speaks, and her veils still to take it in before dancing and swirling distractedly. Her own desires are plain; she is already warming to the idea of the blue waters and chasing fish, but the reluctance lingers. It isn't clear what is happening behind the swaths of fabric, only that she is listening regardless, and there is a chime of surprise, fingers depressing too many piano keys. « Truly? She is avoiding us? This is not how you treat someone you like. » She isn't scolding him, or even Jo. She's just saying what needs to be said, and there are more whispers hidden in back rooms before, measured with pops of pink, « I can choose not to, too. But she says the beach sounds nice. » « It's far deeper than the surface, sweets, » Tacuseth sends on avoidance, his shadows continuing to lay alongside the colors and sounds of Aeaeth's mind. There's a reluctance here, but, after a pause, « She's been hurt before. Badly. » It's clear that's something only between them, the shadows darkening to suggest it's something he usually wouldn't reveal. But, « I've been talkin' to her, sweets. Let me take care of her on my end. I'm used to her ways. » He doesn't go into detail, but he relays the visual of the sandy beach again as he adds, « I'm goin' fishing. Mine's sleep. Come join me in the water! » Static, with lingering echoes of piano notes, in lieu of any judgment Aeaeth might pass; she can only speak for Yesia, and she does in the form of, « When she is ready, we will come. I will warn her. Once we get there. Probably. » A pause. « We will have fun. They will figure it out. » Because Yesia is never quick when it comes to her leisure, it is a bit of time before they appear in the sky, a pop of green that spirals lazily downwards and skims the coastline for some treasure. Ultimately she spots it: Tacuseth blue and Jo yellow, and her landing is a dragonlength away, with Yesia still apparently none-the-wiser. Or perhaps the rigid way in which she removes her things from Aeaeth's straps, and then the straps themselves, says more about it than her silence. She's angled her body in just such a way as to not look their direction, even as she begins winding them up and unpacking select pieces of her day bag. A towel, a bottle of sun lotion, a floral-patterned sarong. There's a single, surreptitious glance that direction, but not for Jo exclusively; it's mostly for Aeaeth, who bounds towards Tacuseth and at the last moment flies over him low, to splash into the water, at the expense of anyone who might be close. «Exactly, sweets, » Tacuseth is pleased to hear from Aeaeth, busying himself with watching the skies as Jo sleeps on. Once the greenpair arrives and lands, he doesn't give the customary call just yet. Instead, he watches from his place in the water, close to the shore, as the pair gets settled. In the end, though, it's not the warbled greeting the blue sends their way that wakes his convict rider up. Rather, it's the splash made from Aeaeth's little dive, Tacuseth ducking just in time as she dives over him. Jo is slow to wake, her eyes cracking open first towards the mixed blur of blue and green before she gains her focus. "Tacuseth, who....?" is probably barely heard as she rouses fully awake and tries to sit herself up, her dark gaze sharpening on Aeaeth last....and then as if she could sniff her out, her head turns in Yesia's direction. Aeaeth is under the water for a few moments, then comes up spouting water from her nose and splashing more water with her wings as she founders like a capsized boat, most of her bulk under the water. She blows bubbles. « Hi. » Yesia is fastidious in ignoring all the antics in and out of the water, her top gone and folded into the bag, then her trousers in favor of the sarong, and then she's laying her towel out an estimated distance from the water that might give her reprieve from any draconic splashing. Another glance - and this one meets Jo's before ducking away and she says, "I'm not going to bother you. She just wanted to come play in the water." No apologies. Nothing much of anything really, except a handwave as she toes her towel into place and settles on it. Tacuseth seems to come alive in the water, for when Aeaeth surfaces, he immediately dips his body down and tries to wing a splash in her direction. « Hey there!, » he sends, his pleasure almost something to touch. « I saw yer favorite lil' fishes not too far from here! They'll be fine right where they are, though, they should get in the water, » indicating the southern heat bearing down on them all. Well, maybe not all of them since Jo's under some shade in the form of a canopy, even if her skin looks damp. Jo doesn't turn from Yesia's gaze, meeting it head-on until she says what she does. It's only then that she sends a long, odd look towards the playing dragons - most likely towards the blue than the green - the look lingering longer on him than normal before she sits forward and brings her knees up as if she see her better. "Yer ain' botherin' me, darlin'," she says, her tone low but audible, her dark gaze lingering on all of her. "It's hot out today, though. Stay out there'n yer gonna burn bad." She watches her, nodding to that handwave. Studying her. It's awkward. "Could've fooled me," Yesia undertones darkly, likely too quiet to be heard even as she draws her bag closer. She rummages through it blindly for some moments before she pulls out a bottle and holds it up, briefly, for Jo to see. "I brought sun lotion," she remarks with apparent cheer, "But your concern is noted. I'm not staying long. Not more than an hour." That earns a sound from Aeaeth in the water, who has thus far been busy dodging splashes and delivering them back in kind. « The fishes, » she advises at once, because they can't go without their lifemates, and smoothly she turns in the water, submerging and launching away. « This way, right? » which may or may not be correct, with the vastness of oceans. She agrees on their riders, « They'll be fine, but the fish are too fast. If they leave, we'd have to search for them all afternoon. » And wouldn't that be the worst? "What...?" Maybe Jo didn't hear that first bit, but it was clear that something was said and perhaps it was Yesia's body language that clicked it. Still, she seems to be taking in that cheery response, and that last gets a snort from her as she looks away and shakes her head. "Can't wait to be away from me, more like," she doesn't even bother hiding the words as she looks towards the water and their dragons. "I 'spose ya weren' told I was here." It's not a question. As for Tacuseth, « We'll keep'em in our sights, » he promises the green, taking a leisurely dive in the direction of the school of fishes he saw. « It's not too far. They may need our help anyway. If they swim too far, » the fishes, « we'll just sniff out more. Yer hide looks lovely still, I see. » Yes, he's a smooth-talker. He's not hiding that fact. « I think mine needs oilin' soon. I have this lil' itch startin'... » "She told me when we got here," Yesia says, starting the application of that lotion with her arms and neck, and yes, chest. "She likes the water. And the fish and the sun. I don't tell her no so much anymore." It sounds a little like something good came out of that flight of theirs, even if it is confined to rider-dragon relations, and not so much with others. Yesia cuts squinting look in Aeaeth and Tacuseth's direction. "It's a public place. If you don't like it, I figure you can go somewhere else to avoid me. You've gotten very good at it. I already said I was sorry." Did she? Maybe. They said a lot, after all. Aeaeth's agreement is colorful bubbles, a strange amalgamation of their environment and her own tricky mind, which blossoms into big blue bubbles at his compliment. « I am not as bright, » she laments, « but Yesia takes good care of me. Even when she was upset. Every day, we go down and she oils me. You should ask before -- » Aeaeth hesitates, and her eyes flash distractedly at a school of fish. Not the ones they were looking for, no, but, « These are brighter! » Jo's not hiding the fact that from where she sits, as she absently rubs hands up and down her arms, she's watching the path that lotion takes. After a pause, "Tac likes the water, too," she admits, looking over at their dragons. "I usually come here to try'n clear my head, but, he likes it here 'cuz he can hunt'n swim." She looks about to add more, but it's Yesia's next that cuts a long look in her direction. It's immediate, the "I-" but she cuts it off in the very same breath and presses her lips together with a frown. The silence is awkward as the convict rider looks almost lost for words, or defiant. Or both. The water gets most of her frowning before she slowly gets to her feet and brushes whatever stray sand from the side of her butt and her hands themselves before making her way slowly over towards Yesia in the hot sunlight. In awkward silence she reaches the greenrider's side before crouching down in the sand beside her first, facing the shore, and then sitting back on her butt and drawing her knees up with her scarred arms draping over them. Then, "Yesia, I..." she starts, then stops, not looking at her. Looking ahead. "Did'ja want me around?" she chooses to ask then, her head turning a fraction towards her. "I figured... I thought ya would want me to...." - « Yer bright enough to me, » Tacuseth croons, his swim smooth and leisurely as is his shadows with her bubbles. « Before? » And then fishes, of course. « Better, » he agrees before he urges Aeaeth to follow suit and start the proper sneak on the school for capture. « Just like last time, sweets. » Yesia's movements may actually be deliberate, but pale as she is thoroughness is necessary. She can't be blamed if Jo can't keep her eyes to herself. The newly-graduated rider doesn't have commentary on Jo's intentions here, or of Tacuseth's, instead moving her attention to her exposed legs. Jo's movements curtail her own; she stops with one leg drawn up, her chin against her knee, and simply observes the bluerider's approach with an inscrutable expression. The question gets a half shrug. "I don't care," she says dismissively. "I just was stupid enough to believe you when you said you --" Another shrug, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter. But if you keep sleeping with people and avoiding them after, you're going to run out of corners of Pern." Aeaeth's objection is in his semantics, trilling piccolos. « Better than last time. » And she slows, half to angle around the fish, and half to tune into something on the shore. « Are they going to fight again? » Concerned. « She is so unhappy when they fight. Or, she was. » Dark eyes falling on those exposed legs as she runs a hand through her hair, "It was true," Jo states when Yesia cuts herself off to believing her, before she tries to look her in the eyes. "All of it was. All of it still is." That doesn't explain the avoidance, though, and her frustrated look says it. It's the last that has her giving into a soft snort and a, "That's the thing, darlin'. I don't. But with you, I....If I tell ya why, yer gonna think it's stupid'n yer gonna laugh at me. 'N I don' blame ya." It's obvious by the genuine frown that she doesn't like being tongue-tied - or, being out of her element. It seems foreign on the woman and it shows as she looks to be struggling with something. « Most definitely, » Tacuseth, meanwhile, is in his element of hunting, but he stills at Aeaeth's observations of his riders. He looks back towards the shore where they are before sending a soothing, « Mine doesn' like it when they fight either. But she's tryin', this time. » So he's listening, at least, or he's poking at his rider's thoughts without being intrusive. Yesia is maybe not a patient and active listener, but she is quiet while Jo talks at least, focused on her task. She doesn't even refute it out of the gate, save a scoffed "hah" for the explanation that isn't an explanation, shaking her head in short movements. Eye contact is fruitless; Yesia keeps her eyes away, on the ground or on her leg, or out to the water where she can imagine any of those bubbles rising to the surface are her dragon's. Something strikes her odd though, enough that she turns her head to face the bluerider with suspicion in her eyes. "With me what?" That's another of her little challenges, head canting slightly to the side. "You don't care what I think. You don't care what anyone things, and you told me to do the same." Aeaeth is still drifting towards those fish, careful undulating movements. « I'll talk to her. » Yesia, obviously. « She doesn't understand. I can't just...tell her. » And predators they are, hunters, so, « Now. » The moment is prime, and with a flick of her long tail she surges towards the school. With Yesia not looking at her, not meeting her gaze, Jo returns hers to the sea. She's quiet - deathly so - not seeming to rise to that challenge at first, until, "Ya don' get it, do ya, lil' Red?" she sends it low as she uncurls herself to lean her elbows back into the hot sand. "I wasn' avoidin' ya 'cuz I didn' like ya, or 'cuz yer some 'fuck'n-run' like ya wanna think, Yesia. 'N yeah, there's a whole shit of folks who I don' care what they think, but then, that's not everybody," if she's even making sense at this point. "There's exceptions to everythin'. Even...this." Digging her roughened fingers into the sand, "Told'ja I've been in two relationships, right?" she phrases it now as Tacuseth is flanking Aeaeth and keeping his movements equally quiet. « Fear can do many things to them, sweets, » he sends while doing so. « Go! » He surges forward on the hunt, his mouth open and ready to collect as they go on the attack. Leg switch. Faranth forbid she end up burned on one side and tanned on the other. "What's to get?" Yesia starts, but then there is unfamiliar silence. "I'm supposed to believe you give a shit what I think?" She didn't promise not to laugh, so she does, a harsh bark of it that lacks any real humor. "Faranth. You fucked - twice - and ran off. That's pretty cut and dry. I told you I don't care. And I don't remember. You said something about some trader boy and some ...girl, who was the first girl you were with. You didn't say anything about relationships; you just told me about them so you could..." Pause. Maybe Jo is making not as much sense as she thinks she is. "Even what?" Aeaeth is quick quick, and her mouth is big enough to take off the back flank of the fish before she angles up for the surface, for air and for a convenient way to eat her catch. And to watch the humans on the shore a distance away. Being humans. Awkward, weird humans. "I didn' run off," Jo nearly growls that, looking Yesia's way. "I needed to think is all. I-" But Yesia is laughing and her brows furrow further. After a heavy moment, "No," she corrects. "Deetan was the first one. The trader boy. First one I fell for'n this was before his ass upped and fucked me over. Got me sent to the mines. Still, I remember when he was around, I'd get these...weird flutterins' here-" she pulls her fingers out of the sand to wiggle them over her exposed abdomen. "Same thing with the bronzerider. Z'ian. I was with him, too, before he injured himself and went south here." Pause. "Now you," she admits with a dark look going to the greenrider. "Before yer flight, even. But after, I freaked a bit. After Z'ian, I didn' think I was even able to..." Her lips press together and straightens up from her lean back as she adds, "I dunno, alright? Like ya said. Ya don' care. It doesn' matter. I should've handled that better, though. After. For that..." For that, the convict rider holds out her hand towards Yesia, palm up. It's the same gesture she had done, but the apology she has a hard time saying aloud is there in her eyes and the gesture. As Tacuseth surfaces with his own catch with a flourish, « Fightin' folks in bars is easier than this, » he sends to Aeaeth for his rider, along with visuals of some interesting bar fights that spilled outside a bar that he has seen. "Think about--" starts Yesia again, apparently not unwilling to row even though her intention in coming here wasn't to engage in one. The silence that follows is a completely different brand than the others, her expression hard in the places it can be, her brows drawn tight and her mouth flat in a bloodless line as she glares back at the bluerider...in decrasing increments of intensity. "You." She says, and this is very much deja vu, her head shaking and those curls bobbing. It may be for Jo, but more likely it isn't; it's hard to catch the glassing of her eyes as Aeaeth bobs in the water, staring at her, but it's there. It could as easily be for the little green. "You told me not to care," she says, sounding frustrated. Her hand, for the moment, is ignored. "You - can't keep changing your mind about things!" Says the ficklest of greenriders. Aeaeth chews her fish thoughtfully, intent on the riders on the bank, and meets his images with the only Yesia she's known, angry and telling people off, defiant, curled in a chair alone, curled in their wallow together. « Anything should be easier than fighting, » she says, paddling hesitantly towards the shore and then banking away when she thinks the better of it. Her hand still held out, "I did," Jo doesn't refute what all she's told Yesia, her head tilting at an angle a bit to meet her gaze. "But there are exceptions, darlin'." Then, with a self deprecating snicker, "I ain' used to talkin' 'bout shit like this, baby," she admits dryly. "I'm more of a show-er than a tell-er." She looks down at her untaken hand before it drops to the sand and she gives in a sort of quick grin, "It's alright. We ain' gotta talk 'bout this. Reckon I'm only makin' this worse than better, the more I talk. Yer graduated. Must be glad 'bout that, right?" It's an offer to change the subject if she wanted, the frustration and tension in the bluerider evident in her half-naked frame. With Tacuseth now intent on his caught meal, there's amusement given to Aeaeth's visuals returned. « Agreed, » he sends wisely. « It's hard for mine to admit things she's feelin', » he explains. « It's easier to let folks believe what they want of her, she thinks. But I don' think that's good. Do ya wanna go to shore? » There is a small flicker of movement when Jo retracts her hand, like Yesia might reach out to take it - accepting whatever tacit apology it holds - but when she moves it in reality it just goes for her jar, so she can screw the lid back in place with her mouth pursed down in a frown, her eyes confused. "You," she says again with measured control, "want to be my exception." She doesn't take the hook that Jo's baited for other conversation - nobody's even tapped her yet - so there really isn't much to talk about. And anyways, "We have to talk about it. You can't like me," with the same emphasis Tacuseth used, "because it doesn't make sense. And because I told you I don't...girls. It doesn't make sense," she repeats, lamely. "Anymore than...showing me by just ignoring my existance." A puff of air towards her curls, then, "You scare me." Aeaeth considers the shore, considers Tacuseth. « I want to, » she admits, « but I think if I do, we will leave. And we've only just come here, and Southern sunsets are the best. » And the company isn't bad either. « They will just avoid each other forever. They have to come to something. We can't be sad and confused always. » Her dark eyes following those hands, those fingers rather than her face, it's when Yesia says it - when she gets it, that Jo meets her gaze head on. "Yer exception," she repeats it before a bare single nod in a hoarse voice. To the latter, "Why do ya think I freaked'n needed to go think?" she puts to Yesia on why it doesn't make sense. "I know ya don' like girls. I shouldn' like ya." She's willing to admit both, but there's a slight shrug, almost helpless. To ignoring her existence, her face screws up a bit before she says quietly, "Lemme make that up to ya. I want to-" and the last, finally, has her studying her face in silence. Then, her hand lifts towards her, palm up again as she says carefully with sincere intent, "I wouldn' hurt ya, Yesia. I know...shit, I'm a lot of things. I get it. But, I don' want ya afraid of me. I like ya." It's admitted simply, finally, with some guardedness. "Don' gotta mean anythin' to ya," she says with an incline of her head, "but, that means somethin' to me. I can't grow a dick, darlin'." Some amusement in the end as Tacuseth sends to his green, « Sunsets are lovely here. And, I agree. Avoiding didn' work and I told her that. But I think she's gettin' it now. We can catch more fishes, or catch a wave. Have ya tried that? » He keeps his eyes on the riders as well, but he's not giving up his sole purpose of being there and inviting her! Yesia's teeth catch the inside of her cheek, and she remarks, "You already did," of any hurt, drawing her legs close to her chest to wrap her arms around them. At least when she lays her cheek against her thigh, it's still facing Jo. "You told me that I was being foolish. That I couldn't choose anything, that my life was what she wanted. She's a dragon." These are things she remembers, very plainly, the way she remembers pains, like white fabric remembers wine stains. "I don't want this to be my life. You're supposed to pick someone like Edyis. Not me." « You'd think we were pulling their teeth, » Aeaeth says anxiously, not in direct response to sunsets but instead of reacting to them. « She knows how she feels. She just knows what she learned. » The green is frustrated, but not enough to be distracted from, « Catch a wave? What is it? Show me! They're too big to hold, I don't think you can. » "Yesia..." Jo frowns a bit, seeming to find something to say - something right. "I didn' mean for that to hurt ya," she begins, shaking her head. "I just didn' want ya get caught unawares. I spent most of my weyrlin'hood fightin' Tacuseth. Fightin' the inevitable before I learned. Didn' want y'all to find it out the same way I did. I was tryin' to help." Yesia's next has an immediate, "Ya don' want-?" and maybe because of the next, her hand drops again to thread against her own as she says, "Guess it don' work like that. Ed's a good friend. Feels different with ya." Nodding, "Look, I get it, darlin'," she tells her. "Yer ain' interested. That's fine." Either it's the heat of the sand finally getting to her or something else, but she's suddenly to her feet and trying to rub the sand from her thighs as she says, not looking at her, "I bought a wineskin. Ya can have some of it. It's not very strong." Agreeing with Aeaeth, « Perhaps time will tell, » he offer as he leads her towards where waves can be seen, keeping his gaze on the riders. « I know what she needs. I just need her to see it too. Yers fears mine. » His curiosity shows there for it's clear he's not afraid of Jo. « Lemme show ya, » he now brings her towards the wave, moving a little further out. « It's easy once ya get the hang of it. Ya kind of just roll with all the way down. » "I didn't say that," Yesia says after the stretch of time that allows Jo to find her feet; the same stretch that allows her to pick her dragon out as she approaches an incoming wave, then backs away from it warily. "I said I don't want any of this. If I stayed home, I wouldn't have Impressed and I'd probably be...with some miner boy and not having to think about...whether or not Aeaeth's going to rise, or if Tacuseth or Akluseth or Neianth is going to catch her. Or if I'll be with a girl, or a boy, or any of it." She puffs a breath, looking down at the decoration on her towel. "I'm not supposed to be interested." It's a different paradigm than the one that's been presented heretofore, and one that's carefully selected. "Do you understand?" Aeaeth blows more bubbles, lifting her wings out of the water just so. « It won't stop, » the green acknowledges. « I can't make her the promises she wants. It is the only thing I can't do for her. » A pause, a discordant strum. « It is the last piece she has left, from before I found her. Losing it scares her. Not yours. It is not the same. She just can't see it. » She is distracted again when the wave comes, and it simply pushes her out of the way. « It is better to sit on islands. » Jo makes out to head back towards the canopy where the wineskin, but really, she only makes it a few steps before stopping to hear. She doesn't interrupt Yesia this time, her head turning towards her without facing her fully. Even when she asks if she understood, silence is what first meets it. Then, "Do ya honestly want to live out yer days in some hold with a miner boy? Like I should've lived out my days in Keogh, guardin' some blooded sons'n daughters?" Turning to face her, to look back at her, "Aeaeth's yer world as much as Tacuseth's mine," she says with resignation. "Fearin' the unknown...what could be'n should be...." but really, it's the last she addresses then, closing the distance between them step by step in the pause. "I understand," she states the words clearly, trying to meet her eyes. "I'm not supposed to be interested, either." Given quietly, there's a small smile for her, tentative at best before, "No more avoidin' or hidin', hm?" she gives, likely meaning literally and figuratively - and for them both. « They lose a piece of themselves cuz of us, » Tacuseth admits evenly as he tries to roll into a wave to show Aeaeth. It fails. « She will have to accept like mine had to. Only then will she be whole. Better. Ya found an island? » The waves are hard, but dragons can be distractable. "I thought Aeaeth would make my life perfect," Yesia admits carefully. "But I also thought she was going to be gold. Oh-for-two." It's all still said fondly. "I don't know if I'd be happier. I know it would be simpler, and sometimes that seems like it might be enough. Not...blueriding criminals from Keogh or nasty weyrwoman who might still ship me to Monaco, if I'm not tapped soon." Her voice lowers, sounding regretful. "I thought, after the flight, that I didn't want her anymore. I changed my mind and wanted to go home, that would fix every mistake I've made since I got here." She's steady in meeting Jo's gaze now, looking troubled for all that. "I'll think about it," is all she promises. "I'm sorry. That's all I have." « I found her, » Aeaeth says of islands. « And I took her. A small piece, the things that hold her back. She just holds them. » She is riding a wave absently, not thinking about it. It's a tiny one, comparatively, but still. « I should get her. She needs me now; she can accept later. » "Simpler," Jo echoes that word, nodding. Neutral. While the comment about Monaco gets her open interest, but she keeps her mouth shut and her gaze leveled on Yesia's. Then, considering her after she finishes, "I'm glad she Impressed ya," she says. "Glad yer there. Glad yer here. Think about it. I wouldn' ask for more, darlin'." She looks towards their dragons then before adding, "But soon...lemme make up for how I made'ja feel, in avoidin' ya. I'll even promise that it won' be anythin' shady." It's a promise, and her apology. Tacuseth leave the wave, sending a croon and comforting shadows towards Aeaeth as he sends, « Go to yers. I'll take care of mine. Maybe next time we can catch that sunset. » And at least he sends her one of the many visuals of sunsets he has seen there, like a parting gift. "Fine," Yesia says, and in the water Aeaeth croons softly and swims for shore, swift like when they hunted but with a different goal in mind. « We will watch a sunset, » she promises as she swims, not fully conscious of whether or not Tacuseth follows her. The tension in Yesia's shoulders relaxes a bit the closer her lifemate comes close. "You can have another chance. I thought, for a bit there, we might be friends. Then she had to start glowing." And thus, their problems. But then Aeaeth is there, dripping everywhere and covering herself in wet sand as she thrusts her head forward, ruining that neat little setup her lifemate made. Yesia touches her gently, frowning at her, but her attention is taken wholly. |
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