Logs:There's always a morning after
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| RL Date: 4 June, 2013 |
| Who: K'del, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: This one, the morning after Tayte's turnday celebration, involves the consequences of drinking too much. |
| Where: Lights in Darkness Weyr (K'del's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 12, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Flurries with chill wind. |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated and played over googledocs. Follows Logs: Tayte's 26th Turnday. |
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| Lights in Darkness Weyr, High Reaches Weyr A heavy, brocade curtain separates the ledge from the weyr within, which opens up into a long, wide wallow and a walkway beside it. There's easily enough room for a bronze in here; the ceiling is high enough that sound tends to echo. Down the wall beside the walkway, small circles appear to float within the dim light like miniature moons; a high panel of them that's perhaps four or five times as long as a man is tall. They end abruptly as the wall curves around and opens out into the rest of the weyr. It's a good sized weyr, and laid out nicely with a fine collection of solid, expensive furniture. A niche off to one side offers built-in shelving and a desk set out beneath it, while much of the rest of the space has been taken up by a couch and several chairs, laid out in front of the hearth. It's reflective, that hearth, made up of squares tiled on point, many of which look very new indeed. To one side of that is a dark opening that might be another niche, or perhaps a passageway. A tunnel leads off from that dark opening - narrow, if still tall. It turns a corner and then opens out into an expansive room set against the other side of the hearth. Most of /this/ space is taken up by a bed that has clearly been made to fit the space exactly, although there's still room to step around to another niche - this one with a plugged basin above and a drain below. There are more of those moons here, too: moons that glow with light from the room beyond.
Drunk makes people do a lot of crazy things. But there are some necessities that lack of sobriety makes little difference with. One of those necessities was Tayte making sure her gown was properly hung up before they hit the furs. She probably took a laughable amount of time fussing over it hanging just right so it wouldn't wrinkle, already comfortably dressed in one of K'del's tunics. So wearing only that and her undergarments, she went to bed, so when the bronzerider's leg starts to shift where it's tangled with her own bare ones, its enough of a strange (to her) sensation for Tayte to jerk slightly, blinking her eyes as she processes her own confusion as to where she is, what's going on, and who's bed she's in. Surely, with the confessions of her party-girl wild days that happened as much laughter and stories were exchanged in the night, it's not an unfamiliar scenario, even if it's many turns removed from the last happening. She's mostly on her stomach, though partially on his, her side pressed along his, her chin having been upon his shoulder until moments ago. Her hands find their way to where she can press herself, up enough to look down at him and enough of the pieces of the puzzle come together. She's pleasantly disheveled from the dancing and drinking and cuddling. "Shells," says K'del, in a tone that's still husky with recent sleep, and only a little bit pained from the sheer quantity of alcohol that was imbibed the night before. "Sorry; didn't mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep, if you want. I'll get the fire back up, maybe make some klah. Or do you want some water?" Mornings after don't seem to faze him, much: if he's remembered anything about their activities that he might regret, he's certainly not showing it. Instead, as he frees one arm, he uses it to tuck some hair behind her ear, and add. "Morning. Also." Tayte is not a morning person. It shows in the way that she keeps blinking at him, eyes a little squinty and the way that her movements as she twists to look around the room in the relative dimness and back to him in time for him to tuck an errant strand for her. That much prompts a sleepy smile from her. "Morning," she manages then, "Water would be nice." She shifts more then, though not completely moving away, more just re-adjusting. "I have the stuff to make sunrise specials in my basket. It's my hangover mix." The quietness of her voice is what gives away the state most. Before he can leave the bed though, she's snuggling up close again, this time having rolled to press her back against his side, stealing the arm he'd only just free to wrap it back around her, under her neck and across the front of her shoulders, like one might a blanket. "Do you have to get up?" This question, too, is delivered quietly, but has a tone of complaint. It's winter in the High Reaches, and though the passage of hours hasn't turned the weyr icy, it's definitely more comfortable in bed than out of it; K'del's easily drawn in to Tayte's encouragements, and seems, all of a sudden, a lot less eager to get out of bed. Only; "Kinda need to pee." Which sounds horribly regretful, but not in an embarrassed way: it's a natural bodily function, especially given how much they drank last night. "But I can come back again afterwards." It's early. There's no real need to get up yet, right? The regret in his tone has Tayte laughing, though this does two things: it reminds her that she used those laugh muscles a lot last night and they're sore, and that laughter is too loud for her current level of hung over. So the laughter ends in a groan as she rolls away from him. "Fine, fine. You pee. I'll make the drinks, then take my turn," It's not as if women have immunity to natural bodily functions, "Then we'll meet back here, deal?" And before he's agreed she's slipping out the opposite side of the bed, hissing softly as her feet touch the floor and thereafter pushes up onto her toes so less of her feet have to contact the cold surface. It makes for a funny little prance as she makes her way back to the main room to mix up the drinks. Without Tayte's body heat to keep him warm, the bed isn't quite as enticing (though it's still got to be warmer than the outside), and those bodily functions are, well, becoming a little pressing. Thus, a moment later finds K'del crawling out of bed and hunting down the chamber pot to sort out that particular need. Having done so, he'll even head to the hearth to build the fire up again, coaxing some brighter flames, and adding wood to keep them happy. By the time that is done, he's definitely more than ready to be back under the furs-- which is where he will be, a few moments later. "Brr," he announces. And, "My head hurts. How much did we drink last night?" By the time he's stoking the fire, she's back with the drinks which she leaves before tending to her own necessities. Her rejoinder with him in the bed is therefore not long after he's crawled in. "More than we should have." Tayte provides the obvious answer. "It's a good thing turndays only come once a turn per person." She plucks up the glasses handing one over. The liquid within is yellow with a fancy red swirl. "This has just enough alcohol in it to take the edge off, and make it a smooth recovery, with some other things that help with hydration." She informs as she offers it to him, "Tastes pretty good, too. But better when I make it fresh in a bar." Hers is downed swiftly and the glass set aside in order to get back to the business of snuggling and being warm all the sooner. "No wonder my head--" But at least he didn't throw up in the chamber pot, right? K'del just gives Tayte a rueful smile, then downs his own glassful of her magical restorative. "Not that I regret any of it. 'm glad you chose to come spend it with me." His empty glass gets set down on one of the side-tables, and then he joins her: winter mornings, especially hungover ones, are much better spent with someone to share body heat with. Also, naps. |
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