Logs:Thrown Away
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| RL Date: 6 June, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Well after Hraedhyth's flight, H'vier finds out Tayte is at the Weyr. He probably shouldn't have gone to find her. It doesn't go well. |
| Where: Tayte's Room, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 12, Turn 34 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Azaylia/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, Oliwer/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst! |
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| Tayte's Room, High Reaches Weyr The peculiar shape of this room suggests that it was unintentionally expanded, cement holding the ceiling together towards the peculiarly shaped alcove build into the back corner. It's larger than most personal quarters as a result, and though the uneven walls mean nothing sits flush, there's plenty of room for more than the usual amount of furniture. The larger lobe of the lopsided kidney shape that the room has might be considered a studio room. A large bed is tucked into the roundest part of the alcove, though there's a gap behind where the straight headboard does not meet the wall. It's piled high with furs and pillows. In this curve there's also a wardrobe, a dresser, and nightstands. Hooks extending from the ceiling over the dresser have been rigged with two layered chain-link that holds a number of bottles of alcohol of different varieties. The highest drawer in the dresser which is bizarrely the largest locks with a key. Opposite it, closer to the door, is a hearth that's had a throw rug and loveseat set in front of it, along with a few low tables. A set of shelves and a small desk sit opposite the curve of the smaller end of the room. Around the curve and into the little lobe, one finds a great change. There's color everywhere instead of the muted things in the front half. Scarves and streamers hang from little hooks installed in the ceiling, their lengths varying, and a crib is set up in the middle with two small boxes that have toys poking out of their not-quite-shut lids. There's a tall table stocked with all the tools a mother needs (well, those that are safe to be at toddler height) and a small dresser and wardrobe. The furniture is all hand-me-downs but in decent enough condition to make the occupants comfortable. It was dinnertime when the babysitter asked the elevator dragon to relay a message to Reisoth. The sitter was turning Tahvra and Yvalia over to the nighttime nannies in the caverns and hopes everything is okay. She was worried when Tayte didn't come back at the appointed time. With the message relayed from dragons to rider, H'vier dropped what he was doing to figure out what the hell was going on. Under different circumstances, Tayte might even be moved by his haste. Instead of going to pick up the girls, though, the bronzerider leaves them with the nannies in favor of finding their mother. When Reisoth assure his rider that the vintner hasn't been to their weyr, her old room is the first place H'vier thinks to look. The door is standing open when he arrives. It's either a sign that someone is at home or that someone left in a hurry. It turns out to be the former. There is Tayte, hair swept back and largely hidden by a kerchief, sleeves rolled up and wearing trousers with reinforced knees. She has a broom in hand and it looks like she's been taking apart her world, ridding it of every speck of dirt and slowly reassembling things. Now she's sweeping the space beside the bed that the rolled up rug used to occupy. It might vaguely look like she's moving out, or maybe back in. It can be so difficult to tell; the two look very much alike. H'vier stands just far enough inside to make some sort of an assessment of what might be going on. Judging by his frown, he doesn't get much. "What is going on here? I got a message from the nannies that you hadn't picked up the girls when they expected you to." Which leads to the even more appropriate question, "Why are you all here?" He doesn't sound like he's in an especially good mood, but then he's not High Reaches' Weyrleader. Again. This is sure to go fabulously. "What?" Tayte turns, and when she does, there's a bottle on the nightstand. How could it not go fabulously when Tayte's been drinking? "Oh, I must've lost track of the time." Forgotten. She turns back and sweeps her little pile of dirt and dust before crouching to sweep the pile into the dustpan before setting broom and pan aside and straightening. "I'll go for them now." Now that she's been drinking. Great parenting in action! "We came to surprise you, but you were busy." The neutrality of her voice doesn't give any specific indication that she knows with exactly what. "No. You won't. They're fine." Good luck getting past the big, grumpy bronzerider, Tayte! "What are you doing? There are people that will clean this out when you move in with me, you don't need to be bother with this." H'vier watches her, no doubt noting that she's been drinking, but he doesn't comment on that right now because he's too busy being dense. "How long have you been here? Why didn't you get a message to Reisoth? I haven't been busy for most of the day." "Since last night. I was making arrangement to come back. The new WeyrVintner keeps late hours. When I finished meeting with her, I went to surprise you, but by then Hraedhyth had risen." Tayte is going to try to slip past the big, grumpy bronzerider, though perhaps she doesn't expect much success. Once she's inevitably unsuccessful, she throws a glare up at him, her words a little more biting, "And then as I said, you were busy." Does that explain why she didn't get a message to Reisoth? And why she didn't seek him out after the flight? He stares at Tayte with slightly narrowed eyes once he's stopped her from moving past him, no doubt piecing all the little bits together that she's not explicitly saying. "You were there after the flight?" H'vier should probably look more apologetic and less angry than he does, but he doesn't just now. "Yes." The 's' is nearly a hiss. The blonde glares up at him. "So now I'm getting my room ready for me to move back into." Because clearly Tayte's not moving in with him after seeing him go off with another woman. "No," says H'vier, voice firm. "Dammit, you're moving in with me. It was a flight." Which clearly means a free pass for him on sleeping with women that aren't her. "A flight you didn't win!" Because pointing this out right now is really going to help matters, Tayte. "You have a sharding dragon. Even if you didn't know I was here, you could've come to me. But you went off with her." Does Tayte even know who she is? "How many other flights have there been, Havi, that I don't know about?" Now her voice is raised and there's anger in her expression and tone. "I am not moving in with you." 'And you can't make me!' she doesn't add it out loud, but it's there anyway. "I know sharding well I didn't win," H'vier yells back at the woman who is supposed to be his weyrmate. It's kind of a sore subject and he's not quite in the right mindset to not take it out on anyone available. "I fucked her because we both needed it. It didn't mean anything. To either of us." As for other flights, H'vier just looks at Tayte like she's being crazy and unreasonable. Things are already going so well, Tayte's clearly out to make it better by letting a hand fly to try to land a hard slap, while declaring him, "Asshole!" If he was feeling more apologetic, H'vier might let her hit him. Faranth knows he damned well deserves it. But he doesn't let that happen, catching her arm with the reflexes of a man who knows how to fight, who's looking for a fight. "And I'm sure you just ran back here to cry by yourself, right?" Little does he know, that is what she did. At first. "I know how hot you get when they go up. You probably bent over for the first dick that got in your way." It probably wouldn't hurt so much if it weren't basically true. For a moment there's only shock and hurt. Then Tayte just gets pissed. "Fuck you!" It's screamed into his-- well, chest, but she'd like it to be his face. Damn giant. She pulls against his grip while adding the vehement and ever-helpful, "I hate you!" They've known each other long enough, not trusted each other long enough, for H'vier to figure there's truth in that anger of hers. He doesn't release her immediately, rather pulling her closer and looking a little scary-angry before he's shoving her away and following. "Who was it?" He knows who it wasn't, anyway, but that doesn't seem to make much difference right now. If Tayte hadn't been drinking, maybe the stumble back wouldn't have ended in a sprawl. Well, at least the floor is clean, if very hard with the lack of rug. "Fuck!" But she must not be too hurt since she's immediately starting to scramble up, demanding, "What does that matter? Who was she?" As long as they're demanding things. H'vier doesn't look all that worried about the sprawl, which suggests just how angry he is right now. Not that he has as much right to be angry as she does. But when has that ever mattered to him? "My wingleader," he snaps back at Tayte's question like this might be the last woman on the planet she should be worried about him sleeping with. "Your wingleader?!" It's half choked before her usually pleasant alto finds a shrill unpleasant place. That distracts Tayte from inspecting the damage once she's found her feet, but tightening her hands into fists has her wincing, so most likely there's a scrape. "I'm so stupid." Can H'vier know from that one phrase that Tayte naturally assumes there was more than just this once. "Tayte, stop." H'vier steps toward her but stops himself from moving further than that, taking a breath to calm himself. "There hasn't been anyone but you." Outside of flights. And this slip up. "There is nothing going on between me and Fayla. I promise you." The look he gives her is less angry now and strangely earnest as far as his usual expressions go. "And I'm supposed to trust you now, am I?" Just because Tayte had a momentary lapse into self-loathing doesn't mean she's done being mad at H'vier. His earnest expression seems not to be helping. Her hands have found her hips now and she's back to glaring at him. "Just like I'm supposed to trust you, gorgeous." And she hasn't even told H'vier who the man is that he's so certain she was with. "That's what our whole relationship is built around, isn't it? Mutual trust?" Okay, so H'vier is being a little sarcastic. But at least he's looking at her less like he's angry and more like he'd like to re-stake his claim on her. "Right, because an old gay virgin who happened to be the first dick that got in my way is such a threat to you." Unlike Fayla who is his Wingleader among other things a very catty maybe-former-weyrmate-to-be could say about why she should be threatened. Her hands move from her hips to across her chest. "Wasn't it? You promised me this wouldn't happen. You promised me you wouldn't go off with someone else when you lost a flight. How am I supposed to trust anything you tell me now? Or before now, for that matter!" Angry Tayte is still Angry. There's probably a lot more H'vier should be taking out of everything Tayte just said. But it's the first stuff he focuses on because it's apparently that that he's having a hard time processing. "Wait, wait, wait. You let some limp-dicked cocksucker sweat all over you? An old one?" He has the gall to sound a little disgusted. "What the fuck, Tayte." "No," Tayte's pitch is a little too high to come of unaffected, "I was on top," she sweated on him, you see? Quite different. She tries to make that sound a little haughty despite the blush in her cheeks, but it doesn't work out so well. The blonde does at least manage to sound triumphant when she relates, "And he was plenty solid for me. Did you know when you were throwing it all away that I'm so hot even gay men want me?" The flight had nothing to do with it. H'vier clearly doesn't want to hear this, never mind that he asked, but even when he turns away, he turns back around to face her again with a few pacing steps. Because he can't just leave. Not yet. "I haven't thrown anything away, woman. You're still mine." Which might be why he seems to think it's okay to advance on her, trying to herd her toward the bed to ease her back against it and come down over her. She probably expected him to turn away. Maybe she even hoped he would leave. That he doesn't and in fact turns back toward her has her hands dropping to her sides and taking an involuntary step back. "I'm not!" Only there's a quaver of uncertainty in her voice. If she were sober, maybe the things she learned for bouncing rowdy bar-goers would kick in. If she were sober, maybe she would have the sense to order him out or knee him, or anything other than what happens which is exactly what he intended. Tayte at least manages to get her hands pressed against his chest as he comes down over her to push with all her comparatively weak might. "Get off!" At least this much she can think to demand, but her breath is quickened and face flushing either from encroaching fear or in twisted anticipation. Is she very surprised when H'vier doesn't just roll away and say, 'My bad?' Her hands pushing against his chest at least leave his own open to try unfastening her trousers enough to jerk them past her hips before he's reaching to try pinning down at least one of those hands out of the way. "Say it. Tell me that you're mine, Tayte." Poorly thought out indeed, Tayte. She can't get her hands down to stop him, but that that's his goal makes Tayte much less cooperative underneath him (not that she really was complicit before). She does try to pull her legs up, to get her knees under him, to do anything really that makes this more difficult for him. "I'm not!" She answers his demand defiantly. "You chose someone else. You. Not me." Because, clearly, once H'vier slept with Fayla, they were over, so Tayte wasn't technically cheating... Or something. H'vier struggles with Tayte but, after a certain point, it seems to be more than he's willing to actually force on her. With something like a frustrated growl, the bronzerider pushes away, up off of the bed. He looks like he wants to hit something but he has the sense (or the experience) not to punch one of the stone walls. "You know what? Fine. I hope you and your old fag are fucking happy together." And with that delightful commentary, H'vier is turning for the door. It was a nice vase. Beautiful, really. One of Tayte's favorites. She kept it on the nightstand. Until she launched it at H'vier's head. "Don't forget to come up from between that bitch's legs for air once in a while," she calls heatedly, "maybe you'll remember you wanted more than being her lapdog one day." She probably should've just let him go without another word. Then she's looking at the bottle on her nightstand. Why didn't she throw that instead? She sighs, her back to the door, so if he's coming back, she'll not see him coming; if he's leaving, she won't have to watch him go. A vase breaking against his head, or his back, depending on how well Tayte throws while she's not quite sober, surely has H'vier seeing all different shades or red. He turns back, though it's not to approach her again, it's just to yell, "You just worry about getting more than a pity fuck from a cocksucker." And as he turns back toward the door, it's her wardrobe on the way out that gets the physical brunt of his anger, wood splintering beneath the force of his fist. Maybe Tayte will take comfort in the fact that some of his blood stays smeared on the wood. It's not exactly a thin panel. |
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