Logs:Too High
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| RL Date: 23 October, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Jadzia |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jadzia invites herself by. G'laer isn't decent for company (but don't worry, he's wearing pants). |
| Where: Gardener's Delight Weyr (G'laer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 1, Turn 36 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Oliwer/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst. Back-dated. |
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| Teisyth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr Previous occupants of this ledge must have been of the smaller variety, because although the smoothed stone is expansive, much of it has been repurposed - leaving only a narrow, if sunny, patch for dragons to land on. On either side, extending towards narrowed edges, extra stonework has been put in place to create long, herbaceous garden beds, curling and twisting into artistic patterns that must, from above, look truly spectacular. For now, however, most of the plants are untended: weeds grow through cracks in the edgings, dead plants and leaves littering the outcrops and scattering across the rest of the ledge. The wide entranceway leads inwards towards the generously sized dragon couch, with a narrower stone path that winds towards a more human-sized cavern. Gardener's Delight Weyr, High Reaches Weyr Bubble-shaped, with walls that are not quite straight or flat, this inner weyr is made up of only a single cavern, albeit a decently-sized one. Once upon a time, there must have been a curtain strung up in here, separating the front area from the back, for the hooks are still visible in the ceiling above. For now, however, there's only a long-abandoned bed in the far corner, and two rather dilapidated wooden chairs scattered towards the front. Jadzia, perhaps surprisingly, tries to make a point of not keeping track of G'laer's relationship with his weyrmate. Ex-weyrmate? Exactly. It's just easier that way. But since he's been more or less avoiding her since their last visit and he'd given her some pretty significant news at the time, she's had the nagging urge to check up on him. Stupid feelings. When she tries to drop in for an unannounced visit, however, the weyrling finds his weyr... well, not his weyr. It takes Teisyth's kind hospitality to get Savroveth pointed in the right direction and, soon enough, the brown pair is landing on the green's interesting new ledge. While Savroveth chats up Teisyth about her new pad, Jadzia will help herself to wandering inside to give herself a tour. Teisyth isn't the only one surprised by Jadzia's presence. Did Savroveth mention she was coming? Well, the green wouldn't turn away a guest, so G'laer gets only the warning from the time the brown arrives to the time his rider appears in the bubble cavern. He's working on the laces of his pants because unlike some bronzeriders who only think they should walk around naked more often, he, apparently, does when left to his own devices. The only thing familiar about the space to what was in his old place is the rug in front of the hearth and the teacup lying there empty next to the kettle. It probably explains the way he turns and finds her with his eyes and says, "Hi," quite dumbly. He is hiiiiiiiiiiigh. Fortunately for G'laer, Jadzia seems more interested in his new place than the fact that he might have been lounging around naked a few moments ago. "Hey," she returns, turning her gaze on him only once she's finished her survey. "You got your own weyr." It's sort of a question, but possibly not one she's really sure she wants to ask. Because having a weyr devoid of his weyrmate can only mean so many things. "It looks-- it suits you. The stuff outside, especially." G'laer's brows furrow as though he's having trouble making out the meaning in her words. "I-- yes." He looks around at the as yet still crated and bagged possessions, only having unpacked the minimum thus far. "He left me. I left him. We-- it didn't work out." He says stupidly then, "Sorry. I wasn't expecting--" which is why he's this high. "What are you doing here?" It's not really accusatory, just perplexed as one hand moves to scratch idly at his stomach. That seems to remind him he's not wearing a shirt and turns to delve into the bag from whence his pants came to see if he can find one. "You don't need to get dressed on my account." Jadzia won't stop him, either, but it's not like she minds looking at his bare chest if he's a mind to keep it bare. "You've been avoiding me." That is accusatory, but not unkindly so. She's been worried or something, maybe. "So I thought I'd come see how you were doing. Not good, I'm guessing." She helps herself to some surface, whether it's his bed or a chair, because she has no intention of leaving right away. "You should find better outlets. That," she gestures toward his kettle, "makes you slow." "I don't need to be fast right now." Arguably, G'laer's the sort of man who makes enemies and therefore might need to be fast at a moment's notice. But perhaps because it takes a dragon to get up here, he's lulled himself into some semblance of security. Since she doesn't care about the shirt, neither does he and he stops looking. "And you're one to talk. Had a drink yet today, Jadzi?" He asks it with a pointed quality that, even in this state, might get him labeled an asshole. Lest she try to go though, he moves toward her. "Life sucks, then you die. That's the way it works, right?" See? He's trying to see the bright side! "Even I could take you right now," challenges Jadzia before she's offering a predictable, "Fuck you." At least she doesn't go searching for the flask that's probably in her jacket as they speak. She will start to shrug out of it, though, so that means she's not getting up to leave as he moves toward her. "That's the way it works. And sometimes life sucks and you die inside long before you get to die for real." So inspiring, Jadz. The grunt G'laer gives is agreement. Whether to the idea that she could take him now or her cheerful augmentations to his sentiment. The chairs-- well, they're in a state of 'sit-at-your-own-peril,' so the bed likely seemed the better option for Jadzia. He has, at least, done something with that - there are sheets, even! Perhaps that was part of the necessary. He looks at her, but seems not to know what to say so just moves to sit beside her, staring at his fingers where they loosely interlace between his thighs. Possibly, this lack of knowing what to say, is the root of the avoidance. He doesn't usually avoid people. That's okay. Jadzia isn't high. Or probably (visibly) drunk. She can do plenty of talking. "I don't know what you're going through, G'laer. It's been forever since I've lost anyone important to me." In part because there hasn't been anyone since the last one. "And I've never lost someone I've chosen to love." Possibly because she's never really loved anyone like that. Except for sort of maybe the greenrider himself. Even then, definitely not the same. "But you aren't alone. You don't have to deal with anything alone, if you don't want to." She probably doesn't count dragons in this instance. Even if she might were she in his position. "Is this my pep talk?" G'laer queries sounding less like a smart-ass and more genuinely a little confused. "If it is, you're sort of shit at it." He assesses. "But thanks." He'll apparently take what he can get. "Turns out being a murdering son of a bitch isn't the kind of thing someone looks for in a weyrmate." This, as much as the assessment, seems a simple, candid evaluation. "It sucks." He adds, in case the former statement was lacking in feelz. Thankfully, he might not be sure she's really there or there might be less feelz being allowed out to play. Maybe she's going to need that flask, after all. Jadzia searches through her lump of a jacket after she's pulled her legs up to cross them one over the other. "I'm what you get, so shit it is," she tells the greenrider once she's found her flask and opened it up to take a quick drink. "You should probably just find someone who's okay with you being a murdering son of a bitch from the start." Which is clearly a simple task to do with people who are typically strangers from the start. "And I'd throw in that you're a self-absorbed, emotionally retarded asshole while you're at it. Lay out all your shit up front." Is this supposed to be helpful? "Naming all the things that made you fall for me? That's sweet." G'laer quips, but then frowns. "You're right. I shouldn't be with anyone. Was stupid of me to think I could be good enough, different enough. Dragons don't change their colors for anything." He reaches for her flask because mixing alcohol with whatever he's on already is a great idea. "Thanks." He sounds genuine. Is that the perspective she wanted him to have? Jadzia grins wryly at the first but doesn't deny it, even if it's not true. "I must be as big of an idiot as you are. But I didn't mean that. There are people that don't care about it that much. They might even want to make it a date. It could be romantic, washing blood off your hands in the moonlight." She's probably joking, but the gist is genuine enough. "No," she says about the flask. She's not handing that over. "You're fucked up enough." "Nah," G'laer says after a moment of consideration before flopping back on the bed, apparently not too put out about the lack of alcohol, "swearing off relationships sounds good." He stares at the ceiling. "Better. Safer that way." None of this stupid heartache stuff. "I think I need more tea," he starts to sit up; he must be feeling that heartache again. She watches him for a few quiet moments, chewing on the inside of her cheek, as she sets the flask down out of reach. Then Jadzia is moving, pressing a hand against his shoulder to keep him down and brace herself as she shifts to straddle his waist. "You must be getting old to resign yourself to safety, G'laer. But that won't keep you safe." She has first hand experience, having sworn off relationships before ever being in one and still having to deal with heartache. This right here is part of why Jadzia could definitely take him in a fight. He's pretty docile at the moment. He doesn't resist the hand nor the straddling though he does furrow his brow and look up at her as if he might just be trying to make sense of what he's seeing from this new vantage point. "Hm. Maybe you're right. Maybe I ought to go win him back, hm?" Brows lift even as he makes the hm noise a few more times. It's fun, see? Fortunately for G'laer, Jadzia doesn't seem to have anything particularly untoward in mind now that she's claimed this new spot. Not for now, anyway. It's not like he'd probably be much good on that stuff anyway, right now. She shifts her hips back just enough so she can lay down against him, arms crossing and chin coming down on her hands. "Would that make you happy? You didn't seem very happy. You said you didn't want to be with him anymore." "Only because I couldn't be myself with him and I was tired of pretending. And because my gran died." G'laer answers back in a tone that suggests they might be squabbling as he tilts his head so his chin nearly touches his throat so he can look at her. "But maybe now that it's all out in the open and he hates me, I can make him love me again, for real." No, no, that's clearly crazy talk. But he's giving it some thought anyway. "I'm not going to let you make important decisions while you're high. But I think that's a stupid idea. Even for you." Jadzia doesn't move except for the hand she shifts to pat him gently on his cheek. "Anyway, I don't think that man is the sort to hate anyone." Is it weird that she knows even that much about him? No doubt she's run into him in the infirmary. "What is it about him that you like so much?" It's genuine curiosity. And maybe testing to see just how much he'll say like this. "What's not to like?" G'laer wants to know, not doing more than turning his head too late to bite at the air where her fingers were. It probably is a joke anyway. "He's kind and considerate, loving and loyal. He's a damned good lay, too, as it happens. And I like his smile. It makes me feel." He doesn't specify, but isn't the last word enough to explain? He doesn't seem to be holding much back. If Jadzia wants to ask him things that are normally forbidden, now's the time. If she has any opinions on his answer, she doesn't say them out loud. There's a difference between wanting to ask questions and actually wanting to know the answers to those questions. But Jadzia must not be quite sure where she's drawing that line in the sand right now because she asks, "Do you ever think about us? What it would be like if we were together?" "Yeah." Is now the moment when G'laer clams up? That would be how it goes with them, right? But no, this time Jadzia gets her answer. "It's why I've been avoiding you. If we were ever going to be together, I'd want it to happen well clear of this mess. And first I'd have to be not broken. Broken doesn't make for a very good partner. Not any more than murderous." He laughs then, it's not a happy sound, and he lets his head tip back to look at the ceiling again. That's a nice thought, really. Except, "You want to fix things with him." It doesn't sound accusatory or anything. Just a fact. Maybe a little resigned. But Jadzia has been that way about basically everything relating to she and G'laer for awhile now. "You aren't broken. Just kind of bruised up." She'll try to not poke at those bruises too much, no matter how tempting it might be. The small smile she gives him doesn't look any happier than his laugh sounds, but maybe he won't see it anyway. She starts to sit up and shift off of him. That must mean she's decided he can stay as high as he wants. But maybe it also means it's time for her to go. "Jadzi," G'laer reaches for her, clumsily, but he doesn't, apparently, want it to be time for her to go. "That's exactly why I said I wanted to get clear of this. I've never been good at stopping loving people once I start." Which might explain why he's been how he's been with her even with a weyrmate. "I'm trying." And failing. "But I didn't want you messed up in it." His brow furrows. "I don't think it's fixable. There's nothing to fix. He loves a man that doesn't exist." A look to the brownrider suggests that maybe, just possibly, she does too. It makes Jadzia pause, sitting up over his hips and looking down at him. "I'm already messed up in it, G'laer. I have been ever since you brought back that stupid picture." She's probably not upset that she's been messed up in it since then, though. At times, certainly, but not overall. "What man do you think he loves? What man do you think I--" She doesn't say love. But maybe not because it isn't true. "He loves a bad man trying to be good. You, a bad man," G'laer is looking at her like maybe the trip is starting to head toward an end, or at least lightening to more usual levels of high. "And I'm worse. No one loves a nightmare," that might be some amount of ego showing through and less fact, but then again... "Do you want me to sleep with you? Is that what you want?" He asks it with a furrowed brow and a narrowed look as he takes in her expression like he's really trying to riddle out what she really wants from him. "It's just you." Jadzia says it with a small, frustrated sigh. It's not a bad man that she loves. It's definitely not a bad man trying to be good. Or a man that might be a nightmare. Just G'laer as he is. "I've wanted that for as long as I've known you. But not like this." Not with him high. And heartbroken. Probably mostly high. "What do you want me to want?" It might be kind of a girly question but Jadzia seems serious about him answering it. "Just me." It's not an echo, it's an answer. "Only I'm not sure you-- or anyone see me." There's another pause in which G'laer looks at her intently. The tea is definitely starting to wear off, though there was a lot so... "And it would be better if you didn't. That's why I've never--" He gestures between them. Whatever that means. Maybe in that intent look G'laer will start to see the anger behind Jadzia's eyes, then tension of restraint in her jaw. See how she's not hitting him? That might be preferable over what she says, though, leaning forward with one hand pressed against the bed beside his head so she can really look him in the eye. "I see you just sharding fine, G'laer. You're a fucking idiot too wrapped up in guilt and feeling sorry for yourself that you can't see past your own fucking nose. Maybe you should just go between and save everyone the trouble of having to care about you, huh?" G'laer's answer might be disappointingly quiet. "Is that what you want me to do?" His blue eyes are locked with hers; they have that 'knowing' quality that must have been infuriating every time she was sent to his office for a dressing-down when she was a cadet. Jadzia's voice is quiet, still restrained, and no less angry. "It's a fine fucking time to act like you give a fuck about what anyone but you wants." Which is, presumably, to be miserable. Rather than hold his gaze, though, the brownrider shoves away from him with something like a growl. G'laer reaches after the brownrider. His reflexes are still slow, but he's aiming for -- the back of her neck maybe? Her hand pushes his away as she shifts free, reaching for her flask on her way to her feet. Jadzia's jacket is left on the bed, though, so maybe her intention isn't to leave quite yet. She paces out of arm's reach and turns back to look at him as she takes a long drink. The greenrider stays where he is, eyes directed to the ceiling, thwarted hand falling back to his stomach. Maybe he expects her to go. It might raise the question of who he's talking to when he muses quietly, "The timing's never right, is it." It's not really a question. "Fuck sharding timing," says Jadzia, who is definitely still here, with a touch of anger still in her voice. Possibly not directed quite so intensely at the greenrider now. She takes another drink before her flask is tossed aside and she's suddenly close enough again to rub her hands meaningfully up his thighs. There's not a lot of room for argument as she tells him, "I'm going to fuck you, G'laer. Right now. And we're going to enjoy it." Got it? G'laer couldn't argue if he wanted to. In the instant between the last of his words and the first of hers, his bender took a turn, toward sleep. His eyes are closed, body relaxed save for his fingertips which twitch a little. As for the response of anything else? Well, this seems to be the sort of sleep where everything is asleep. Passed out. Timing. He should probably count himself lucky that Jadzia cares about him at all. Because when she realizes that he's passed out, there's something murderous in those already angry eyes. "I really hate you sometimes," she tells him in a voice that sounds a lot more calm than she looks. She even glances at his pillows. But, no. She won't smother him in his sleep. She won't even beat on him a little bit. Jadzia straightens and probably seriously considers leaving him like this. But instead she goes to pour herself some tea of her own and she'll at least make sure he doesn't drown in his own spit or something before he regains consciousness. |
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