Logs:Uninvited but not Unwelcome
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| RL Date: 19 August, 2013 |
| Who: H'vier, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte's been at Southern Weyr less than a seven. She's not settled yet, so she hasn't written to say she is. But Impatient H'viers are Impatient. |
| Where: Southern Weyr |
| When: Day 26, Month 7, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Estarra/Mentions, Jeyli/Mentions, Mikaelen/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult humor, backdated, played via gdocs. |
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| Southern Weyr The tall cliff that houses Southern Weyr overlooks the crescent-shaped cove at its base, riddled with caves often used for storage. On the headland, lush foliage and scattered trees provide shade for stone dwellings and the distinctive shapes of dragon wallows beside. Squarely in the center of this sprawl of housing is the open-sided weyrhall boasting flagstone paving all around, branching off into paths that lead across the plateau. The shallow cone of the old volcano is weather-worn, not high enough for habitation, but its sands are still warmed from beneath, providing an excellent location for Southern's golds to lay their eggs. About a mile distant lies the Hold's headland, the red sails of Southern ships often dotting the harbor.
When H'vier touches on Southern ground, Reisoth takes flight to blink back out of sight, off to wherever he might like to be that isn't here. No need to point curious minds to this place, after all. H'vier's questioning eventually leads him to Tayte's hut and he might not be overly pleased at her not being alone. But at least her company is, relatively, innocent in nature. "Tayte," is his greeting. "Is this a bad time?" Though there's something in his voice that suggests he has no intention of leaving even if it is. His voice is familiar enough to her now that she doesn't have to look before she breathes out his name, "Havi," Beat. "Hi." Ocean eyes find him, some touch of amusement briefly flitting across her face. "No, just starting to get settled in. G'herin and L'ort were just helping me get the furniture placed, but I think we're nearly done." She turns a brilliant smile on the helping hands. "Let me get that bottle I promised you." She addresses the pair before vanishing into the back room, to reappear moments later, bottle in hand. It's a small and slender thing, so it must be of very good quality to have garnered the help. She exchanges the bottle and handshakes with the young men, her thanks to them, and yet more vivacious and charming and perhaps even flirty smiles with them. Surely, she's not trying to make H'vier uncomfortable though, right? The young men are polite and warm in the chatter they answer Tayte's thanks with before making for the door, already discussing their plans for their reward for hard work as they go. "I didn't expect you." Tayte comments from where she lingers across the room, looking at the bronzerider, her arms having lightly crossed across her chest as the Southern riders took their leave. H'vier's attention is mostly on the two men rather than the woman he came here to see. He doesn't look happy that they're here and he seems intent on them knowing it, but he says nothing while things are finished up and Tayte gives them their reward. His attention only shifts directly to her when she comments while the riders are on their way out. "Funny. I've been expecting you. A note, at least, to let me know that you're settling in and doing well. But I never got anything so I thought I'd come see what's been distracting you." And here he glances toward where the muscled men, the implied distractions, took their leave. "I just got assigned a living space today." Tayte's hands throw up into the air in a gesture that is both exasperated and tolerant. "I was going to write you as soon as I finished getting moved in. My things are still at Jeyli's. Vali's just started going to the nursery here, I've just finished lining up some work to keep me busy and helpful, there was a lot to do." She doesn't tick these things off on her fingers, but the way their delivered suggests she could if she wanted too. Then, "Besides, Jeyli didn't want there to be any chance we'd be rolling around in her bed." Hence the new-to-her one in the adjoining room. "Is a seven too much to ask to get settled in?" It's likely a rhetorical question, but she's leveling an even look at the tall man anyway. All her explanation is waved off. Probably as some evidence to her pregnant condition. Surely, it's just hormones or something. H'vier moves in her direction, intent on wrapping her in his arms at least for a handful of moments. "It's a long time when seeing you is somewhat less convenient. I expected word sooner. I ought to look into getting you a firelizard, maybe. Or find a rider to keep an eye on you." One more trustworthy to him than her sister, evidently. "Anyway, I thought you came here to relax, not busy yourself with work." Tayte could feign resistance to the hug, but-- she wants it, welcomes it, slipping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. Fortunately, for H'vier, Tayte is oblivious to his reasoning behind waving off her explanations, so this moment goes unspoiled. "Well, you're here now, and as you can see, I'm fine." She certainly enjoys the closeness, but doesn't overstay her welcome, retracting her arms to pull them once more across her body, though over her stomach now, so a less defensive pose, more one of just something to do with her hands. "I did think that a firelizard might be convenient now that I don't have apprentices to run messages for me. And I am here to relax, but I've got to earn my keep, so I'm going to knit for them. Darn socks and the like. Help out with the nannies. Nothing stressful. Really, knitting counts as relaxing, and I like to feel useful in any case." H'vier doesn't try to keep her from withdrawing and he seems somewhat more relaxed than he was initially. Now that they're alone and he can see that Tayte seems to be doing well. "I'll see if I can't find someone with a clutch. But it wouldn't do much good anyway, I suppose. Not for awhile. And most of them are too stupid to live so you might not be able to train it. And you don't need two babies to deal with." Well, apparently that's settled, then, as far as H'vier is concerned. "I could pay for your keep, you know. It wouldn't be a big deal. But I understand needing to being doing something. Just... don't over exert yourself." Because knitting is so intensive! "I suppose that means I should probably be more careful with you, too." This takes on a much less innocent connotation. It's good they parted when they did because at least one of the things coming out of H'vier's mouth now would have Tayte pulling away. Actually, as he talks, she starts to get this look. Perhaps in time H'vier will be able to identify it as her 'you just had to open your mouth' look. The one that indicates he's so much prettier when he doesn't. She looks at him like that in silence, then: "H'vier," Not Havi. It's decidedly a more serious tone she's taking with him now, "I'm twenty-six turns old. I've been paving my own way in the world since I was twelve and joined the Crafthall. I've also been bartending for turns, and you may not have noticed, but I'm damn good at it. I earn more than my vintner wages in tips every turn." Which is probably how she manages to turn over her wardrobe every turn. "I'm sure to some women, you offering to pay for them would be welcomed or considered sweet, even. But I'm not a kept woman, H'vier, even if your baby is in my belly." See the line? It's right there. She's drawing it for him, verbally. "And I can find myself a firelizard too, if I'd like one." That might just be a knee-jerk reaction talking, her arms are slipping from her stomach to up over her chest, jaw set, giving him a look that-- well, probably could be interpreted as 'cute' as much as it could be 'no-nonsense'. She just has one of those faces where serious looks don't work as well as she'd like them to. "I promise," She softens a little, "That knitting will not be too taxing." And some amusement slips onto her face. "Oh, get off your gold dragon, woman. I don't care how independent you think you are. If I can help make things easier, make things healthier for you, you'd damned well better believe that I'm gonna do it. Kept woman." The last is said more quietly to himself, practically snorted. Then H'vier is moving to go look into her bedroom, giving her a stern, no-nonsense look of his own on his way. "Why don't you come in here and take off your clothes," he says with a gesture into that room like she's totally going to just jump at the chance to be naked with him. Maybe it's his way of moving on from issues of money and health. Stubborn. Yep, that's the word for the next look she gives him. "I don't have a gold dragon." Obvious. "I stood twice and didn't Impress either time." Since they're supposed to be getting to know each other. Perhaps she's taking the opportunity to share this tidbit in that spirit. "I am independent." That's said flatly, "And I don't need a damned gold dragon to be so." It's dismissive of the idea that any woman would despite the less than feminist opinions aren't terribly present in many places around Pern. She juts out her lower lip in a pout. If only she knew how this hurts her case. Of course, the fact that her weight shifts as though she's swayed by this eloquent offer that he's made her about the bedroom doesn't really do much for it either. Less when she takes steps in that direction, though she doesn't look convinced, but perhaps convinceable. "Could have fooled me," says H'vier when Tayte informs him of her lack of bigass, shiny, entitlement-inducing dragon. "Aye, your damned independence is one of the numerous things I like about you. Now get your gorgeous ass over here before I throw you over my shoulder and toss you on the bed like some common cotholder girl." He probably hasn't actually done that. Not a lot, anyway. Probably. "I didn't Impress right away, either," he says. And who's to say whether or not it's true. H'vier is a well-practiced liar. "You're probably better off. A rider during Interval is about as useful as panties on a whore." Though he may pause to think about this picture in his head for a few moments. Maybe a little too obviously to be very serious about it. Tayte smiles in spite of herself when H'vier names one quality he likes in her. Then she's laughing at his next words and moving to his side. "Was Ista the only place you stood?" She asks, before offering, "I could have stood again. Only..." She hesitates, a blush touching her cheeks, "Only when I was standing the second time at Benden, my sister was standing here. And she's younger than I am and Impressed. And I didn't want to do the same thing she did. It sort of became 'her thing' so I wanted to find something else." Maybe it's silly, but they were young, and teenagers, and sisters. "It was, yeah. I'm from the area, originally. Not the Weyr, exactly, but around. You would have made a good rider. Think I like you not being involved in any flights a lot better, though." H'vier doesn't seem to be in that big of a hurry to get her out of her clothes, evidently, but he does reach for her hand and moves them in toward the bed to at least sit down and talk rather than standing there. "So am I gonna get to meet this sister of yours or am I just that guy from Reaches that knocked you up to her?" Tayte settles on the bed, not seeming in a rush to get the clothes off either. The line of questions quite genuinely hold her interest, even if it was his bedroom charms that convinced her to come set down. Her eyes sliding closed for a moment. "I can picture it. Havier from Ista. Was it a big place you grew up? Or small?" She doesn't open her eyes, asking for more details to paint the picture more clearly. The only thing that provides distraction is when she has to open one eye to peer at him. "Do you want to meet her? And if you do, do you promise not to hit on her?" She might be serious, but there is a subtle curve to her lip that suggests some humor (even if it's humor based in seriousness). "Not big." But not small, either, evidently. "But I ended up at the Weyr pretty young. So I'm not sure which you'd say is actually where I grew up." Some might say he has yet to grow up. H'vier moves a hand to her thigh while her eyes are closed, watching her curiously. Until she opens one to look at him. "Why do you think I'd hit on your sister?" H'vier makes it sound like that's one of the most ridiculous things he's ever heard. Which probably means it could happen. "I'm not gonna hit on anyone. Least of all your sister. But if you don't want me to meet her, I suppose I'll understand. You don't want her hitting on me, after all." "Because," The second eye opens to join the first, "You might not remember but I watched you drink at the Sand Bar and pick up women for three turns while I tended bar. And I might not remember any specific sisterly instances, but I'm sorry," She's not, "I wouldn't put it past you. My blood father apparently breeds good looking women." That's another thing. "Did I ever tell you I was fostered? That I'm a flight baby from Igen?" Tayte slips her hand down to trail fingers lightly across the back of his hand. "And Jeyli is my half-sister. You can meet her. But I don't make any promise that she doesn't hit you if you say something hazardous to your health. I'm not worried about her hitting on you so long as she knows who you are. We have a previously established agreement not to cross bedroom paths." No sister sets allowed. "It's not a very clear memory, no. I do remember you tending bar. I remember you being off limits, mostly." Which says a lot to how he thinks, probably. H'vier continues, though, "I've been with sisters. That was... nice." He probably would have had a different adjective for that if he didn't remember the whole trying to actually be with the woman he's sitting with. When Tayte mentions her lineage, H'vier shakes his head, grinning. "Igen, huh? I'm not sure this is gonna work out, gorgeous. Though being fostered is better than some alternatives." His grin falters for a moment, but then he's standing up and working on getting rid of his shirt to leave him bare from the waist up. "No sharing? Such a shame." "That's accurate. I was off limits." Tayte's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. She does roll her eyes at his talk of his experience with sisters. But, with the stories that floated about her before she became off limits, it's a fair bet that she might've had her fair share of brothers, or brother-sister, or maybe even sisters if H'vier's imagination gets creative. So it's a tolerant roll of the eyes. The kettle doesn't feel the need to point out to the pot that it's black just now. "Wassamatter?" Tayte slurs the phrase together as one spoiling for a fight might, a few drinks in, "Can't handle me having heat in my blood?" She teases lightly, rising up off the bed herself now, a hand reaching out to trail down his arm once he has the shirt off. She doesn't draw near though, instead staying just within arm's reach. "I was fostered to Bitra before I was weaned if that helps." Although there's plenty who'd consider Bitran-raising another black mark. Bitrans do have a reputation. She lets her voice drop to a sultry version of her smooth alto, "If you'd wanted to share, you shouldn't've put all these ideas about just being with you in my head." Another trail of her hand, retracing the path it traveled before starting to pull away. "I think I can handle that just fine," H'vier points out, watching her as she rises and touches his arm, tensing in the way that suggests he could be ready to pounce. In a manner of speaking. The same way that he's only a predator in certain senses of the word. "A well-traveled woman. Just the sort I like. There's a bar in Bitra I used to go to fairly often." Probably not a very nice bar, considering the bronzerider's tastes in fun. He shifts toward her, reaching out to try catching her arm before her hand gets too far away. "We could still share. With a woman. And us. Together. Not your sister. But someone." "Maybe for your turnday," Tayte says with a laugh, "Or as a reward if you ever go a month without saying a single thing that offends a woman..." She certainly allows her arm to be caught and even steps nearer him, "Or maybe as a reward for making it through... say, six months of monogamy?" Each of the suggestions is delivered thoughtfully, as though she's putting a lot into thinking of the things that might deserve the reward of a threesome. "That is, if I can stand sharing you once I get used to not." She observes with some amount of amusement. By now, she's on tiptoe, her chin tilted up, an obvious invitation for a kiss (or kisses). |
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