Logs:V'ret's Girl?
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| RL Date: 16 December, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, P'tras, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lys and P'tras are having a perfectly pleasant conversation (read: awkward), when V'ret comes along to make it awkward (read: more awkward). |
| Where: Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: Some adult themes. |
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>---< Snowasis, High Reaches Weyr(#555RJ) >----------------------------------<
The Snowasis is rarely quiet, and even then, the high-ceilinged former
weyr is kept from echoing by the fantastical booths tucked into its
convoluted perimeter. The secluded seating spaces have been shaped from
the truncated stalagmites that escaped the smoothing of the main floor,
and are both softened and separated by colorful hangings that are thick
and opaque enough to make each corner its own private nook.
Some of the smaller stalactites still roam the ceiling, their jagged teeth
tracing a bumpy, inverted spine to the hearth. There, a thick rug with a
low klah table and comfortable armchairs and couches sit, their upholstery
and cushions changed sporadically to match the season: bright, light
colors in the summer, fresh greens and yellows in the spring, warm
autumnals in fall, and clear, rich hues for winter. Small tables litter
the rest of the cavern, enough to fit up to four people each, while stools
stand along the smooth wooden bar behind which is the passthrough window
to the kitchen. Glass-paneled cabinetry behind the bar provides a clear
view of the available liquors, the many colors reflecting the soft light
of glows tucked into strategic niches around the cavern.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s
P'tras M 20 6'0 lean, curly brown hair, green eyes 1m
V'ret M 20 6'2" fit, brown hair, blue eyes 5m There's a slight lull in the bar at this time of day, especially when it's so nice outside. Some might say it's too early to be drinking, but P'tras, obviously, would disagree. He's sitting near the hearth, claiming one of the armchairs around the klah table. He has a skin of not-the-most-expensive wine, and a glass so he can pretend he's not just drinking directly from the skin. The sketchpad in his lap would suggest some sort of work, or at least some level of vague productivity, but mostly he's just scribbling little designs with an occasionally crude rendition of various forms of nudity. It's probably because there's a lull that Lys consented to be here at all at this time of the afternoon. With hair still damp from the baths and an armful of papers (as usual), she makes her way into the bar, eyes scanning. Whoever she was looking for doesn't seem to be here for in the end, she moves toward the hearth, perhaps not initially noticing Pip's position there since her greeting is, "Oh, hey," after she's sat and set her paper on her thighs. He's focused enough on his doodling that it's only the other greenrider's familiar voice that pulls P'tras' gaze up from what he's doing. He stares at her for a moment, processing, then has a delayed smile as an arm moves reflexively over the scribbling. Shame, P'tras! "Hey. What's-- how're you?" Lys might not have noticed that there might be something out of the ordinary (and really, it might not be for P'tras, but Lys doesn't know him so well, so he's left victim to her assumptions). The truncated question makes her pause in her paper shuffling to give him a look, brows raised, question there but not spoken. "I'm fine," is a little drawn out, wary, like there might be-- something going on that she's missing. "How are you?" Also wary. If there's anything out of the ordinary, P'tras doesn't seem to think so. He's relaxed, especially compared to their last encounter, and he seems pleased with the company. Possibly her company in particular. "I'm great." Buzzed, but great. He watches her for a few more seconds, like he's not sure if he wants to say anything else, then slouches down slightly and returns his attention to his doodling. "So," is out of nowhere and some moments after Lys' suspicious contemplation of the male greenrider's behavior has finished. "If I made you an embroidered sachet for your sock drawer, would you use it? Or is that the kind of thing that boys just don't even if it's given to them?" She keeps her tone conversational, her eyes on her hides as she starts separating out those that seem to need her attention first. Green eyes pop back up to look at Lys, but now it's P'tras who looks suspicious. "Why would you make me a sachet?" He shifts his head slightly toward his armpit, since it's more subtle than smelling his feet, to take a quick whiff even as he asks, "Do I smell that bad?" That's the only reason a girl would want to give a guy something to make his clothes smell better, obviously! "Because I forgot to tell you embroidery is among my tradeable skills and I wanted to make you something," in return for the boots, no doubt, but Lys doesn't specify. "I was trying to think of things you might not already have, and everyone can use a sachet for their sock drawer no matter who they are." It's universal, apparently. Though she does reconsider with, "Unless you don't have a sock drawer," which could prove problematic to her idea. She frowns. "You don't have to make me anything." It's a quick response for Lys' suggestion, because maybe she hadn't already realized that. "I have a sock and underwear drawer. But you still don't need to make anything. Not sure how I'd feel about something you spent time on being so close to my underwear, anyway." P'tras looks at the skin and his half-drank glass. "Do you want some wine? I can get you another glass. Or you can have that one." "I want to make you something, that was just the simplest something I could think of." Lys tells him with a roll of her eyes. "What else could I make you?" She thinks (apparently not deterred). "I maybe could embroider something on some soft leather for one of your pieces. I'm not great, but it might sell for more?" She looks to the wine, the papers, then sighs as if somehow defeated by that argument alone. "Sure." Why not. "If you made me anything, I sure as shards wouldn't sell it. I'd probably put it on the mantle of my hearth or something." P'tras is firm about that, but probably doesn't realize it could sound creepy. When she agrees to wine, he rises to his feet, inadvertently putting his shameful sketchpad down on the table in plain view of the weyrling, and says, "I'll get another glass. Don't leave." He's only gone long enough to get said glass, but he only hands it to her empty so she can pour as much from the skin as she likes. "If I made you a sachet," Lys counters with a stubborn look, "you'd put it in your sock drawer, where it belongs." Duh. By the time he comes back, she has his sketchpad, of course, and is gingerly flipping through drawings. She keeps one hand firmly on the book (lest he try to take it) while she accepts the glass and sets it aside. Drink is coming in second to perusing the 'art.' Considering P'tras doesn't even realize she's looking at his sketches until she sets the glass aside, he's not in a great position to try grabbing it away from her. Instead, "Shells. Don't look at that. Please." There's a pleading emphasis on the last word. Fortunately (?), the whole thing isn't horrible. There are some actual sketches related to his work, designs for pieces of leatherwork and the like, but there's more than enough dirty doodles to make him uncomfortable with her perusal, even with his happy little buzz. "Why?" Lys asks pointedly, looking up, pausing in her perusal at least. "How do you know this is not my kind of thing?" She asks with a tip of her head to indicate the drawings. There might be a slight blush to her cheeks but the rest of her expression gives nothing away. "I still wouldn't want you looking at it," he says. "They aren't even that good." But, "Is it your thing?" P'tras is dubious, sure, but he can't be held accountable for his curiosity. "It's just something I do when I can't think of work stuff. I'm not some weird pervert." He's just a normal pervert. An equal opportunity pervert, even. There's almost as many guy bits as girl bits in there. "No," it's not her thing. Lys flips back to the page he was on and offers him the pad before reaching for the wineskin to fill her glass with a regular 'glass of wine' serving. She offers the skin back to him. "Thanks for sharing," she means that, taking a sip, but she makes a little face, so maybe she's not so thankful in hindsight. "Everyone has something they do when they can't think. I used to braid my hair." Only, now it's chopped off, so so much for that, thanks weyrlinghood. P'tras takes the pad and closes it, despite her giving it back to him where he'd left off. He shifts to the side in his seat to put it under one of his legs where it's safe. So long as he doesn't leave it unattended again. "Drinking helps sometimes, too," he says, using the skin she handed back to him to top off his glass. Definitely not regular glass of wine serving here. "What do you do now?" Lys' blue-green gaze tracks the pad to where it is tucked, 'safely,' and then flicks her eyes up to P'tras' face. "Talk to Evy, mostly. Do fun things together. Sometimes those things are oiling. Sometimes they're other things." She shrugs her shoulders, sipping at the wine as she leans back into her seat, slouching down so low she's practically lying back (as much as the seat allows for still supporting her hips). P'tras is sitting at one of the armchairs near the hearth, a sketchpad tucked under his leg, a full glass of wine in his hand and a wineskin on the low klah table in front of him. Lys is nearby with her own glass of wine, and the male greenrider is looking at her while she talks. His somewhat lame response, "Ri isn't much of a talker. We do talk, I mean. But she's not always great at getting my mind off things." Lys, slouched as low as her seat on the end of the couch nearest P'tras will allow, papers balanced on her knees and wine glass in her hand, nursed with tiny sips because the slouching makes it a little awkward of an angle. "So you need to sketch naked people," Lys fills in for him, eyes flicking to the pad stowed under P'tras' leg, again. "You cut those into leather and you might have a business, you know." That's light and yet not at the same time. The first stop for V'ret on his arrival is the bar. There's some chit-chat with the bartender, probably an acquaintance, especially since at this hour it's not so busy as to be overly distracting. At some point, with his beer still mostly full, he turns out to the rest of the bar, skimming for familiar faces. And that's how he ends up settling on the couch next to Lys, although not at a proximity beyond that which might be accorded a friend and fellow weyrling. "Am I late?" he asks of her before it seems to register that she's having a conversation. "Oh, hey--" Pause, on noting P'tras. "Ah, hi." "I don't need to sketch naked--" P'tras stops when V'ret sits down near Lys, green eyes moving from one weyrling to the other. "Hey," is his greeting for the bronzerider. He glances at Lys again, some unspoken question there, then takes a healthy gulp of his wine. Gotta keep that buzz going. "I don't think anyone wants that," he finishes for the other greenrider. "So just for fun then?" Lys' focus barely shifts from P'tras as V'ret joins them, probably because she's in the midst of a good needling, so she lets her narrowed gaze linger a moment. Then when she looks to V'ret, it's with an entirely different demeanor, and a nice smile. "Hi. You're late, but I'll forgive you if you do two extra of these," 'these' prove to be the easy sort of check the box weyrling assessments that are pulled from the top of her pile of hides as she sits up a bit and tries to give them to V'ret before he has time to question just what kind of extra work she's giving him. "Do you know Pip?" She's looking to either man for that answer. "Sure, I--" V'ret isn't really looking at what he's accepting to do. Trusting soul, evidently. Just a glance at them, then a look across at the other young man. "Pip? Yes. We've met. Other night. Had a few drinks here. I didn't know you two were friendly." He omits the whole business with the underwear, among other things. The bronze weyrling has a sip from his glass and relaxes back, arm across the couch behind Lys. "No..." P'tras starts, then gives up without much of a fight. He probably doesn't want to get into a more in depth discussion about drawing genitalia. Not now that they have company. "I wouldn't say he knows me," adds the greenrider to V'ret's comments. "But he was nice enough to help me get home." He says it while he looks at the other young man, but then he's looking down at his wine. "Pip made me those really awesome new boots I've been wearing in the evenings," to break them in. Lys sips her drink, so casually just after adding, "I must've told you," no, but it's a pretty smooth lie. She takes two sips, makes a little face, still, and glances back and forth between the two. "Well, that was nice of him." V'ret's such a nice guy. Really. Lys explains for Pip, "V'ret's my wingsecond this month," which earns him a smile from the blonde. There's another wingsecond, but apparently that one doesn't warrant mention. The bronze weyrling's smile is easy, now. "Probably did. It's impossible to cram all the information we're supposed to have absorbed by the end of the day in--I did notice the boots. They're very nice." That's offered less as a compliment to Lys than across to V'ret's new acquaintance there. "One of them," he amends, as to wingseconds. Such a nice guy. "Plenty of work, but you have to relax sometime, don't you?" The compliment from Lys is the one that makes him grin kind of stupidly. He's still mostly looking at his wine, though, so maybe no one will notice it. P'tras glances up at them when V'ret adds his own. There's less stupid smiling, but he says, "Thanks." In the next moment, "So. You two spend a lot of time together? All three of you, I mean?" "I love them," the boots. That gets a genuine, warm smile for P'tras. "They're fitting better now," she adds, in case he wanted to know. "Not as tight. I expect I'll be able to start wearing them for drills and all that soon. "Did we decide what I'm giving you in return?" Lys lifts her brows at the male greenrider like she's unclear on where the sachet talk ended up. Only then does she look to V'ret with a smile, "Mm," is an agreeing sound about relaxing and there's just a little hint of a blush on her cheeks. Evidently, she'll let him answer P'tras' question. V'ret doesn't bother to hide looking pleased at the blush, but he keeps his response well-mannered: "More often the two of us. But of course, all the weyrlings end up spending so much time together normally, even now that we're out of the barracks." V'ret has another drink, finally actually looks at some of the things Lys handed him before. "They seem to have a talent for inventing ways to keep us busy, don't they?" "Lys is your girl?" P'tras says it out loud, looking at V'ret and then at the other greenrider like he's just learned something he'd rather not know. Everything else about the boots seems to be a little less important to him than this other stuff, but he can still say, "You don't need to give me anything in return." Moar wine, plzkthnx. He's going to be more than buzzed soon enough at this rate. "Well, that's their jo-" Lys has only started to answer V'ret when P'tras speaks. Her blush flares and she stares at him with wide eyes, her lips pressed together in a displeased line. "Oh, you're getting something in return," sounds more like a threat. Maybe that something will be rigged to explode. The way she shifts is probably something V'ret recognizes. It's the way Lys moves before she runs from something she'd rather not face. The only hesitancy seems to be in looking at the paperwork that's still undone. This might not have been such a big deal for V'ret, but a reaction like that requires a response. What kind is a bit more difficult to determine. Another drink? And another. That's a start. "I clearly had more to drink the other night than I intended." The look he gives P'tras is a bit sharp, but then it turns more softly on Lys. "I know I shouldn't have said anything," solicitous now. "No need to take it out on someone else." P'tras doesn't seem very concerned with any threats, from Lys or otherwise. He glances down at her boots, then finishes off the rest of the wine in his glass. "I didn't know you were taken. Sorry, wingleader." He says it like she could be a really real one and not just a weyrling one. Mostly. There's something a little disappointed there, too, but for now he's not moving from where he's sitting. Just refilling his glass and not offering to top off anyone else. Lys turns her hard, look on V'ret and becomes something conflicted, and then a glare because in the face of feeling too much, it's easier to choose anger or annoyance or some combination thereof. "He's getting something in return because he gave me the nicest gift anyone ever has," so there. Nevermind that this gesture of gratitude is caught up in her annoyance over the other thing. "I'm not-" is to P'tras, then a look to V'ret, "We haven't talked about-- Oh, fuck this. I need a stronger drink." That's a little bit of giving up, but since her pages end up in her seat as she rises to head to the bar, she's probably coming back: gird your loins, boys. Her departure has V'ret sighing heavily, raking a hand back through his hair, then drinking deeply from his glass, like that has nothing to do with the reason why this problem arose in the first place. "It's early days. I shouldn't have said--I just shouldn't have." Talking to himself, or P'tras, does it matter which? His eyes turn to watch Lys, and despite the pages left behind, he does not seem at all sure of her return. The greenrider watches Lys as she leaves for the bar, looking slightly guilty now that no one's paying enough attention to him to notice. "I didn't mean to piss her off," says P'tras, starting to move himself toward the edge of his seat, moving his sketchbook from under his leg to the arm of the chair while he starts working on chugging the rest of his glass. He might be able to finish that and still be ready to bolt if necessary. As the green weyrling approaches the bar, she picks her target. It's not the bartender. Oh, no. It's a man just old enough to be thoroughly flattered by the dazzling smile she offers him as she slides in beside his stool. At this distance, it's impossible to overhear what she says, but from her body language and the way one of Lys' hands moves to settle on the man's bicep as he laughs that she's flirting outrageously with him. It doesn't take long before the bartender is summoned over to fill her drink order, courtesy of her new 'friend.' "It's not you who did," says V'ret, though he doesn't look back at P'tras as he says it. Not like it's going to do him any good to stare like that, especially if he doesn't actually get up to follow her, which for whatever reason does not seem to be an option on the table. But, stare he does, interrupting it only with occasional sips. "Faranth, look at her." If this is the worst misery he's ever suffered, of course, he'll have had an easy life. But he still sounds pretty miserable. P'tras isn't looking at her anymore, but he sounds almost as miserable as the weyrling when he says, "You shouldn't watch her like that. That's probably what she wants. Probably why she sat here if she knew you were coming, too. Wanted to make sure I knew she already had a cuter guy than me so I'd stop." Stop what, he's less clear on. It's not like he's done much but be an idiot around her, after all. "What?" That at least distracts V'ret's attention away from the minute details of what Lys is doing over there. "She's not that sort of girl," he says, though the evidence right now might not be backing him up exactly. "Not manipulative like that." Again, evidence. "I can't fault your taste, anyway." He might not be happy with this total stranger flirting with Lys, but at least he doesn't seem to take the idea that P'tras was doing the same nearly as badly. The greenrider glances over at the green weyrling, one brow arching at V'ret when his gaze ends up back on him. Suuure, she isn't. It might be all over his expressive face, but P'tras isn't going to say out loud that V'ret might not be seeing the situation very clearly. All the same, he offers as graciously as a disappointed young man who knows damned well he's not really a threat can, "I won't get in your way." Lys can't leave the bar immediately with her drink, of course, so she stays, chatting through the first couple of sips. Then there's an exaggeratedly apologetic look and she's taking her leave, but not without a parting grope from the man only getting his due. Her whole body tenses at that, apparently able to talk the talk but not walk the walk, and her trip back to the boys has her expression possibly just as annoyed as when she left and too distracted to remember the quick tug she made on her shirt is showing more than she probably would put on display for two men in the canine kennel. Still, she has whiskey of over two fingers when she sits back down. Apparently the man at the bar believed whatever she told him about needing a stronger drink - and if a girl wants to get drunk and defenseless, who's going to argue? Glances back over, here and there, but has V'ret caught the end of it? Maybe not. P'tras, after all, suddenly warrants some real interest, a genuine look: "I appreciate it. I owe you." But he does notice Lys on her way back, and now uses this opportunity to gather up the papers she left behind and start doing some straightening of them. He totally wasn't talking about her just after getting in trouble for talking about her. Nope. P'tras sort of smiles, but it fades when his focus comes back to Lys. So far he's not had a lot of luck avoiding looking at her chest, and where her shirt is now is basically begging his eyes to settle there for the handful of seconds that they do. "I should probably get going. There's things. And stuff," he says lamely. So many things and stuff. "If you leave without telling me what I can make for you, I'm only going to hunt you down later," Lys flashes a fake smile at P'tras. Later, when P'tras will be substantially more alone, probably. She lets V'ret keep her papers for the moment, leaning back into the couch to take a couple admirable swallows. V'ret ends up rifling through them at some length, and perhaps there's a little bit of real curiosity in it, seeing everything there is that needs doing, but mostly it means he gets a few moments more of avoiding the trouble. "Things," he agrees with P'tras, then, "We'll get a drink sometime, huh?" Under better circumstances, hopefully. A sideways look at Lys, like he's trying to judge her mood better before saying more to her. He's picking up his sketchbook and wineskin, rising to his feet. "Whatever you think is good," is offered in a bit of a rush to Lys, and then P'tras is off, making his way to the bar to set his glass on the counter so he can disappear to wherever these things and stuff are supposed to be happening. P'tras' exit doesn't do anything for Lys' mood, glowering after him with that quick response. She doesn't move from the slouch against the couch that would probably be quite comfortable if she weren't so tense. She drinks deeply again, not looking at V'ret, but rather staring into the the increasing activity of the bar as time soldiers on. Neither does V'ret go anywhere, though he has only the one glass and he finishes that off soon afterwards. Then it's just sitting for a bit, before he finally murmurs, without making eye contact, "I can take care of these. It's not like I have other plans tonight." It's an offering, of sorts, and then he's getting up. "I'm sorry. I just thought--I'm sorry." Lys's hand reaches up just after he rises to hook too fingers into one of his pants pockets, sitting up and leaning forward. "The way I see it, you have two choices, V'ret. You can sit back down and tell me what it was you thought, or you can go." There's a little edge to Lys' voice that probably means there's a right answer here. She slips her fingers back out just as quick as they came, letting him make the choice. Does he have to sit back down? V'ret does not look particularly happy to be sitting back down. But he does it, anyway. "I thought it couldn't hurt, by now. That I've worked hard enough and this has been going long enough that it couldn't hurt for someone to know, to just act like things were... normal." Which is not, to judge from the face he makes, quite the right words, but he doesn't seem to come up with any better ones than that. "Don't you think-" Lys begins with each word enunciated carefully, angling her body slightly toward the bronze weyrling, looking at her drink though rather than at him, "-that if you wanted me to be 'your girl' that maybe-- just maybe-" she might still be frustrated, "I'm the first person who you should've mentioned that to?" Okay. Now V'ret is momentarily reduced to just staring at her and looking incredibly confused. "You've slept in my bed. You're not sleeping in anybody else's bed, that I'm aware of. Under what possible standard are you not my girl?" His world might be one that's a little less complex than some people's. "I've slept in other people's beds before," Lys replies quickly. Now, granted, that's the only part of what's gone on in V'ret's bed that's a repeat, "And that never made me their girl. Besides, liking someone and doing things with them and sleeping in their bed doesn't automatically make some kind of-- relationship? Claim? Something." She looks a little uncomfortable in even saying those sorts of words aloud. To him. The first instinct, the first response, it's bitten back before he's managed to actually do more than take in the breath to say it. Held for a moment, then... V'ret just lets it go. "My mistake. Shouldn't have assumed. When you're ready... you can tell me when you're ready. If." This time, when he stands up, he's a little quicker about putting distance between her and any articles of his clothing. "Please don't walk away," is a request this time, Lys' expression slipping all the way from the protective annoyance to looking hurt. "I was surprised. I'm always surprised," when he seems to like her. It seems, for a moment, like she'd like to say more, but she's waiting to see if he's going anyway. The first part might not have been enough to hold him, but the second part seems to. Not to do any sort of romance-novel sweeping back to her to catch her up in his arms, but V'ret at least stands in one place, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto those papers so tightly his knuckles are pale. "I don't know what the right thing to say here is." "I don't know either," Lys sighs, reaching her freehand up to tug through her hair. "I don't even know what you meant by my being your girl. That's-- why I would've wanted to talk - why I'd like to talk about it. I don't know what it means, V'ret, what you want it to mean." And probably, if she wants it to mean that too. His eyes follow the track of her hand. "I don't think I'm ready to have that conversation," V'ret says, brow furrowed, perhaps aware of how ridiculous it must sound to be perfectly ready to call her that but not at all ready to have a serious conversation about what it means. "Not yet." "Okay," seems accepting enough. Lys bites her lower lip like she might want to say something else, but thinks better of it and instead asks, "Can we go back to your place and work and--" the blush fills in what she doesn't say, "have something normal?" It's probably not meant to be an echo of his justification for calling her something to someone else when he didn't even know what he meant. "We don't have to talk." About Things, probably, not in general, although... Whatever the state of V'ret's feelings, he's perfectly aware of what he's carrying and how much time it represents if done alone. But that's probably not the only reason that the corners of his mouth tug up just the slightest. "Yes. That sounds... good." Normal. He holds his free hand out to her. It's probably coincidence that Lys downs the rest of her drink, coughing a little in its wake, before she reaches to take V'ret's hand. Her blush is sudden and apparent, but she doesn't release his hand as she follows him from the bar. |
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