Logs:Wakeful Worries
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| RL Date: 19 May, 2013 |
| Who: K'zin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin can't sleep. So he wakes Telavi. Things go better than one might expect; much is shared and learned in a few vulnerable moments. |
| Where: Questionably Painted Weyr (K'zin's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 10, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quielle/Mentions, N'gan/Mentions, Ustelan/Mentions, Jo/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Takes place later in the same night as Logs: Noisy Neighbors (back-dated and played over gdocs). I can neither confirm nor deny that this was another attempt at a snippet and that we are still not good at limiting ourselves to only a couple poses. |
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| Questionably Painted Weyr At the back of the weyr the cavern branches into two good-sized back rooms with a double-sided fireplace occupying the wall they share. The weyr even comes already decorated. It has an ornately carved bed and press in both of the rooms; the front area offers a polished rectangular table and six matching chairs, a set-up perfect for entertaining. Rugs are scattered across the floor, their colors bright and cheery to match the walls. But oh, those walls! Some artistic hand has painted mural on every wall, filled with bright colors and bordered by mixed fruits and vegetables. The mildest murals are filled with exuberant scenes of dancing people, but most of them are of a more... questionable nature. They're certainly not the sort of thing any concerned parent would want their children to see, though they give the weyr a definite party atmosphere.
Telavi is a girl who likes her sleep, nocturnal excursions aside. It may not be a surprise by now that with all that shaking, gentle though it is, she attempts to burrow in and even tug the covers over her head, like that would help. But finally, when she is will-she-or-no woken up, "Pre-what-now?" It may not be a surprise that he's asking, but that he's asking now... His arm squeezes and shakes a little more. She can burrow all she wants, but Worried Waki won't be deterred so easily. "Precautions. That's what the book calls them. I'm not sure what they are, but the book said women can take precautions to try to make sure they don't get pregnant. And we've been having a lot of sex--" By comparison to the first eighteen celibate turns of K'zin's life. "So, are you? Do I need to be worried every time we roll around that I might be becoming a dad?" Limpet TeLavi sighs, a heavy, heavy sigh, and it's work to piece these things together, because she mumbles something about flamethrowers and what? and then oh. That. "Took care of that. S'long as it keeps working, we're fine." 'Keeps working,' like somehow it could randomly decide not to? That has K'zin heaving a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, good, then." Nothing else to worry about, right? His hand settles into a gentle rhythmic stroking of her shoulder. He stays silent a long time. Maybe even long enough for her to start falling asleep. Shouldn't he be able to sleep now? "I don't want kids of my own. It-- never-- it seems like a bad idea." Drowsily, eventually, little pauses in there like the ghosts of dreams, "Never ever? Not even in..." What's forever? It takes her awhile to come up with it, nearly falling asleep all over again. "Twenty Turns? Thirty." With sleepy satisfaction, "Seventy, like Lord Ustelan." "My parents had seven. I think Dad wanted them so he wouldn't be alone because my mother's not the settling type... always of on her own adventures. Maybe he thought having so many kids at MineCraft would make her want to be there." K'zin's murmur is soft, pained. "If that's the reason, it never worked. It feels like people have kids for a lot of messed up reasons. Reasons a lot more complicated than because they bumped uglies enough times. Maybe never. Maybe someday? I don't know. Not now. Not anytime soon." He shifts so he can pull her against him. He's not a big cuddler, but just now, he wants that closeness. K'zin. It's his name, softly. Sleepiness must make it easier to just listen, but that's not nearly all of it. Eventually Telavi says into his shoulder, as drifting as though they were walking down some tunnel in no hurry at all, "It's funny..." except for the part where none of it is laughable, "usually you hear about its being the other way around, the man having the adventures, except maybe out here... funny how plans didn't work out. I wonder if they ever talked." Maybe she shouldn't ask. Probably she shouldn't ask. Almost certainly, but then she does, softly still. "Do you all look like him?" "Who?" Talked. K'zin looks momentarily confused. "Quielle and N'gan? Or my parents? They talk. They write each other a lot, too." It seems fine from the outside, from the perspective of a child who doesn't think to ask the hard questions. "Nah. My oldest brother looks more like him than the rest of us. All the rest of us look just like my mom. I asked Jo once if she was sure we weren't related, maybe a cousin or something because we look a lot alike, though she looks not much like my mom or my sister. They have sort of-- darker, crisper features where Jo and I are a little more... hazy, does that make sense? Softer colors blending together even if our angles are strong." A finger comes up to touch his chin as though to explain. For all that he wants the closeness, he doesn't seem to mind talking about it. After all,he brought it up. Then again, the subtle implication of her question seems to be entirely lost on him. "Them too," is rather dry, but Telavi subsides to listen, smiling against his skin at the mention of Jo. Not that she questions, or follows up that part at all. Maybe she's distracted by, "I wouldn't have applied 'hazy' to you... but maybe, in comparison, all right." Maybe she doesn't want her worlds to collide, any more than they have already. Sleepy-sounding still, "Seven children... when you don't have fields to work, it seems like a lot? But maybe the goal was to populate a minehold all by yourselves. I don't want to speculate about anyone's mom's ability to stop having kids... but you'd think a journeyman would be able to. Maybe? She was a journeyman, journeying?" "No, they probably didn't." K'zin answers her of Quielle and N'gan. "I probably wouldn't have thought to ask. I mean, the book said, but I didn't really think about it in that sort of way since I don't have to actively do anything." He tilts his head down to press a kiss to her temple, "Thank you, Telavi. For being responsible about things and not letting us get recalled to the barracks for all our extracurricular activities." It might be meant as a tease, except it sounds wholly genuine. He's voicing his true appreciation for her making the effort that he can't. Subtly, there's an underlying appreciation that he can trust her to do that. "Dad always said he wanted a big family... I gathered from their letters that there was some agreement between them that as long as she was still having the children he wanted, she'd be allowed to get posted to wherever she wanted and the MineCraft wanted her, without him complaining. I sometimes wonder what things have been like since she hasn't had any in the last fourteen turns and is still posted-- well, I don't know where, right now." He frowns, then his shoulders shift in what must be meant to be a shrug. Doesn't bother him. He's a tough guy. La la la. No, that's not the start of tears! Don't look, don't look! Praise is good, kisses are wonderful, appreciation is too, and trust... suddenly, quickly, Tela says, "If someone ever tells you, just pull out, it's okay, don't believe them. And it's not just that, but you can't assume someone's..." She bites her lip. "Later." Because parents. And letters, "You read their letters?" as though they would be letters to each other, not to him. Tela borrows his shoulder to pull herself up, even press him further back if she can so, yes, she can see. It's a pity about the banked fire casting shadows as it does, its light catching at her hair, because she can't see, not really. And that's even before the 'don't know where.' Her eyes are large and dark. She bends down, kisses him. His returning kiss is needy; he wants that contact that further intimacy. His lips don't break from hers for a long time; so long that it might seem the talking is over, until he finally does pull his lips free, breathing harder. "I read them. Because I was always convinced there was something in there about why she wasn't home to visit that she didn't put in the letters to the rest of us. There never was." There's a sniff that is probably a telltale of his emotion. One hand is rising to pinch between his eyes. "Sorry, Ras." He mumbles quietly, and then with a breath seems to shove off that attack of tears. "Give me the rundown. What kind of woman behavior do I need to look out for if I want to avoid being Dear Ol' Dad too soon?" "You snooped." But it's fond, and Tela leans an elbow on the mattress, not into his chest, so she can trace each eyebrow with a fingertip. "K'zin? Before we try for a rundown," and she doesn't mean to use the tone of voice that makes it sound more like a 'rubdown,' "two things. Just because it wasn't in the letters, doesn't mean there wasn't a reason. Because if he knew... then she didn't have to write it... and some things, some people just don't say out loud, much less write about, much less in so many words. You know?" And the other is, softer, "He may mind, but I don't." Which is to say, sniff away, though it should go without saying not to blow his nose in her hair. "Yeah." K'zin admits with a little shrug. "Some things are important enough to break rules over." Mothers are one of them. He closes his eyes as she traces his brows, shifting just a touch nearer to her. "Mm?" Is the answering noise to the questioning lilt of his name. "Mm." Comes the much firmer response to what she has to say. "It's embarrassing. He says it's not manly. But I'm glad you don't mind. 'Cause I can't seem to stop it entirely." He doesn't offer further thoughts about his parents. The tears are probably clue enough that it's a tough topic for him. "So, the rundown?" And this time, he echoes her alluring tone. That's nothing that Telavi will argue with, instead letting his words rest there in silence. Her touch is gentle, unhurried, less exploring the contours of his face than reminding them of themselves. The angles are strong. And if parts are hazy too, that's good in a different way. He doesn't offer, and she doesn't need to ask. And then he offers something else, and she smiles. "Just... if mine ever doesn't work, don't ever think it's on purpose." There's something there, shades of N'gan's accusations. After that, after sliding into the lighter mimicry of women batting their lashes over heart-folded hands and effusing about special! darling! wonderful! infants, past the round-eyed ingenue, also with batting lashes, who claims to have never ever done this before, past the girl with the fair of firelizards who want to watch... when has a rundown turned out so fun? |
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