Logs:Wish on a Star
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| RL Date: 28 December, 2015 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys, Aidavanth, Evyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Jocelyn and Lys have their first date. They're super sappy-romantic-adorable and do a lot of getting to know each other. |
| Where: Tiny Glacial Valley and Pond, near High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Ethran/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Rajiv/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions, V'ros/Mentions |
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>---< Tiny Glacial Valley and Pond, near High Reaches Weyr (TP Room - HRW) >-<
Not far from High Reaches Weyr, this sheltered, shallow valley tucked
into the mountains is reachable only by dragonwings, and is home to many
ponds and hardy trees, the former thawing only in deep summer. During
summer, it is also festooned with wildflowers and scrubby grasses.
Available Commands: +tp/help
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s
Jocelyn F 25 5'5" lean, red hair, blue-gray eyes 0s It's easy to just get busy. That's one lesson of weyrlinghood as the rhythm of training carries them from the novel and challenging to the more practiced but still challenging and on to assessments at the end of the month. With the last day of the month's training done, tonight is the perfect night to be seized. There will be concerns tomorrow, certainly, for the new lessons of the next month and there's always overarching concerns and worries, but with pressure ease for just this one night, the planned evening commences. Though an early dinner was had with the other weyrlings eating then, Lys had more smiles-for-no-reason and excused herself a little early. Evyth wanted to fly with Aidavanth, but meeting there seemed wisest for their privacy. The trip is short and the arrival in the wildflower festooned valley is timed perfectly with the first tinge of sun-setting color. Evyth's landing is neat and Lys' dismount practiced now. Bags are removed from the straps, one after another along with a covered glow basket. In deference to the coming dark, the straps are left on the green, and Lys fidgets with the bags a little, perhaps stalling in facing this big step. The end of this particular month results in a weary Jocelyn who puts in an appearance at dinner with the other weyrlings as expected. As has been the case for the past few sevens, she's been even more taciturn than usual in public; she's studied harder lately than in months previous, and the increased workload of weyrwoman training shows in the way she keeps her head buried in notes - sometimes past the once lights-out time for their class, if those still-present dark circles under her eyes are any indication. Tonight, however: assessments are over and there's a little time available for the taking. The redhead doesn't watch Lys leave, doesn't leave immediately after, but there's a warmth that emanates from Aidavanth to Evyth, colored with an underlying flutter of something that has nothing to do with the dragon, and everything with her rider. Aidavanth joins her sibling in the valley some time later, burnished hide gleaming in that last bit of light as Rukbat starts to set. Her landing is steady, her long stride bringing her closer to Evyth and Lys before Jocelyn swings down, pressing one hand against the queen's forelimb to steady herself as she inhales, exhales. Pale eyes settle immediately on Lys, even as her hands self-consciously smooth at her attire; both dark trousers and a button-down shirt of powder blue are well-fitted, thanks to her recent appointments with the weyr's weavers. Certainly, this is more polished than most have seen her - but she's still Jocelyn, even expression giving way to the softer one she's lately reserved for her lovely friend. Equally soft is her formal, if no less warm, "Good evening, Lys." Well, Evyth is leaving the nerves to Lys. If the green is a little nervous for the events of the evening, it's almost wholly the good kind of nervous - excitement - and just a little undercurrent of wishing this will go well for Lys and Jocelyn, both. She's been less chatty with her golden sister where it concerns the topic of this date because she doesn't want to accidentally tell a secret just because she's so comfortable with Aidavanth. It's a real possibility. (To Aidavanth from Evyth) Lys's taken some pains with her appearance tonight. Though her blonde hair is barely touching her shoulders and bound to be cut again in time for the excitement of the next month (flaming!), she's taken the time to put small braids into it, as once she sported in her longer locks, with the embellishments of small seashells and a few glass beads. Just a little cosmetics have been applied to make her blue-green eyes all the more intense. Those eyes turn away from the bag she's been fussing over almost guiltily and Lys straightens, looking at the other woman, her own blouse a pastel teal and khakis rolled up to just below her knee seeming to need a brush over of her hands, too. "Hey Joce," is murmured answer with a shy sort of smile. "I'm nervous," she volunteers a moment later, perhaps as a blurt, but that doesn't stop her from taking a single step toward Jocelyn and stopping, still out of personal-space-bubble range. To Evyth, Aidavanth permits a small echo of that wishing to well through their connection. So many things will change as they keep progressing toward the conclusion of their training; some concern, shared previously, makes itself known again in a side-glimmer of thought. Behind the public persona, there will always be just Jocelyn - someone she will always know, but someone who is all too much like her: duty may yet overrule the person beneath. But that gets gently tucked away after a moment of sharing so that Aidavanth can instead reflect the swoop of happiness that flares when their riders' eyes meet before politely dialing down that part of the bond, no matter how helpful such bleeding over may be for the controlled redhead. « This was an excellent idea, » she says with her usual warm, clear certainty. "I'm rather anxious, myself, " admits Jocelyn, but the curve of her smile mirrors some of the joy that Aidavanth lets Evyth witness, even as blue-gray eyes take in the other weyrling's appearance in a slow study. "You look lovely, " is said sincerely, followed by a careful step, then another, one hand extending to stretch palm-up between them in silent invitation. "I - have thought of little else when I'm not nose-deep in studies, I - " A breath. "I'm glad that we're getting to do this." She's still cosmetic-free, but there's little need for much addition when her own anticipation brightens her eyes and colors her cheeks. To Aidavanth, Evyth agrees, in words, even, « It is! » She sneaks a peek toward the pair of people, though she's trying not to be too nosy. « Even if things don't work-- I mean, they will, but even if they didn't, they'd know each other better. Lys will always know Jocelyn, » she feels certain of that to her very bones (and perhaps Lys does too), « even if Jocelyn forgets who Jocelyn is once she's weyrwoman. » There's a pause before, « Lys admires Irianke for being Irianke, not for being Weyrwoman, » and the green doesn't see why it wouldn't be the same with Jocelyn. Lys's smile grows less shy and more warm as Jocelyn speaks, her hand reaching to meet the goldrider's without hesitation. With that contact, the greenrider takes the necessary steps to bring her closer to the redhead, stopping just shy of the embrace-zone. "You, too." Look nice. "And me, too." Possibly thinking of little else, but more likely that she's glad they're getting to do this. "It's nice already," she decides with a flash of teeth in her smile before her lips press back together, still smiling. "I brought blankets, to sit on and in case it starts to get chilly once the sun sets. Do you want to set things up first or maybe go for a walk or-- it'll be a bit before the stars start coming out." She looks only briefly away from the redhead toward the sky as if to double-check herself. To Evyth, Aidavanth has the mental equivalent of an almost-smile for Evyth's peeking; her attention, meanwhile, decidedly remains not on the two humans who are much closer now than they were a few minutes ago. Quietly, « I'm glad. She has a weyrwoman-friend in Roszadyth's, but - » While there's nothing but warmth for their mother and the other queen's rider, there's the sense that that particular alliance has grown solely because the two are in the same boat, whatever the conditions of that vessel. And as for Irianke? « Niahvth's is Weyrwoman, » is said simply, if gently pointed. There isn't much separation between the two concepts, and it's hard to tell how much of that sentiment is Aidavanth and how much isn't. « But she is, as you say - admirable. » Jocelyn's fingers lace about those of the blonde's, while their owner can't help but look some combination of amused and pleased. "Nice already, " she echoes, gently wry. "And all we've done is say 'hello' and hold hands." Still, there's a considering glance upward before her gaze resettles on the greenrider. "What would you like to do first? We can get everything set up; we can go walking; as long as it pleases you, I'll be happy to take most any course of action." It might sound corny on someone else, but she's earnest, lifting her free hand to seek a fleeting brush of fingertips down Lys's cheek, all gentleness. Aidavanth's words draw Evyth's attention away from the peeking. « She is, » there's no argument in that. « But Niahvth's is not only Weyrwoman anymore than Niahvth is only gold, or you, for that matter, or me. I'm not only green. I'm Evyth, » she's happy for that; she wouldn't like to be someone else. She does grant, « It does seem that those with great responsibility are proportionally their role more than themselves. If I were ever to be a wingleader, I would be wingleader slightly more than I am Evyth, no matter what I might like to be. » She seems to suspect the scale only slides the greater the responsibility. (To Aidavanth from Evyth) "Extra nice then," Lys qualifies, giving that held hand a squeeze, even as her smile goes a little wider at the touch to her cheek. "Would it be nice or not nice for me to say I'd like to kiss you first so I'm not wondering when or if that might happen the rest of the night?" There's been sevens of private, fleeting flirtations during study sessions, a brush of fingers here, a touch of boots to boots here, so perhaps it's no wonder that's high on her list. "But only if you want to," is added quickly, sincerely, "Only if it would be alright with you," and not set them on a perilous path or something. "This is for you, too, you know." This date. The rest, too. It's not just about Lys. To Evyth, Aidavanth projects « And who else would you be? » She's all amused affection for her sister, as is her wont. Of responsibility: « It seems to be a necessity. We're learning that we must be what the weyr needs us to be. » It's such a simple statement, but the orange-gold brings those matter-of-fact words to bear with a subtle sense of weight behind them. « Just as you are sure that you'd be what your wing needed you to be. » "I - " Jocelyn's mouth opens, then closes, and the carefully held line of her lips trembles, just a fraction. That hand that feathered its way down her cheek returns to warmly cup it just so in her palm, her eyes very blue, so intent. "You've wondered, have you." It's a low prompt that's at once pleased and promising, and she releases the other woman's hand so that she can better frame Lys's face with both of her own, lips parting as her gaze takes in those blue-green eyes, the greenrider's lips, then back up again. "Does it please you, dear Lys, to know that I've wondered, too? How it would feel to be so close to you?" So singular is her focus as she inches forward that she probably misses how naturally the endearment comes to her; she's too preoccupied with gentling her approach so that she can brush her lips to the corner of Lys's mouth before they press more properly to hers in a tender, if tentatively chaste kiss. « Exactly! » is cheerfully emphatic. Evyth is so pleased that Aidavanth understands so completely. Not that friends can't have differing views, but that in this, it's nice to agree. « I suppose we shouldn't look. » It's wistful, but she doesn't. « Should we go flying? Give them privacy? Test the night air tonight? » It might be glorious. (To Aidavanth from Evyth) Lys doesn't tremble. She also doesn't move. She does smile, still, and tilt her head just a little into that first palm. She takes a little step in as Jocelyn's second hand finds her face. Blue-green eyes meet blue unflinchingly, a soft but very real anticipation brightening them. Any answer she might've made (though the slight widening of her smile might answer for her) is silenced by that kiss. That Lys' head turns just slightly, seeking the more proper kiss even as the brush finishes means Lys wants to find out. Still, she doesn't make the kiss more than it naturally wants to be. Chaste, but real. She can't seem to resist following it up with a quick second that is less controlled, less chaste, but still close-lipped and brief. She pulls back just a little, smiling. "Of course it pleases me. It would be awful if I was the only one." When did Lys' hands find Jocelyn's hips? Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, probably, and there they linger. "Let's set up first," she decides, "while we still have the light." No, they probably shouldn't. But then again, they don't have to, do they? « I could use a stretch, » agrees Aidavanth, never mind that it hasn't been all that long since she flew over from the weyr proper. « I'm sure these currents will feel wonderful. » There might even be another spot farther away that has a different, better view of the stars if the two should wish to see the skies from another angle. It's enough reason to spring aloft, broad wings carrying her easily upward in large sweeps. (To Evyth from Aidavanth) If Jocelyn leans a little into that second kiss and lets her touch linger there, however brief its duration, well. There's a soft sigh as Lys pulls away, and if her gaze was warm before for this person who's grown to mean something to her, it's cherishing now, drinking in the sight of Lys's features with the expression of one regarding a being who's incalculably precious. "That was close, " she murmurs, "but you'll have to forgive me for saying that it's hardly close enough." Her hands fall naturally to curl gently about the other's back; the sound of wingbeats signaling Aidavanth's departure elicits a quiet exhale, a small and very real smile tipping toward the greenrider's cargo. "That's a good idea. What can I do to help?" Other than let go so that they can use their hands for blanket-arranging, which she doesn't do immediately. To Aidavanth, Evyth's agreement is tacit, and indeed, once they're airborne the green seems quite distracted by their adventure to angles unknown. She's companionable, as always, chatting when there's things to chat about and otherwise companionably silent. She might even be giving Lys privacy for now, though certainly she's never more than a thought away. Jocelyn's first has Lys laughing, brightly, her head falling back a little to turn her smile skyward and then back to Jocelyn. She leans herself into the goldrider, frame pressing to frame. "Better?" comes with boldness and wry humor, though it seems like Lys doesn't intend to linger over-long. "I always imagined that one of the nice things about being out under the stars was having someone to keep warm with. I mean, I imagined that trader guy, then, but this is better. We don't have to walk at all," she suggests as she casts a glance toward the bags that must hold folded blankets, "Just sit or lay and talk," a pause and then she adds with an impish smile, "and kiss." Of course, that would require separating to get said blankets and lay them out. To Evyth, Aidavanth, likewise, is as ever happy to share in conversation and enjoy the friendly silences between them when they arise. There's a pleased glimmer just below the surface of her presence for the progress below, but her rider, too, has as much privacy as she can afford her - and the responsibility to give freely of her own expressions of feeling while she explores the terrain with Evyth. Those hands now press Lys gently to her for the short time that they're flush together, and Jocelyn's look is one of near-wonder in the wake of that laugh as she reluctantly takes a small step back. "Tell me how I can ensure that you have enough joy to laugh like that more often, " she says admiringly, eyebrows lifting as she, too, peers toward the bags. "You said you wanted to ask personal, prying questions. We can sit and talk, but I wouldn't object if you wanted to - hold one another and talk, too. For your honesty, " she promises, "you may have as many kisses as you desire." But first: blankets and comfort are going to be paramount. There's a smile that might seem a little secretive as Lys contemplates an answer for Jocelyn, "Right now, just be you. Here with me." That version of Jocelyn. "Seemed to work well enough this last time," for the laughter. There's a little put-upon sigh as she shifts to step away from the goldrider, to pluck up a pack and hand it over to her before picking up a second. "I might've gone overboard with blankets," she admits, though not fully embarrassed. "But at least it'll make the ground softer and us warmer." There are two thicker blankets in the pack passed to the goldrider, and three in Lys. "Yours on the ground, mine to scrunch up around us?" She suggests, already moving to settle them. "I haven't forgotten my questions," not even a little. The first one, "When did you start wanting more? With me." That's actually not so bad as prying and personal goes, but it would satisfy some personal curiosity on Lys' part and serves as a nice warm up for the rest. "I'll do my best, " Jocelyn says seriously, opening the pack she's handed to unfold those thick blankets. While her attention seems trained on getting them placed and arranged in a neat and (hopefully) comfortable stack that makes for a surface far softer than the ground for sitting and reclining, she certainly hasn't missed Lys's question, not the way her lips purse thoughtfully as she leans back on her heels to inspect her handiwork before experimentally taking a seat on those layers. "I can't pinpoint an exact moment, " she muses at some length, "so if you're after precise time of day, which seven and which month, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint. I didn't realize that I did for a time, not until I woke up one day and discovered that I - trusted you beyond feeling some kinship. Our friendship means a great deal to me, and you - you looked at me and asked if we could - try things, and I knew, quite suddenly, that I couldn't just give it a whirl and shrug it off, not when you've come to mean so much - " And she trails off with that thought, finally glancing up again with a slightly embarrassed, if determined expression as she removes her boots so that socked feet can wiggle more freely. "Your turn, lovely Lys. Why did you choose to come to me, despite your experimentation and others with demonstrated preferences?" "This isn't a history lesson," Lys teases, "no need to be so exact." The blush came with the compliment and lingers. "You should know, I'm not very good with compliments," it must be said. "I'm finding it... easier with you, because they're not-- they're real," she can evidently tell, "but they still make me self-conscious. I used to be just another face in the kitchens, you know? Compliments mean you've been noticed." And that's still somewhat uncomfortable for her. Once that's said, she sits to do likewise with her boots. To her credit, she looks at the goldrider when she answers, "I trust you, and you're beautiful. I thought... I would cherish making you happy, even if it might only be the one time, or not at all since-- you know, I thought you were straight." She points that out as a teasing almost-accusation. The former assistant headwoman does know, and Jocelyn slowly reaches over to lay her hand atop one of Lys's. "You aren't alone in not knowing what exactly to do with personal compliments, " she confides, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "I think you started not long after Giorda promoted me, but I can't say for sure. Someone who certainly looked rather like you was working in the kitchens then while I did my early rotations through each section of the lower caverns. I don't remember much from my first turn or two as an assistant, truth be known, aside from having how to do my job drilled into my head." Not that proof is required for her first statement, but her cheeks redden for being called beautiful - and something vulnerable pushes its way through her features. "You would cherish making me happy, " she repeats softly, staring incredulously. "Oh, Lys. That was very brave of you, to take that chance." And as promised, there's a lingering kiss that seeks the other's cheek for her honesty, expression considering when she pulls back enough to meet those light eyes with her own. "I've never really given it any serious thought, " she says of is-she-or-isn't-she, "but what I have decided is that the level of trust with another person is what matters the most with me. To me. Clearly, there's little if any difference in the emotional ramifications of seeking intimacy with anyone, regardless of their anatomy. There are enough relationships in a weyr, temporary or otherwise, to demonstrate that." More gently, "What else would you like to know of me?" There can be little doubt that Lys' interest is real, rapt as she is in listening to the goldrider talk and the kiss is appreciated, the blonde's eyes fluttering briefly closed, her smile going a little sappy in its pleasure. "I'd rather you didn't remember me from those early turns in the kitchen. I don't think you'd have given me a second look unless it was dirty," and not the good kind. "Evy says I've grown," and if Evy says, it must be so. Who else knows Lys so intimately? "It was... practical," she admits slowly. "But it wasn't only practical." She's not admitting it was brave, but perhaps just that it was emotionally motivated, too. "What worries you most about the emotional ramifications of what this is or might be?" That's a practical question. With Lys' boots now off, she moves farther onto the blanket, snagging the for-snuggling blankets nearer to her. She arranges her limbs with care, legs drawing up and then splaying open, creating a void between her legs where the goldrider might sit, her arms reaching invitingly out to Jocelyn. "I didn't know you then, " Jocelyn points out sensibly, "so to say that I remember you isn't wholly accurate." There's an amused, affectionate look for Evyth's opinion: "She would know best, I'm sure. Aidavanth, " and there's only a moment of hesitation before she presses onward, "feels that I'm different than I was half a turn ago without having completely changed. Perhaps we've always had the potential to be - the versions of us that we are with them in our lives." For that approach that wasn't only practical, there's a curious arch of eyebrows - but the prompt to elaborate on that point stays a silent one, particularly as the greenrider produces another personal question. There's an intake of breath, although it isn't immediately clear whether that's for Lys's inviting posture or for the weight of that inquiry. Maybe both. "I, " she swallows, starts again. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and find that I spent some time in a daydream that never happened." That's hard to get out, almost as awkward as it is to scoot closer so that she can take one of those offered hands, fingertips tracing the lightest of paths up to an elbow, then back down again. "More than how it would impact me, however, I don't want this to have a lasting impact on you that's negative. If we become comfortable enough together to want - " To make each other happy? Well, that's one way to put it. " - to experience each other as completely as we can, I want you to know, both then and afterward, that it's because you are cherished. It wouldn't be a practical item to check off on the to-do list before Evyth or Aidavanth rises in that scenario. I know that - well, some people seem to need - enjoy, even - something more, " a pause, "primal. I don't know if that's my style. I don't think it would be, " and certainly not then. But she leaves that thought there, long enough to shift so that she's reclining on her side, chin propped up on one hand. The other? It rests on the other weyrling's arm, simply there. "If you'd like, " she suggests, "we could hold each other - and you can tell me what worries you about where this - could go." It happens that elaborating goes hand in hand with replying to the rest. There's a little blush in Lys' cheeks for the way Jocelyn chooses to arrange herself murmuring, "I learned massage, a little, from a healer friend of mine while I worked for Irianke, I was going to--" she gives a gesture to the space in front of her, "but you can hold me if you'd rather," but later, says the tone. Later, she might show her that skill. Now, the blonde shifts to lay alongside the redhead, keeping on her back so she can look up at Jocelyn's face, hands resting on her stomach if a little awkwardly. "I've never really had to separate my feelings of attraction and liking from just liking and admiring," she explains slowly. So I liked you and was attracted to you, but I never thought of it in so many words, not just that way anyway. I thought, at best, we might have one night of being comfortably uncomfortable in our inexperience. This is a very different thing. I can't imagine anything happening between us that would leave me worse or less happy than I am now. Being with you makes me happy," she adds that explicitly, looking shyly up at Jocelyn. "I'm worried most about hurting someone I care about. You, or V'ret. By deciding, or by not deciding. I'm worried there's no good solution in the end, but I'm too selfish to not want to find out what happens between here and wherever there might be. I won't ever want to hurt you, but in life people get hurt. People lose people they don't want to lose." That much is sober if unhappy. It's abrupt that her eyes draw back to Jocelyn's face and she says, quite sincerely, "I'm glad this can be more than what I imagined it could," and she lifts her head to seek a kiss - a proper kiss, however gentle, that isn't chaste, but somehow feels like gratitude expressed by tongue. There's an affectionate brush of fingers over Lys's hair for 'comfortably uncomfortable', even as the goldrider slowly - still uncertain, perhaps, of her reception - slides her free arm about the blonde, nudging them closer together so that she can regard her with a quietly attentive look as she listens. It morphs into something others might call uncharacteristically tender, but that's the expression elicited by the statement that their companionship makes the greenrider happy. "There might not be a good solution for everyone, " she acknowledges of choosing at some length, "but the best solution for you will be the one where you are happiest, whatever - whoever - that entails. If he truly cares for you, " and perhaps she can be forgiven for having some dose of skepticism for the concept, "I trust he'd want that, too." But that might be more than enough talk of V'ret for her tastes; at any rate, that proper kiss is met with a sigh and tentative reciprocity that gradually becomes more certain. She's a courteous, if inexperienced kisser, but the little noise pulled from her throat as she lowers her head carefully down to the blankets so that she can better hold Lys close, so reverently, is definitely a positive response. It must be said that Lys, while not so experienced as some, has acquired enough knowledge and skill in what she likes to gently help direct a willing inexperienced kisser, if indeed Jocelyn is that. This kiss doesn't hold more feeling than the others from the greenrider, but feeling presented in a different way, a way that speaks of yearning, of adoration and by the time it ends, she's snuggled quite close to the goldrider, a wondering sort of smile on her face. Rather than revisit the topic of V'ret, blue-green eyes focus on Jocelyn's face as she murmurs, "I have more prying personal questions, some even slanted toward us and this, but I think if we keep talking about us and this, I'm just going to want to kiss you and not stop kissing you. So I'm going to ask prying and personal about other things I'm curious about." Perhaps the explanation is some kind of preventative measure that the woman shouldn't take the questions that come next as motivated by something else. "What do you enjoy about having Impressed gold and what you anticipate your life will be like, going forward?" Oh, Jocelyn is willing. Her own adoration overcomes enough of her reserve to make her, as in many things, a quick study. Her eyes shine when their lips finally part, chin dipping forward so that she can feather a brief kiss to the corner of Lys's mouth for that wondering smile. "Ask, " she prompts softly of those further questions, studying her friend after her next query with a curious look that gradually shades pensive. On the tail end of a slow exhale, "You know, you're the first person to have asked me this, rather than having assumed much of what I'll say." Blue-gray eyes lift briefly skyward before tracking back down to Lys's own. "I enjoy Aidavanth." It's a simple beginning to a complicated answer. "She - understands me, and we share much in common." Wryly, "I don't know that I was made for life as a public figure, " as her harper tutors (among others) will attest, "but continuing to contribute to the well-being of my home on a grander level than I had imagined or hoped for - that's important to me. I had hopes of one day making headwoman, once, but this could be better. I'll still get to help oversee our lower caverns, to some extent, but I'll have the chance to play a greater role in ensuring that our home thrives, does well, prospers fairly in a way that serves its best interests." She's passionate about this, certainly more animated during her reply than she's been on nearly any other subject. What her life will be like going forward, however, is a sobering concept, one that garners a slight furrow in her brow. "It's a double-edged thing, Lys. Some people might just see what they perceive to be perks, I suppose; the knot, the salary, the status - things that will open doors, irrevocably change at least some parts of my life, " as if it hasn't already been completely altered since the moment Aidavanth's eyes met hers. But those things are dismissed with a little wrinkle of her nose. "I'm always going to be watched and judged. People will speculate about me and my motives. They'll treat me differently because my dragon isn't brown, blue or green, even if I haven't done a thing to earn their respect. It'll be harder to know who's genuine in their intentions, of any variety, and who isn't." And if her tone's anything to go by, she doesn't like that idea very much. "The face I will have to present to the public won't reflect the me that you know and seem to like so much, but the weyrwoman I have to be. She was waiting for me, Lys. We have a job to do, together. And we'll do it to the best of our abilities." It's only once Jocelyn has offered answer that Lys tells her simply, "It's an important question to ask, so I know what to remind you about when you're having a bad day." To every curiosity, a purpose. It's her turn to reach a hand over to touch fingertips to cheek, drawing up next to her eye before they drift up to her temple and then down the line of her face and jaw, the touch exploring reverently, savoring an experience she must have thought impossible, with Jocelyn. "Do you know I won't like you less when you're weyrwoman instead of Jocelyn?" There's a small sigh for those words, that touch; Jocelyn's lashes flutter shut for that gentle exploration, cheek leaning into those fingertips. "I had hoped, " she murmurs to that last, mouth curling faintly upward. "I won't like you any less when you disagree with me, " because people don't always agree with one another on everything. Her eyes open after some minutes, refocusing. "What do you want to be reminded of on your bad days?" Other than how much this one cares, says the look that follows. "Good, I'm sure I will, sometimes." Lys can say so now, easily, because it's not a heated moment. "I'm pretty good at not saying my part, unless it's important or unless I'm asked. Irianke used to ask me, sometimes, let me help her with her work sometimes. It made me feel valued even though then I couldn't think what I could possibly offer her." There's a self-conscious smile for that. The return of the question has the blonde thinking, her had finding a comfortable resting place along Jocelyn's side that isn't too personal, but just personal enough. "I'm hoping not to have many that Evy can't handle," she admits, "but," holds its own significance, "I think it would help me to be reminded that we all have our roles to play and that mine isn't the sort that can always see the whole picture. That I have to choose to trust that the people who can and trust that my role is significant somehow, if not important, even if I don't see why spending hours on elevator duty is really so necessary," that last is tinged with humor. It must be time for another question, "How do you want the Harpers to immortalize you? Jocelyn the brave? The beautiful? The reasonable and forward-thinking?" She suggests some options as her hand moves from its temporary perch to seek one of hers to entwine their fingers. "I hope that you don't get to a place where you feel that you can't tell me what you think, " says Jocelyn quietly. "I'll want to know what 'your part' entails. I'm sure that we won't always see the same things, and you will perceive them from a perspective that Aidavanth and I may not. Your thoughts are important, Lys." 'To me' goes unspoken, accompanied eventually by the silent shake of a laugh for the necessity of elevator duty. "Demonstrating yet again that we all need to help one another to survive, I suppose, " is her all-too practical musing. That sought hand is easily found, fingers lacing almost immediately with hers. "I'd rather not be immortalized, " the weyrling grumbles with a roll of her eyes, "just as I'd rather not book an appointment at Weaver Hall for a time no doubt filled with all sorts of measurements, fabrics and other things that shouldn't be important." Round one with the weyr's weavers was apparently just the beginning. "But if I must do the latter, I suppose the former is inevitable enough. Let's hope there's no need for them to harp, " pun intended, "on any bravery I might have to exhibit. If they are able to someday write of me as Jocelyn the just, " but even for that there's a distinctive face, features scrunched into dislike for the high-brow nature of it all, "I suppose I won't take a flamethrower to their account." No promises on those other things, apparently. There's a warm, amused smile for what Jocelyn says about the unavoidable nature of becoming immortalized and a quiet laugh for the terrible pun, but the blonde doesn't respond to anything until the goldrider's finished speaking. "I don't think I would. There will probably be times I tell you and you don't want to know, and times I don't tell you when you do. We'll have to figure out if we can trust each other's judgment about when those times should be." Lys' tone is earnest, but there's a smile that sort of says she trusts they can work it out, somehow. "And sometimes I won't need to say what I think at all, because you'll already know, like being immortalized. A three line blurb at least," all the goldriders seem to have at least that in the history books, right? "Just," Lys says the word thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's what K'del hoped would be written of him when he put Aishani's father to death for the thefts from the Weyr. Just sounds like a very hard road," she adds, looking at the goldrider soberly, "but if anyone could do it, it would be you and Aidavanth." She believes that. "And-" this is the least of things she could say here, but it apparently warrants saying, "Going to WeaverCraft and having your measurements taken can be really nice. I got to go once. H'vier was buying me a swimsuit that fit and wouldn't embarrass V'ros for when I got to go to my very first beach," she recalls, expression growing sad and eyes closing while she masters her grief. Appreciation brightens Jocelyn's features, and those fingers so entwined give an affectionate, little squeeze to Lys's hand. "Between your work history and our intent to be trustworthy to one another, I don't anticipate we'll run into too many issues." There's a considering sort of noise for the example pulled from local history; 'just' is, indeed, a difficult path. "Do people tend to wonder how they'll be remembered when they're making those kinds of decisions? I'd like to think that the primary concern in such a scenario will be for how this affects the weyr at large, rather than any reflection it might have on which adjective the harpers choose for one dragonrider." But then there's Lys's reminiscence of a trip to Boll and mention of H'vier, and the redhead frowns for the other weyrling's sadness, head tipping forward to rest gently against the other's forehead. Of H'vier, "I didn't know him personally beyond having met him all of once, " she says, low, "but his - Reisoth's - was the first death I felt because I had Aidavanth. I won't forget that." Her free hand, having been resting companionably beneath the greenrider's shoulders, shifts to rub tentative, light circles there in an only slightly awkward gesture that's likely meant to be comforting. Further words might not be forthcoming for a time, as she lapses into silence, steadily present. Lys sighs softly at the closer contact. "H'vier was an asshole, but he was my friend and it's still hard sometimes. Evy helps. You're helping." It's slower that she admits, "When Zmeyth went between, I didn't even associate it with V'ros. We hadn't talked in a while and I'd sort of stopped associating Zmeyth's name with him. I mean, we were never really close, but we were sort of friends. Tried to be. It never seemed to work, you know? But I still knew him. I hadn't had any personal losses to the plague, til him." Her brow furrows a little and she shakes her head very very slightly, the motion more easily felt than seen with the way their foreheads are touching. "It's funny," she changes the topic abruptly, how some people just never click and others seem 'made for each other'." She looks into the goldrider's eyes, "Like my work history and how your life has shaped up to be. Seems a little bit like maybe--" they had been. "I'm glad that you didn't get sick." Jocelyn's statement is almost a whisper, but the way her hands firm for a moment, the way she nudges their embrace a bit tighter, says much of the feelings behind it. Eyes more blue than gray study Lys's in the wake of her subject change, forehead puckering slightly in gentle disbelief. "I'd never have believed that anything was 'meant to be' before my Impression. It's hardly a logically-based conclusion, " but feelings aren't logical, no matter how much the redhead may try to square them into neat checkboxes. "But harper tales never did seem to make sense. Maybe there's little point to figuring out the whys and hows of these things. We're here, now, and this is - " There, the curve of a small, somewhat shaky smile, "Precious. You are, that is." And she might be talking too much, gaze drifting to the other's mouth again, then back up to her eyes. There's no verbal response for the first, but Lys presses into the goldrider's tighter hold, the sentiment agreed and probably reciprocated. "I never put much stock into things like that either; my life never made sense that way. There was never a reason for why my parents gave me up, why my fosterparents did after them or a thousand other whys that come from growing up in the caverns. Evyth could explain all that, I suppose. I know she was supposed to find me. She knows that too, but it's not like that for everyone, or so they've heard. "Being here with you makes me wonder if it's so and I've just missed the explanations for the whys of my life." It's said quietly, sincerely. Then shyly, "You know, you can kiss me when you want to. I like it." Jocelyn's expression turns fond for their lifemates. "If there's such a thing as the right place and the right time, their timing probably couldn't have been better. I almost turned my knot in before they hatched." And she's glad she didn't, no doubt. She exhales a sigh for that permission to press her lips to Lys's again; softness, warmth, emotion are all wrapped up in the way she applies her newly-growing knowledge of what the blonde enjoys with an earnest focus. "Me too," Lys replies with a chagrinned smile at the memory. "Evyth told me she would've found me anyway and it was alright that I was scared. Aidavanth's hatching was... I almost ran." It's good Jocelyn didn't, of course. That's all there's time for, though, before that kiss, and the blonde seems to have no interest in interrupting it to ask another question, just yet. She lets her hands explore this time, not immodestly, but along Jocelyn's neck, across her shoulder, down her arm and even into her hair, as if her hand is memorizing the lines of the goldrider's body without help from her closed eyes. A soft sound escapes Jocelyn for those memorizing hands. She even relaxes more into the kiss after another series of inhale-exhales; Lys finds a spot somewhere between neck and shoulder that elicits a shakier breath and prompts her own hands to blaze some trails of their own. She's careful to keep her touches reciprocal - neck, shoulders, arms and if her fingertips linger upon pulse points, well. Perhaps that's to reassure her that the greenrider is, indeed, having a favorable experience - or perhaps it's an experimental attempt to enhance it. In either case, she eventually has to surface for air, eyes regarding the other steadily, if half-lidded. "Lys." Her name is given the same reverence that one might inject into three other words. Lys wasn't looking for that spot, nor does she abuse it once she's found it, though her hand does come back to it more than once while the kissing goes pleasantly on, and no doubt its existence is filed away in case it should prove useful on another occasion. "Joce," holds as much fond feeling as yearning. The blonde's eyes close and she takes a handful of slow measured exhales to slow her racing heart and her quickened breath. She opens her eyes, to look at the goldrider, a flush in her cheeks and small smile on her lips. "We don't have to rush any of this, this part, I mean. Well, none of it, really, but this part especially." It's a little bit of a babble, but then she's nervous so perhaps she may be forgiven. "But I don't know how-- much of what feels right for you." Jocelyn's focus remains intent even while they aren't kissing, gaze sweeping from Lys's to take in those flushed cheeks, that smile, learning and enjoying the visuals that her hands can't exactly map. "No, " she agrees, "we don't." And she's still getting comfortable with this, even if she permits some of her own yearning to come to light while she cups a palm gently to the blonde's cheek. "But with all of this - sharing, talking and otherwise, there will come a time where I - " She pauses, swallows, tries again. "If we're both ready - when we're both ready - I won't be able to turn you away. I want, " a breath, "I need the closeness. As much as we can have, at that time, if, of course, that's something you'd wish to share. If it would - make you happy, too." Nervous, party of two. "I would," doesn't take any thought and the words hold eagerness that cuts through her nerves. "I'm... there's no rush, truly," Lys feels the need to say. "No deadline, not for us." Does she understand? "It's probably going to sound awful or stupid, but... Evy's going to rise before Aidavanth and wanted to make sure I wasn't going in blind, but also that I didn't rush us to something that meant something that we might not be ready for." Perhaps it's because Lys probably is amazed to have come so far as making out a little already. Who would imagine that self-contained Jocelyn could be drawn out so readily? She pauses there, but her look says 'there's more.' "Us, " Jocelyn echoes, and nods slowly, pleased. "I like the sound of that, " she admits, cheeks coloring more than they already have with their shared closeness. "It doesn't sound awful, and it certainly doesn't sound stupid. You've been worried. I worry about what it'll be like when Aidavanth's ready, even if that's still at least a turn away." Hopefully! "But this - is helping, " oddly enough. The goldrider isn't the most socially adept, but she does eventually recognize that expectant look of one still waiting to speak. A bit sheepishly, then: "Continue. Please." "Joce-" is an attempt to interrupt, but a quiet one. "Now," does she understand the significance of that? After what they've shared so far. "I think we'll be ready to have that experience together before Evy rises, but I needed the peace of mind of knowing for certain I wouldn't end up hurting someone, and I didn't want to put that pressure on us, so I asked someone with a reputation to be a backup plan if I needed it. I don't have feelings for her, I just don't want to hurt someone in a flight." That much she makes sure she articulates carefully as if she could infuse each word with its own veracity. "I needed to tell you. I want-- I want always to be honest with you, as much as I can. There may be secrets that aren't mine to tell, you know? But when it comes to me, I just-- I want you to know me. The good and the bad and the worse." She exhales having said that, suddenly looking anxious. Jocelyn listens silently, carefully rearranging her stance so that she can take at least one of Lys's hands by the time she finishes speaking. "Planning for as many eventualities as possible isn't a bad thing in any situation." It isn't unkind; it's a deliberately light statement, and the redhead lifts one shoulder in a brief shrug afterward. "You can't be faulted for doing what you think is best, particularly when the situation is about you." There's a quick, chaste press of lips to cheek before she continues - kisses for honesty, still on special. "I want to know you, too. And I'd like for you to know me, " however complicated of a thing that is. "If we stay honest and keep talking, that seems the most efficient path to finding our way, as it were, " she reasons. If Lys's anxiety is for censure, there isn't any to be found here. There's relief for Jocelyn's understanding and Lys' tension melts away. "I won't do anything with that backup plan unless it seems necessary," she feels the need to say, to assure. So there's months before that might be. Now she moves to nuzzle her face against Jocelyn's neck, kissing here, nibbling a little there. "Why don't you tell me about what it was like for you, growing up in the caverns, and then I'll tell you my version," probably heavily redacted this time, "while we watch for the first star. I don't want to miss it. I need to make a wish." The goldrider shouldn't need to ask what that wish might be given the starry-eyed way the greenrider is looking at her now. "You should protect and act in your best interests, " Jocelyn replies gently of utilizing the backup plan, but there's a little smile for her nonetheless, one that reshapes into a rounding of her mouth for an unsteady exhale in the wake of this very new contact. She has to clear her throat before she can begin her account, expression soft for Lys's lovely eyes. "My earliest friend was named Flopsy. He keeps Farideh's son company, these days, but he's in most of my first memories, fuzzy as they are." She doesn't linger overly long on the tale of the stuffed sheep, describing her communal upbringing, enjoying harper lessons, working her way through odd jobs and standing for the first time for Ysavaeth and Cadejoth's clutch. It's enough to fill the time until the first stars become visible - and given the way she gently squeezes Lys's hand when they do, maybe she's making the same wish, too. |
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