Bot: Text replace - "HRW Clutch 37" to "Clutch 115"

2016-01-21T20:56:21Z

Text replace - "HRW Clutch 37" to "Clutch 115"

K'del at 04:28, 19 April 2015

2015-04-19T04:28:25Z

K'del: 1 revision imported

2015-04-19T04:14:48Z

1 revision imported

Roz at 19:29, 18 April 2015

2015-04-18T19:29:28Z

New page

{{Log
|who=Farideh, Drex
|what=Farideh and Drex say their goodbyes, and the L word.
|where=Broom Closet, High Reaches Weyr
|day=25
|month=7
|turn=37
|IP=Interval
|IP2=10
|gamedate=2015.04.17
|quote="I can become a fisherman. You can cook fish for us. We can open a tavern and make fun of the drunk locals."
|mentions=Itsy, Laine, Rafevan
|type=Log
|ooc=NSFW! Adult themes, language, a few sexual/explicit references, etc etc.
|icons-new=Icon farideh hug.jpg, Icon drex thoughtful.jpg,
|log=Morning of the twenty-fifth is like any other day in the Weyr, but the ripple of excitement and tension that moves through the lower cavern is completely attributed to the imminent hatching. It's a good day to be a candidate - with normal chores suspended and the expectation of at least ''some'' of them leaving the sands with new dragons - and Farideh's taken advantage of the change of pace. She manages, in all of the chaos, to find Drex and lure him out into the tunnels, though she's not yet divulged her plan, as she drags him by the hand, occasionally laughing back at him or smiling impishly as she goes. Her end point seems to be one of their favored broom closets, which she quickly ducks into, once she's made sure no one has seen her, and attempts to pull him with, all protests barred.

Drex, never a big fan of crowds, and unbothered by the excitement that has everyone else rushing around in preparation, looks pleased -- both that Farideh grabs in, and that she pulls him somewhere quieter. Her impish looks are at first taken for granted, but the further they go, the more a wariness creeps into the sailor's expression, though this fades soon enough once he recognizes where she's leading him. "Fari--" he attempts a conversation at one point, but really -- he's a boy and he's pretty sure where this is headed, so he lets her pull him into the closet, shutting the door soundly behind him as he reaches a hand towards her neck to draw her closer.

The conversation initiation earns a puzzled look, but once they're ensconced in the preferential closet and he's pulling her close, she looks up at him with a delighted expression and bright eyes. "It's ''today''," is probably not the response he is looking for, but Farideh at least leans into him, her arms lifting to encircle his neck to where her hands are linked behind it. "Are you going to ''watch''? Wish me ''good luck'' at least?" So, it's ''definitely'' not going where he's thinking; still, she looks positively ''luminous'' just talking about the upcoming event. "I'd like it if you ''were''."

"Mmhmm, wishing you good luck right now." Apparently ''good luck'' in pirate speak involves things like less clothing, given the way in which Drex is attempting to pull her top off, and this is thwarted by both her desire to ''talk'', not to mention the conversation itself. ''He'' doesn't seem near as excited about the hatching as her -- quite the opposite, in fact, and with an exhale of breath, settles for looping hands around her waist. There might just be the little wiggle of fingers in the waist of her pants as a distraction while he answers. "Aint much for big do's. You wouldn't even know if I were there."

Either she's that obtuse or she's purposefully ignoring what he's trying to do; it's more than likely the latter but there's no telling with how she tips her head to the side and smiles like they're not having a one-sided conversation. "What do you mean I ''wouldn't know''? Of course I'd know. You can ''see'' people from the sands, and maybe you can ''wave''," is offered helpfully, but Farideh's smile is more amused on his behalf than anything. She wiggles her hips against him and tightens her arms, giving a little, dreamy sigh. "What if it really ''happens''? Won't that be ''something''?"

The fact that she's ignoring what he's doing is, in Drex's books, some sort of tacit approval. His fingers are rough where they brush against her skin, wriggling under her shirt to press against her back in an exploratory way. That hip-wiggle earns a grunt in return, eyes narrowing a bit. "If I say I'll go, can we fuck? I'd really, really like to do that right now."

His bluntness causes the brightness to fade, her smile to wane and eventually disappear. "Do you ''have'' to be crude?" Farideh looks less than pleased, and her hands even untwine so they can drop down to her hips. "You want to do that ''here'', ''now''? What if the eggs start hatching and we're too busy having sex to notice?" She purses her lips unhappily, and tries to take a step back, which would inevitably bring her up against the shelves in this too small broom closet.

Drex gives a sigh, letting hands fall loosely to his sides, and letting her retreat unimpeded. The fact that he folds arms across his chest is probably more an attempt not to reach out for her than defensiveness. "You're going to go off and get a dragon, and be different, and forget about the dirty sailor you used to sneak off into closets with. Of ''course'' I want to do that now. I always want to do that with you, and it might be our last chance, ''forever''." Not that he's being dramatic or anything.

That Farideh hasn't started yelling or just left in a huff is certainly progress, but her expression is openly belligerent while she ''listens'' to say his piece. "Be different? Who says I would be ''different''? You could be, too, if you would have ''accepted''," she says, as she studies him in a narrowed way. "And," it's her turn to sigh dramatically, her eyes flitting off to some odds and ends on one of the shelves, "who says I even ''will''? Then, it will be ''you'' going off to have adventures on your stupid boat, and ''I'll'' be the one stuck on land."

"''Everyone''." Drex unfolds his arms to tug a hand through his hair. "After you said you were gonna stand, I... I asked around. Everyone I spoke to says it ''changes'' you." A beat of scowling stare, while he says, "I ''like'' current Farideh. A lot."

"''A lot'' changes that doesn't matter. They teach you how to care for a ''dragon'', and you get stronger, and I guess ''braver'', but I don't think--" Farideh pauses, glancing back at Drex. "Not ''who you are''. I'm still going to be Farideh whether I do or don't. You'll just have to trust that and if you ''don't''--" She doesn't finish that statement, letting it hang between them instead, while her cheeks tinge pink. "A lot? How much is ''that''?" seems to be a safer topic, a safer zone.

"Aint what everyone says. People say it makes you a different person." Drex retorts. It's her latter question that makes him go still. And that scowling turns into something deeper, like Drex has suddenly realized this is a conversation he doesn't want to have. "I don't know. Aint like I know how to say this sort of stuff. I just like you, ''ok''?" And also shut up please, because he's pushing away from the wall and preparing to take a leaf out of the girl-stomping-exit playbook.

"I don't care what everyone else says. Since when do you even ''care'' what everyone else says," is disgruntled, frustrated, but when he's trying to push away and leave, Farideh reaches out a hand to grab his. She's sighing, looking plaintive, if he decides to look back instead of leave. "Don't go. I don't want to ''fight'' today, of all days. It's supposed to be a good day. It might not have gone off like in my head, but-- can we start again?"

She has a point, and it shows on the surprised -- and frustrated -- look that Drex gives her. It's natural that his eyes go towards her when she grabs his hand, and it stops him, and, after a moment, he steps close and pulls her into an embrace. He buries his head against her hair, breathing deeply, and mutters into her hair, "Just how ''did'' it go in your head?"

When he pulls her into the embrace, Farideh's arms automatically wrap around his torso and her cheek presses into his chest, where she can talk without looking him in the face; which is for the best, really. "I thought you'd be happy for me, and wish me good luck. You'd tell me you'd come back and that you loved me, even if it was a lie." She pauses at the end, and only presses closer. "I'm a ''little'' scared, but everyone says they don't ''try'' to hurt you, it's just if you get in the way. Everything will be fine-- it ''has'' to be."

Drex is silent for such a long moment it seems like he might not even speak. "I'm happy if this makes you happy. I won't need to wish you luck because this is what you want, and I know you'll get it, even if that makes me a bit sad, too. Because I do love you... I ''will'' miss you, and I ''will'' come back." He pulls back enough that he can see her expression. "Just... run really fast if one comes towards you. Or... hide behind someone you don't like as much," he's grinning in a way that is probably joking, but then... he's a pirate. He might ''not'' be joking at all.

There isn't a sense of alarm, but a patiently ''waiting'', of taking the time to simply ''hold'' while there's still time left. Her face is a picture of astonishment when he pulls back and she looks up at him, though from the former and not the later words. "Really?" is Farideh's first reply, quiet, and then with a frown and a wrinkle to her brow, "Yesia. I'll stand behind ''Yesia''. She's ''horrible'' and it would serve her right to get trampled by a dragon." That seems to suffice, for now, while she chews on her lower lip, her eyes lowering again.

Drex isn't exactly used to Farideh in shy-and-retiring mode, and it's obvious he reads something into the reaction, whether it's correct or not, given his hold on her loosens noticeably. "Aint gonna say goodbye. Just go. I think that's best."

''More'' surprise, and unavoidable hurt, since her expression is already open and vulnerable. "What? Why?" Despite his loosening, Farideh compensates, and tries to pull him closer again, to smoosh her face back into his chest. "I don't want to go ''yet''. Can't you just hold me a little longer? And tell me you love me again? I ''might'' not see you again and I-- I'm sorry." She sighs. "I'm not very good at goodbyes. I haven't said them ''often''--" ''Ever''?

"I aint any good at goodbyes, either," Drex confesses, relenting after she tightens her hold, his own arms tightening around her again. "Only person I'd ever care to say it to before was Itsy, and we're always together." He does hesitate at saying it again, frowning into her hair.

It's after a silent stretch of standing like that, with her arms around Drex, that Farideh ''finally'' takes her cues to say the actual ''words''. "And I ''love you''," is heavy with emotion, if spoken in soft tones. She doesn't ''argue'', doesn't release her hold. "I don't think I can say goodbye Itsy ''too'', but-- ''try'' not to do anything ''too'' stupid, the both of you. I won't be around to tell you just how stupid or rude you're being," and that's ''important''.

And, now, Drex squeezes her more, lifting her entirely up off her feet in a fierce bearhug. "Won't promise," he says, on the matter of being ''not stupid'', "Might forget without you to remind me." He eases her down to the floor soon after, and leans in to press lips against hers.

A laugh bubbles up when he lifts her off her toes and lingers in the curve of her wide smile, even after he's set her back down. "After all the hard work and yelling I've done? That easily?" sounds purposefully sullen, but Farideh's as easily distracted by the welcome retreat of his lips on hers, of her body eagerly pressing against his in response.

"Can't teach an old seadog new tricks," Drex replies laughingly. "Old habits, and all that." And then he's responding to her response, deepening the kiss and pressing her back against the shelf in his eagerness.

All that talk earlier, of eggs hatching while they're in the horizontal position, was probably bluffing, because Farideh doesn't seem bothered by being backed into that shelf or being firmly distractedly by Drex's attentions ''now''. Rather, she ''encourages'' them, and even words seem to fail. There's no more protests, just her hands trying to pull up the back of his shirt, to get the real ''goodbye'' started.

Drex really doesn't need any encouragement, at least not in ''that'' space. He's quick to shed that shirt, and to help her with her clothes, too, seeking the press of skin against hers. It's ''different'', a little, than normal -- still needy, but it's kind of a sad, intent sort of experience, fueled by their pending farewell. And when it's done, and they're lying tangled in discarded clothing, he brushes fingers through her hair, head turned to watch her.

''After'' is as needed as ''during'', to keep that parting longer, and the final farewell farther off. "Hi," is the opposite of ''goodbye'', but it's all she whispers, quietly, while she turns onto her side, head caught in the crook of one arm, her eyes intent on Drex's face. She's soft ''now'', without any traces of her usual quick anger or prissiness, and instead a fond expression and fluidity to her movements, no tension; even in the cramped broom closet.

"Hi," is his response, brow furrowing, as he adjusts his head to better watch her. "You know," Drex says, after a pause, "We could run away somewhere. No dragon for you, no ship for me. Just, I dunno, find somewhere, something. We would probably hate it, but..." it's not exactly a compelling press to elope.

"Okay," lacks any emotion, though her face stays ''soft'', relaxed. "Where would we go? What would we do? How would we eat?" Farideh is subtle in her pressuring, in an insistence for an answer. "I thought you loved the sea and sailing. Wouldn't you miss it? Wouldn't you miss Itsy?"

"I don't know." Drex clearly hasn't thought this through, to judge by the pause that follows. "Maybe somewhere near the coast. I can become a fisherman. You can cook fish for us. We can open a tavern and make fun of the drunk locals. You can slap all the men as they inevitably try to pinch your cute ass."

"Would you be content, as a fisherman? Are you any ''good'' at fishing?" is imbued with laughter, but she sobers somewhat to give it genuine thought. "Where would we get the marks for a tavern? Or are you proposing to build one? I can't even ''cook''." Farideh, putting holes in all of his plans. "Is this ''only'' because you don't want me to stand and Impress? There are better ''ways''--" Then, she frowns, and shifts to move closer, to curl up against his side if he'll let her.

"I've done it before," Drex says, a shade defensively -- enough that it's probably clear he's only familiar with the basics. "Can't be harder than trimming sails in a storm with ten foot waves crashing onto the deck." And now, he makes a frustrated noise. "Can't you just let us be in the moment, have the dream for once?" He frowns at her latter words, but he doesn't answer, subsiding into silence, though he does tighten his hold against her as she curls closer.

"I'm sorry," Farideh sighs, but tips her back to look at him. "It's a nice dream. On the coast? Which coast? Here? Nerat? Southern?" She's ''trying'' to play along, though she's obviously already over-thought the whole thing. "Would we sleep in a room at the top? Just us? Maybe we could see the ocean from there, and Itsy could come visit when she makes port." ''Trying''.

Drex's approving, unvoiced rumble suggests she's doing better at this game. "Could build a dock for her to stay the winter. South would be interesting. You could wear pretty dresses with short hems all the time," he suggests, with a grin that is entirely unrepentant.

"It gets so ''humid'' there," Farideh sighs, which is oddly a complaint. "I ''would'', because you're there--" It sounds awfully like a 'but', even in fairytale scenario land. "Everyone would have to come visit. Laine can come visit Itsy-- they're ''still'' pretending like they don't like each other, you know-- and Rafe can come visit and--" She trails off, to think, and unconsciously brushes her knuckles against her lips while she does so.

Instead of talking, or adding to the fast-crumbling fantasy, Drex just tightens his grip on her, and leans down to kiss her forehead.

Drex's loving gesture is enough to pull her out of her own head, surprised eyes flicking to his face, and there's instantaneous ''sadness''. Her hand lifts, the backs of her fingers brushing against his jawline, briefly, before she leans up to press her lips against his. "One more time?" is Farideh's quiet request against his mouth.

The sailor's response is obvious, in the way he returns her kiss, more urgently, and the way he shifts his weight, rolling over so he's on top, bracing his arms on either side of her. It's a lot easier, this time, since they've already managed to discard all their clothing, and it isn't long before he's slid home and is working up a good rhythm.

It's almost like they have encouragement, a soundtrack, with that sudden noise coming through the walls.

And just like that, despite the head start and their obvious, desperate emotions, everything comes to a halt-- or, Farideh does, at least. Where before she was equally as willing and fervently engaged, moving underneath his body, that noise makes her go perfectly still, and slightly pale. She's ''silent'' at least, until she isn't. "Oh. No. No no no no no. ''No''. '''No''', not now, not-- they're-- they can't--" Then, she's trying to disengage, to disentangle herself from ''him''. "'''Drex'''," is frantic. ''Now''.

Drex hasn't had the ''pleasure'' of experiencing a hatching to date, so he's not sure what that noise is. But he's not so keen on coitus interruptus. "What..?" Farideh's sudden, frantic tone halts his movements, and he rolls off her, staring uncomprehendingly.

The franticness doesn't end ''there'. "They're--" Farideh gnashes her teeth and starts reaching for clothes. She grabs his pants and her shirt at first, then tosses them both down and growls in annoyance. "''That means they're about to hatch''," is her answer, her eyes lifting to Drex for a short moment, before she's back to trying to assemble clothing. While jerking her shirt over her head, she says, muffled through the fabric, "They hum when it's ''time''. It's ''now''." So that he understands, completely.

When she tosses his pants down, Drex grabs for them, but doesn't put them on yet, instead pooling it in his lap. Comprehension flows across his expression, but just because he ''understands'' doesn't mean he's rushing to movement, frustrated dismay written on his expression. After a pause, he reaches for her pants and passes them towards her, watching close-mouthed.

Farideh is too busy glancing this way and that to notice the way Drex is looking so dismayed, though she sighs relief when he hands her the pants. She nearly hops into them, and then pulls on her boots. It's after everything's been accounted for, and she's stopped patting herself down, that she finally settles her anxious hazel gaze on the sailor. ''And then'', and then-- "Drex," she says forlornly, and basically throws herself at him, wrapping her around his neck in a tight embrace. "I love you. Wait for me. Please?"

Drex's return embrace is just as tight, though he says nothing, instead pressing lips against hers for a moment, before he makes a shooing motion. He has uh, some business to take care of before he can make himself presentable.

One last squeeze with her arms and Farideh rises, crossing the short distance to the door, where she pauses to glance back at him with a small amount of ''indecision'' on her face. It disappears just before she slips out; ''gone''.
}}
{{Categories
|Categories=Angst Logs, NSFW Logs, Clutch 37 Logs
}}

@@ Line 106: / Line 106: @@
 One last squeeze with her arms and Farideh rises, crossing the short distance to the door, where she pauses to glance back at him with a small amount of ''indecision'' on her face. It disappears just before she slips out; ''gone''.
-|Categories=Angst Logs, NSFW Logs, HRW Clutch 37 Logs
+|Categories=Angst Logs, NSFW Logs, Clutch 115 Logs
 }}

@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
 {{Log
 |who=Farideh, Drex
 |what=Farideh and Drex say their goodbyes, and the L word.
 |where=Broom Closet, High Reaches Weyr
@@ Line 105: / Line 106: @@
 One last squeeze with her arms and Farideh rises, crossing the short distance to the door, where she pauses to glance back at him with a small amount of ''indecision'' on her face. It disappears just before she slips out; ''gone''.
-}}
+|Categories=Angst Logs, NSFW Logs, HRW Clutch 37 Logs
-{{Categories
 |Categories=Angst Logs, NSFW Logs, Clutch 37 Logs
 }}

← Older revision	Revision as of 04:14, 19 April 2015
(No difference)

Logs:The Dream - Revision history

Bot: Text replace - "HRW Clutch 37" to "Clutch 115"

K'del at 04:28, 19 April 2015

K'del: 1 revision imported

Roz at 19:29, 18 April 2015