Difference between revisions of "Logs:No"

When Tayte answers the door, she's puffy eyed. It's been a bad day for pregnant lady hormones. She can't quite not sniffle when a hand goes self-consciously up to rub across her face. It has to count for something that she seems, even if on an unconscious level, to care what H'vier thinks of her appearance. "Havi," is also encouraging, since it's sort of on the soft side of neutral and it's Havi, not H'vier. She doesn't, of course, open the door for him to come in, but she's not throwing things or screaming, so that has to be progress, right? (Or just hormones.)

H'vier was agitated when Tayte first opened the door. But the puffiness of her eyes and the way she says his name brings him down a few notches from where he started out. Enough not to snap at her, at any rate. "Tayte? Is everything okay?" This time when he looks at her belly, he's noticeably worried.

"No," Tayte sniffs again, turning away from the door and vanishing from sight. The door is left invitingly(?) ajar in her wake as she made no move to close it. The sight, should he dare to come past the door is familiar from the days of Tavi's womb-occupation. Tayte never starts out meaning to make a nest of all her favorite clothes that no longer fit, but that's invariably how it ends up. The blonde is already resuming her place in the midst of the pile, looking sadly at one of her favorite blue dresses. Woe!

The bronzerider lingers near the open door. He's not often uncertain about things in his life, but things involving Tayte are often full of uncertainty. Especially now. H'vier comes in, closing the door behind him. The paper in his hand is forgotten for the moment as he takes in the scene with slightly furrowed brows. "What are you doing?" That's mostly rhetorical since he can see well enough. "Should you be moving around so much?" Surely making clothes-nests requires some amount of activity.

"The baby is fine." Tayte makes a face. "If you're only here to care about her, you can just go away again." She goes back to fingering the dress and making very sad faces at it. "I'm huge," she complains. "I don't even fit in what I wore when I was pregnant with Tavi." So she must obviously now be a behemoth.

He could protest her minor accusations but H'vier decides not to. He can be a mature adult sometimes. "Baby, you're beautiful. You'll fit into everything again as soon as she's here. And even if you don't, you'll still be the most beautiful woman I know." Which might have sounded way better when they were together, maybe.

Tayte tries to give him a dirty look. Only, with the puffy eyes and the way she so needs to hear that kind of bullshit right now, she doesn't really sell it. She sighs and lets go of the garment, looking at the bronzerider. "You didn't come about my waistline." Though it's little wistful, maybe she would rather if he had. "She's doing fine. We'll be back on bedrest soon, about a month before the birth or so." Or the ideal time for the birth. Hopefully the baby will oblige them in waiting. "Was there something else you wanted?" She sounds tired, and her ocean gaze is heavy as it stays settled on the bronzerider that she still hasn't thrown out or attempted to maim.

There was something else he wanted, but now that they've had this small moment, H'vier seems less willing to present it. He glances at the paper in his hand, considering, then simply moves to hand it over to Tayte. He doesn't explain how he has it or anything like that, but he'll put a little bit of distance between them while she reads it, crossing his arms and watching her carefully.

She blinks at it a moment before taking it from him. Tayte certainly doesn't miss the fact that the seal has been broken and after she opens it enough to see the handwriting, H'vier gets a wide-eyed look. Still, before saying anything she reads it. And a second time. Then folds it up and leans to carefully put it on her nightstand. "Are you going to tell me why you have my letter from my parents?" Given that the meeting between Mikaelen and H'vier did not go well, it's practically certain that he didn't give it to H'vier.

H'vier ignores the question to ask one of his own. "You're not accepting that, are you?" Somehow, he avoids telling her that she's not, even if that's probably what he came here to do in the first place.

Tayte regards him unhappily. "You're not to care whether I do or not," she informs him. "You said you wouldn't interfere and wanted me to be happy." She waves the twice-opened correspondence in the air slowly. "This is interfering." In case he didn't know.

"An arranged marriage is interfering. You're a grown ass woman, Tayte. Do you even know this guy?" There's some of H'vier's more typical spark back where it belongs. "How could you possibly be happy with that?"

"It is, but my parents didn't say they wouldn't interfere. It's practically the job of parents to interfere." Tayte sets the letter aside. "But you can stop working yourself up. I kissed him once when I was eleven and he shoved me into a mud puddle. So, no. I wouldn't be happy with that." Beat. "I have, however, been made an offer. By someone back at the Hall." Her gaze doesn't move away from him as she says evenly, "And I'm considering it."

"An offer?" They're talking about arranged marriages so forgive H'vier for being a little suspect of other offers. "Are they going to give you your knot back?" To his credit, the bronzerider doesn't seem terribly riled by the news. Maybe he's just still happy that she's not planning on accepting a marriage proposal.

Tayte flushes. Red. Because, "Not a professional offer." She does, in fact, mean, "A marriage proposal." Now she looks away, to her hands, then her very pregnant belly beneath them.

That clarification has clearly flipped a switch in H'vier's demeanor. He's tense now, oddly still, and staring at Tayte in a way that's probably not very comforting. "And?" is all the spoken response he can make happen.

Looking back to H'vier makes Tayte look away again, the color deepening in her cheeks. "And I'm considering it," is spoken very, very softly.

His gaze stays fixed on Tayte, jaw tense and body language on edge. H'vier doesn't say anything else after she repeats those words, but he's keeping a particular distance from her, out of arm's reach, and that can't be an accident. Finally, he says, very simply, "Okay."

The look she gives him when she finally does look up is surprised. Maybe there's hope for his temper yet. Tayte's voice is still quiet when she speaks, "I don't love him." The man that must have given this proposal. "I'm just... I feel lost, Havi. I don't know where I belong anymore, or where I could be happy. Being here is hard. Even if I asked them to stop bringing me word of you," and she has asked, "I would still hear things, or wonder every time someone brings my laundry or serves me a drink if you've diddled her too, if you liked it more than being with me. If I meant--" Here she cuts off because sentiment like that is known to enrage him. She sighs softly. "Why don't you talk to her." She suggests instead. The her within.

H'vier could probably talk about love and how that changes things no matter who he diddles, but he doesn't. Not right now. Her moving on is what he wants, isn't it? That's the idea, certainly. But it's probably not the reality. Instead, he looks at her belly as he asks, "What do you want me to talk to her about?" He's slightly more relaxed now as he moves closer, though he's tentative, silently asking for permission, before he actually reaches to lay a hand on the swell.

"Anything you like. It's not about me, is it. It's between you and her." Tayte answers as simply as other things that have been said today. A slight nod answers silent request for permission. The blonde even goes so far as to nudge her nest aside to make room for her to slide more toward the center of the bed and lean back on the pillows, leaving him room to settle on the edge if he likes.

The bronzerider settles on the edge of the bed as his hand slides gently against her belly. More gently than his tension a few moments ago should really warrant. But there's something about Tayte carrying his daughter that drains all the fight out of him. H'vier moves his hand to slip under against skin, considering in silence before saying anything. "I know we haven't spent much time together but in case I don't get to tell you once you're here," because Tayte has moved away to be with some other man, "I love you and your sisters and your mother in ways that I've never loved anyone before and will probably never love anyone again." He glances up toward the blonde's face, which might suggest he's not just talking to the baby she's carrying.

Tayte... wasn't prepared for that. She was prepared for a lot of things. For him to talk about sweeps, or the weather, or any of the other things he'd spoken to Tavi about when they were in a similar place. Even, she was prepared for him to speak of his love for the baby, but not that. By the time he glances up there are tears slipping down her cheeks, though the blonde's expression is a little stunned. Should it be so surprised? Perhaps not. Maybe it's just the hormones? She could pretend. She can't find any words, so she just looks and looks and does not look away.

H'vier lifts the hand from her belly up toward her face to wipe at one of the wet streaks on her cheek. "I know you don't believe me. But I would do anything to keep you safe. To keep them safe." The girls, presumably. "And I want you to be happy with whoever you can find happiness with, even if I spend the rest of my life hating him for being able to give you something that I never could."

Tayte finds words. They're words she shouldn't find. A question so small and pleading that very obviously shouldn't be asked, "Why can't you?"

"Because I'm a selfish dick and you were always way more than I ever deserved." Which is kind of a non-answer, but sounds nicer than the more explicit truth. H'vier draws his hand away, leaning against his other alongside her while he looks at her like this is how he always wants to remember her.

Well, that was not the 'fixes everything' answer Tayte was hoping for, so she does the only thing she can: she cries.

There can be no doubt that H'vier recognizes why that might make her cry, even without taking into account the hormones of her current state. But it doesn't keep him from saying, "Tayte," in a way that's both apologetic and pleading. "Don't cry, baby."

"I can't help it," is managed between sobs. "You're supposed to be the love of my life, H'vier, not the ruin of it." Quite the charge for Tayte to lay on him, but... does he deserve ought else?

He probably doesn't think he deserves less than that, so, while he does look a little hurt for a moment, it's probably not long enough for Tayte to notice it. H'vier shifts, trying to settle himself down next to her and wrap his arms around her while she cries. If she lets him, he's probably willing to stay there for awhile.

Today, she'll let him. Today, she's in mourning for a dream of happiness that seems to slip farther and farther from the reality they face every time they talk, perhaps today especially. Of course, there's no way that it helps things that somewhere in the midst of wetting his shirt with her tears, she's shifting to try to kiss him, needily.

There are some things that H'vier has a really difficult time saying no to. Kissing Tayte is somewhere at the top of that list. Which is to say that he kisses her back with an earnest sort of fervency, as though to make up for all the time they haven't been kissing or touching or even on talking terms. He should have refused. Maybe he should even stop now. Instead, he groans against her mouth.

Yeah, this is going to be added to the list of bad decisions Tayte has made in H'vier's company. She's probably not even thinking about how much it will hurt later, or even if there might be risks involved. She's not technically on bed rest now, so that's okay, right? She doesn't say no, doesn't stop it, doesn't probably even think at all. All she wants to do, all she will do, if not stopped, is strip free of her clothes and make love to him, clothing nest or no clothing nest (which is a testament to just how single-minded her focus is just now).

There is almost nothing that H'vier wants more right now than to go along with Tayte's obvious desires. And it would be so easy to go along with them. He almost does. Almost. But once it comes to his pants getting undone, he makes a frustrated sound and then says, "We can't do this. Faranth, I want to so bad, baby, I'm sorry. But we can't." These might be the hardest words H'vier has ever said to anyone ever.

"Please," she whimpers softly, begging. She'll hate herself later for that, for sure, but perhaps less than if they do this. Still Tayte's hands are trying to move on his pants, to slip past his larger hands that have come to impede her progress.

Nope. These are the hardest words H'vier has ever said to anyone ever, "Tayte, baby. No. We can't do this. You aren't thinking straight." Because that's ever mattered! The fact that he wants to is obvious in both his voice and his body, but the bronzerider starts withdrawing, pulling away to rise up onto his feet and put some distance between them even if he doesn't immediately go for the door.

If he's going to go, he'd better go, because Tayte is just going to cry again, more now, but at least this time she's curled around a pillow in which she can bury her face, even if this many months pregnant, she can't throw herself down into them.

H'vier doesn't want to go, but it doesn't seem as though him staying is going to make anything better. In fact, it will probably make things worse. So he hesitates, looking at Tayte uncertainly, and then he turns to let himself out, closing the door with great care behind him.