Difference between revisions of "Logs:For Want of a Kiss"

The day has come! H'vier and Lycinea agreed on today for them to take a trip to a beach so that Lya could wear her swimsuit for him after they missed their window before Lya's trip to the Healer Hall . Or, well, the reasons might be different from her perspective and H'vier has learned to keep his own to himself by now. The beach that the bronzerider chooses to take her is a private beach. The dark sands would suggest Ista if Lya knew well enough to guess, but there's nothing to suggest any civilization around them. Granted, the jungle surrounding the beach sort of blocks out the view. H'vier leaves Lya to do whatever she wants while he unloads Reisoth and then takes off his straps.

"Are we in Ista?" Lya asks after the by now traditional heaving onto the sand. Fortunately, she hasn't eaten, so its just the awful sound, and no actual substance. And for Reisoth's sake, she's managed to get faster at dismounting so he shan't have to be a party to the unpleasant scene when at all possible. The sands are a bit of a giveaway, but she's not so well travelled as to know. This as she's stripping out of pants into-- shorts. Yep. She's wearing short and a sweetheart neckline blouse. At least so far. The red pattern of the swimsuit beneath can be seen in certain places where the cream colored top and fabric press together on her shoulders, but it's not yet her primary attire; her reasons are definitely different. She's moving to the surf almost immediately to wash her mouth out with the salty water and then stand to look at the horizon.

"Aye. The other side of the island from the Weyr. Good job," sounds like a sincere compliment for her recognition. "I figure if you'd prefer, I can take you somewhere with more people. But I'd rather enjoy this for awhile first." H'vier takes off his shirt almost as soon as Reisoth is unstrapped and moving off toward the water to settle partially in the shallows with his head lowered to rest in the sand. He stays clear of Lycinea, though he watches her as though she's rather interesting. Certainly more interesting than his rider, who he already knows everything about. "Do you want some wine? I figured you'd rather drink that than what I usually drink, so I brought a bottle." Never mind her water, evidently.

"V'ros picked the beach by the Hold," Lycinea tells him, without looking at him, her interest not unlike Reisoth's but directed at the sand, the surf, the horizon, and then she's turning around to look at the jungle. When she turns finally to look at H'vier, it's with a beaming sort of smile, a certain barely concealed excitement and sense of freedom just barely under the surface. "I don't mind here," she answers lightly. She moves to where her satchel and picnic basket were settled. "I don't drink," she says, though she probably has given up hope that it's any kind of reminder at this point; she realizes it must be willful ignoring or forgetfulness at this point. "But that was uncharacteristically thoughtful of you, unless you wanted to get me drunk," in which case it's pretty much on par with what the rumors say about him. She sounds like she's teasing though, so, there's that. She gets out a waterskin of her own and a sandwich. Her stripping down is perfunctory; she doesn't even go slow for him. Instead, her clothes are left in a pile on top of the basket and she's walking, sandwich in mouth, waterskin over one shoulder, and hands pulling her hair free of its sloppy braid as she walks toward the water. So sexy, all of it. The sandwich especially.

"Good," says H'vier of her not minding here. Since he'd really rather not pack up and go anywhere else just yet. "I can be rather thoughtful," he assures her, probably lying, with a shrug that says he's willing enough to drink the wine on his own. But before that, he'll watch her get out of her clothes. He doesn't need her to be sexy about it. She's still nice to look at. "Try not to drown or anything. You might owe me if I have to save your life." Teasing! This is teasing.

"And I can be rather elegant," Lya answers his probably lie with one of her own as if they were exchanging thoughts on the weather. It doesn't seem to bother her in the least that he lies to her. "You mean I'd have to save my marks to buy you something pretty?" She uses the sandwich as if it were a hand to hide her this-is-what-shocked-looks-like mouth. Then she bites it. "I suppose swimming in the ocean must be different than in a lake," she eyes the water thoughtfully and then steps into the shallows where she can wiggle her toes in the wet sand as the waves rush up to cover them before retreating. There's some degree of quiet amazement she doesn't hide (probably because she's unaware of it) when the sand under her feet rushes out with the water. Then, of course, she must step. And step. And step. With each wave, she has to explore this new-to-her phenomenon. By the time she can check her reaction to something more appropriate to the sullen teenager she's supposed to be, her smile is so wide with delight that it's difficult to rein in completely.

"I'm not sure you could afford me." H'vier has had a lot of experience buying off women with pretty things. Which just means he'd probably be incredibly high maintenance himself in the same role. But once her attention has focused on the water, the bronzerider has fallen silent to watch her in a way that's more amused than simply enjoying the view. Not that he's not doing that, too. And for now he'll keep his distance enough to give her space to explore these things that seem to make her smile in ways he can't.

It's probably not that he can't so much as it's pretty much written in the Law of Teenagers that No Teenager Shall Ever Knowingly Be Observed To Be Unmoody And/Or Obnoxious At Any Given Time. Lya is a lot of things, and a rule-breaker is one of them, but the Law of Teenagers is a different matter entirely. Still, she can't help herself. She might as well be a child for all the sense of wonder and excitement she betrays as she makes exploration of the sand, the waves, even squinting up at the cloudless sky from time to time. It isn't for some many minutes later that she actually dares to head into the water in earnest. The waterskin is left a safe (or so she must think; but is that tide coming in? Lakes don't do that.) distance from the water and she gets out to where her thighs are covered. She can't, at this point, help but feel the pull of the undertow as it goes. Perhaps this is why she's now turning back to H'vier to call, "Aren't you coming in?" He is, after all, much larger than she is and probably (she assumes) more stable in the water where she mightn't be able to reach bottom anymore.

"Wasn't planning on it," he calls back to her. Could be that H'vier wasn't planning on giving her much attention at all. Or at least only pay attention to her from a distance. Easier to not want to do things to her that way. "You know how to swim, right?" She must know. Everyone with access to a lake, at the very least, knows how to swim, after all. It's just a thing.

"Of course," Lya calls back, vexed. She looks quickly away and out to sea. She looks and looks but doesn't dare farther. It's some time later when she starts to make her way back toward shore. She didn't even get the suit wet. She's not smiling now, but nor is she betraying expression of her bitter disappointment.

"What're you doing? I thought you were here to do," H'vier looks past Lycinea toward the water with an airy gesture of his hand. Water stuff, obviously. "I thought you wanted to enjoy the beach without your mopey friend around." Now he is moving toward the water, more specifically toward the teenager as she reaches shore.

"Well, now you're my mopey friend." Lya accuses airily, stopping with her hands on her hips where the waves still tickle across her toes. In this case, it must be that mopey simply means uncooperative. "What if I did start drowning and you weren't close enough to save me?" She demands, expression matching her sassiful tone.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not moping. And if you started drowning, Reisoth and I would make sure you didn't die." So nice of them! H'vier keeps coming toward Lycinea and he doesn't really stop once he gets to her. He leans down to sweep her up over his shoulder and keeps on walking out into the water. Nothing could go wrong.

Lya shrieks obligingly. It's what she's supposed to do, right? Well, she does, though it must be from surprise rather than from some actual objection because she only flails a little and then gives up since this is sort of what she wanted, just not precisely how she wanted it.

Being quite a bit taller than the teenage girl, H'vier can walk out far enough that throwing her into the water once he gets there won't have her bottoming out in the sand. And since he's right there, she's probably also unlikely to get swept out to sea.

The teenage girl, upon realizing his purpose has another obliging shriek and a surely ineffective "Don't you da--" before she's shrieking again and then splash beneath the waves. It would serve H'vier right to let him think she drowned, but she's not more competent swimmer than she needs to be to survive the Weyr lake, so she comes up spluttering and then coughing, swimming to him with the intent to cling hold to his arm (or torso if she must to catch her breath. "Uggggh, it burns." Her eyes she must mean. Salt water, bleh!

He'd probably feel bad if she drowned, anyway. "Keep your eyes closed. And don't drink it." Just in case that's not something she already knows. H'vier lets her hang onto him, he probably even enjoys it. "Enjoying the beach?"

Lya squints one-eyed up at him even as she rubs at the closed one (probably making it worse, not better). It might be a trick. "Better than the last time," is her dubious answer. She looks up at him, considering. "Do you miss Ista?"

If there's a trick, maybe it's a long con. Her question makes H'vier look down at her, then up toward the horizon. "Of course I do. I'm not sure if I could come back. But I do miss it." The bronzerider starts moving again, heading a bit further out, whether Lya stays attached to him or not. "You gonna swim or what?"

She does. Lya the barnacle. She looks at him as they move, her grip tightening, for safety reasons, clearly, and then she requests quietly, "Throw me again?" There's a flash of a smile and a look up at him through her lashes, traces of that delight from earlier subtly present in the nearly coy look.

That question makes H'vier look down at her with an arched brow. Really? That's what she likes? "Sure. Come here." Up higher, presumably, since she's already right here. "If you stand in my hands, I can probably get you pretty far." Or at least farther than last time.

"Yeah?" Lya sounds excited by the prospect, not even thinking to check the reaction as she shifts from his arm/side to in front of him, her hands finding his abdomen before looking for his arms under the water so she can place her feet properly. Lya has probably only ever seen people play in the water; this is probably a first.

H'vier is relatively helpful in getting her feet in the right place. And it helps that she's just a skinny little thing. Once she's in position, he suggests she bend her knees and push at the top before he's sending her sailing back into the water.

Lya isn't so skinny, but neither is she large and is still a full foot shorter than H'vier and her only muscles come from her manual labor, so not, by comparison, a great weight. The water helps too, of course. She shrieks, this time with delight as she launches and then there's no coughing when she comes up the second time and she's got a broad smile for him. "Again!" Is her demand. She'll make him do it at least thrice more before she's paddling back to him and this time hooking her arms around his neck in a 'could maybe be a hug, but they're in the water so maybe she's just hanging onto him, but around his neck instead of his arm.' She has a smile for him, a bright one, a delighted one. "Thanks." This seems genuine. This must be his minute of honesty for this trip. "For doing this. It's fun." She seems to mean it all even if the words aren't terribly eloquent.

The fact that H'vier is now a slightly experienced father might be what gives him the patience to keep giving her what she wants. Without asking for more, anyway. When it ends with her arms hooked around his neck, there's a brief moment where one of his arms reflexively moves around her and then releases again. "Any time," he says, a little dismissively despite a brief smile, then he's moving to start heading for the beach again. She might be able to get a ride if she doesn't let go.

Lya is all about the ride. Her arms stay around his neck, and her legs make him a tail as they move toward shore. As the sand rises up beneath them, her arms start to loosen so he won't have to carry her when her weight starts to return to it's un-watered-state.

H'vier doesn't mind her un-watered weight, but he doesn't keep her from trying to get her feet back on the ground. "Don't forget your water or you might lose it as the tide comes in," he tells her. Once she's free, he continues on his way back to the blanket further up the beach to get something a little stronger than water, though not by much regrettably.

"The...?" Surely Lya has heard of the tide. And she looks as she comes out of the surf, but already the skin is gone. "Shit!" There's some obligatory swearing and stamping. Then she's approaching H'vier and his blanket, thumping down on it. At least she's courteous enough to not put her sandy feet on it. She flops back with a little sigh-growl. "My water's gone." In case he didn't know.

H'vier manages not to look smug or anything when Lya joins him on the blanket. Possibly because he's not feeling that way. "Here," he says as he offers her another skin. "It's water." His water. He didn't just bring booze. That's just what he happens to be drinking. "We can head back soon. If you want. Or you can go to Ista Weyr for awhile instead."

Lya is decidedly surprised by the skin being offered her. She gives him a look before taking it. Then she's shifting to settle next to him, such that their thighs can just barely touch. "You know, you're actually a nice guy." She decides. It's like he never tried to force himself on her at all! "Unless maybe you're drunk, and even then, only when you have the wrong ideas," she decides before tilting her head to rest it on his shoulder. It's a little bit tentative but if he goes with it, then the pressure becomes a little more sure as she trusts him with a little more of herself.

His first impulse is to say something contrary to those words. But he doesn't right away, rumbling something to himself instead. It's not until Lya is leaning against him that he says, "You shouldn't think that about me. I'm not a nice guy, Lya." Arguably, a bad guy probably wouldn't warn her about himself. Though it's not much of a warning as he puts it.

She lifts her head and looks up at him. Her blue-green eyes regard him guilelessly. "What do you want me to think about you, H'vier?"

The bronzerider doesn't look down at her. "I don't know. If I wanted you to hate me, I'd've fucked you already. We definitely wouldn't be here." Alone. Though it's possible that part of him is what brought him here instead of a more populated beach in the first place. "But I don't think you should like me, either." Which is unnecessarily complicated for a man like H'vier.

"Sooo... " Lya thinks, "You want me to sometimes hug you, but you don't want me to like it or you?" This is the dubious conclusion she draws. She regards him questioningly.

H'vier is making a valiant effort at not telling Lya exactly what he wants to do with her. Or wants her to do with him. Either way. "Forget it," he says instead of actually answering her question. He lays back along his blanket, tucking one arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

"I don't get you," she sighs, dramatically flopping back on the blanket next to him. The blonde stares at the expanse of blue above them. "Maybe it's because I'm sixteen. Maybe you're just too complicated and mysterious." Lya makes fun of the adjectives as she says them.

"There's nothing to get," H'vier assures her without looking over at her for flopping back beside him. His eyes stay closed and he might just take a nap. Or pretend that he is if he can't manage that. "Tell me when you want to go."

"We can go, if you're bored." The blonde stretches, reaching for something to cover her face while she lets the sun dry the bits of swimsuit that ostensibly cover her. "I don't like being with people who don't actually want to be with me."

The last thing she says makes H'vier growl a frustrated sound. For a big, old dude, he moves pretty quickly and in the next moments, he's over her, hands reaching for her wrists or arms to keep her from wiggling away while he looks down at her sternly. "Lya. Not wanting to be with you is not the problem."

It's instinct to fight back, to wriggle away, only surprise delays it kicking in until she's already pinned. Her reaching for her rumpled shirt to become makeshift eye-cover put them (in)conveniently together above her head when he made his move, so catching her wrists isn't difficult. Lya goes wide-eyed briefly and then her eyes narrow as she half-squints half-glares in that stubborn way of hers. She's ready to fight him (as pitiful and ineffective as she might be) if she has to. She stays silent, waiting. Does she need to fight him? 'Cuz she will!!!

He doesn't do anything completely disgusting right away. Other than what he's already doing. So there's nothing other than that for her to fight yet. H'vier watches her for several moments before letting his weight just barely settle against her. Possibly just to see how she reacts. Or maybe to make it harder for her to get a lucky kick in.

"What are you doing?" Lya knows how to use her words, see? She looks suspicious to be sure, and still ready, should she need to fight him, but she's giving him a chance. This probably speaks volumes for how she feels about him.

"Kiss me." Since that's not likely to be enough for her to actually do it, H'vier adds after a moment, "Kiss me and I'll do whatever you tell me to do for the rest of the time that we're here."

Lya has that moment of "Did he really just say that?" and then he adds to it, and she quick-blinks at him, letting her eyes settle into an even narrower look that makes her eyes barely open at this point. "Do you kiss all your friends?" She asks, followed by, "I'm sixteen." The lie is seamless. And "Why do you want me to kiss you?" Is she ruining the mood with all her questions?

"I've told you before. I don't have friends, Lya." And he certainly doesn't seem to care about her age, there's no reaction to her bringing that up at all. "I want you to kiss me because you're beautiful and I like you. And I figured you'd rather kiss me than let me do what I really want to do with you." Nice guy H'vier.

"H'vier," Lya sounds stern. Two can play at this game! "I am your friend. I'm given to understand that friends don't kiss each other. They do sometimes hug, or hold each other when the occasion arises," or in their particular case, when she's paid to, "But they don't kiss, and they don't fuck." It seems she will ignore his claim of her beauty other than a brief derisive snort. This is her opening barrage. It doesn't hit on any particularly low blow spots that she might be able to make, but Lya would probably rather not fight with her only ride away from a jungle secluded beach in a part of the world she knows almost nothing about.

"Who the fuck says friends don't do any of that?" Maybe this is why H'vier doesn't have friends. Except for Lya? "What's the point of having friends if you don't fuck them? Anyway, I'm not trying to fuck you." Yet. "Have you kissed anyone before?" he asks with a little more of his weight pressing against her. That might not be intentional.

Lya's lips tighten a little more, not quite a purse and definitely not for the purposes of kissing. It's a reaction to either the weight or to his questions, or perhaps just the whole situation. "I kissed Zalmai before he left. It was wet." In not a good way, her tone implies. She sighs, her look turning both frustrated and annoyed. "People have friends so they're not alone," she struggles to find this answer, but it's what she comes up with. "And maybe you don't need that, but I think I do. What I don't need is to be fucking anyone." She tries a soulful sort of look up at him in rebuke, though she's really not very good at it, so...

The bronzerider's grip tightens, not painfully but with forced restraint. He growls through a clenched jaw, looking like he might kiss her, or more, anyway. But then he's pushing himself up all the way to his feet and he steps over her to head toward the jungle surrounding the beach. At least this isn't real abandonment yet. Reisoth is still out there in the water and the jungle probably wouldn't have anywhere clear enough for him to land for some distance.

Lya flinches in automatic reaction to the tightening of his grip. "Havi," she calls. Lya should let him go, but following in the grand tradition of blondes before her, she's up and following. "Wait!" She's not dressed for jungle tramping, "Ouch!" And she trips almost immediately into the brush, sprawling gracelessly onto hands and knees, "Fuck!" That sounds like it hurt!

"Shardit, woman! Go sit the fuck down and give me a few fucking minutes!" H'vier does not sound happy. But he still pauses where he is to look back in her direction. "Are you bleeding?" If she's not bleeding, he'll probably keep walking and she'll just have to wait for him to come back.

"Fuck," is the answer he gets, which probably means yes. Lya's sitting on her rump on the ground, one hand over her knee, but already blood is trickling down her calf. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" And as if that weren't enough, there are tears welling in her eyes.

H'vier could really use an outlet for his feelings right now. But instead he stomps back through the brush to where Lycinea is sitting on the ground. He doesn't look particularly worried, but it's not like blood is that foreign a concept to him. "Can you walk?"

The blonde is keeping her tears in check as much as she can. She's silent a moment looking up at him. Slowly, she shifts to get onto her feet. "Fuck." The answer is only with effort. Even as she finds her feet, she's already reaching out a hand to steady herself on him. She makes a face. "Not really." She manages, biting each word so no sobs escape with them.

"It was stupid to come after me," he tells her. Maybe H'vier thinks that will help somehow. Once she's on her feet as well as she can manage, he leans down to carefully, so she knows it's happening, scoop her up into his arms. He still doesn't look very happy. But he's here and he's taking her back to their little makeshift camp.

"It was stupid of you to storm off," Lya bites back. "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?" She accuses him with no small amount of annoyance, even as her arms go around his neck for the second time today. "Why does it always have to come back to sex with you?" Also annoyed, but her head is leaning against his shoulder even as she glowers darkly at no one.

Complicated probably isn't a word H'vier would use. What he wants is pretty damned simple, truth be told. So he just doesn't answer that part. "Because I have a dick and I like to fucking use it." Does she even want to know more than that? He must figure not because he's silent as he sets her down and reaches for his shirt, and the booze, so he can clean off her wound and get a look at it. All while looking a little pissed off.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Lya half-growls, half-sighs in answer. "If it means that fucking much to you then go ahead and fucking kiss me." See if she cares! (She totally does.) Her arms cross across her chest as soon as she's on the blanket and then uncross as she moves her hands to her knee to get a better look for herself. It's not terribly deep, but it did take a bit of flesh from her and there's more surface area to the scrape. Her palms, too, it proves are scraped and scratched from her fall in the foliage.

"Fuck you," H'vier tells the girl without looking up at her as he tends to what he can with both his limited knowledge and supplies. "Looks like you'll be fine," he adds, getting up again. But this time Reisoth is moving up the beach and H'vier is making for the bronze's straps. So they'll probably all be leaving this time.

Should Lya be blushing? "Oh, what? You don't want to now? Is that it?"s even more annoyed now. "I will never fucking understand any of this avians and vtols bullshit." She's reaching for her clothes, stretching across the blanket to get them, with every intent to yank them on as soon as she's got hold of them.

H'vier doesn't dignify her annoyance with any sort of answer. Reisoth watches her while his rider puts his straps back on. Unfortunately dragons aren't known for being particularly expressive of face and, other than the calm whirl of his faceted eyes, Reisoth probably wouldn't be even if they were. Once the straps are in place, H'vier is coming back to pack things up without paying the girl any significant attention.

Lya doesn't care. Or she's acting like she doesn't. Nevermind that she has to rub her eyes every few moments as she shoves her legs into first shorts then pants over top then the sweetheart neck blouse and finally her coat before collecting her bag and her basket. Obviously with all this motion and the swimming before, she must've gotten something in her eye!

The bronzerider might not be paying her any attention, but his damned dragon is. H'vier grumbles something under his breath before he's growling at the dragon outright, "I don't care. Shut up. Are you ready?" The last must be directed to the girl.

"Yes," is emphatic but her voice breaks as she gets it out and she bites her lip, looking away. "I am so over beaches," is a mutter to no one. "And turndays. And everything to do with them." Also to no one. Lya's cheeks are pink still, maybe she got too much sun.

"You and me both," says H'vier, not necessarily to Lycinea so much as in agreement. Because there's totally a difference. Once everything is on the dragon, H'vier will at least also help the girl up instead of leaving her behind, which might cross his mind. And then they'll go home. Where he's liable to drink a lot and pass out in his weyr.

It's probably weird, how tightly she presses herself to him on the return trip. But then, Lya's obviously feeling vulnerable, so maybe she'll just take the closeness she can get, for at least the duration of the ride back. At least they can all be glad that the sandwich was long enough ago that no one does more than dry heave again when she's got her feet back on the ground. Small blessings.

If Lya's feeling vulnerable, then H'vier is feeling downright cold. While he doesn't push her away or anything, there's nothing to suggest he's doing anything but tolerating it. Once they're back at the Weyr, he'll escort, or carry, her to the infirmary. But he leaves as soon as she's handed over to their custody.

It's already been proven that Lya does not learn, so it shouldn't surprise anyone that after she gets patched up and cleaned up from the sand and the salt water, she's getting dropped off on Reisoth's ledge. "Are you fucking someone? Because I'm coming in," is the only warning the bronzerider will get as she strolls into the weyr, meaning to drop her bag over the back of his couch when she gets there.

Reisoth eyes the young woman as she moves past him into the weyr, but he doesn't stop her. "Get out," is H'vier's rough greeting... dismissal? Her kind isn't welcome here. At least not right now. He's slouched on one end of his couch with a bottle of something dark and not full in one hand.

"No," Lya dismisses his dismissal, coming around the couch and sitting down next to him. "I'm sleeping here tonight." She says it like he has no say.

"Absolutely fucking not," H'vier tells her in a voice that would probably be more firm if he wasn't already feeling the effects of intoxication.

"Look, you were supposed to have a good day with me and then--" Lya flaps a hand in the air to fill in what actually happened. "So just be glad I don't make you kiss me after all," since plainly he doesn't want to and obviously she could make him if she wanted to, "and just drink up." The teen is moving to get onto her feet again, intending to pad her way over to his bed and help herself, satchel getting hugged to her chest along the way.

"My day was fine." Simple as that. He'll leave out the part where he turned into an idiot because it's kind of business as usual for the bronzerider. There's a snort for the idea of her kissing him, but no actual commentary. He might glance after her as she gets up, but at least he's not telling her to leave again.

Lya sits on the edge of the bed for a moment before she's pulling off her coat and then pants and puts them on the floor beside the bed with her boots before crawling in, her summer sleep wear consisting of a pair of soft shorts and a tank top. She lies on her back, fingers interlacing over her stomach. Her frame is a little tense, but as the minutes stretch on (if they do), her body relaxes and if he doesn't say or do anything she'll be asleep and conquering the bedspace in almost no time.

H'vier doesn't join her before she falls asleep. And if she wakes up at some point during the night, she'll know that he passed out on the couch instead of claiming any space in his bed. Fortunately he found a light blanket at some point before then.