Difference between revisions of "Logs:Hurt as Much as I Do"

It's not so much out of nowhere as elsewhere-and-then-near; she may not bespeak every time, but perhaps it's not unfamiliar by now, the breath of fresh air that is Solith in question. Wordless or no, this time it's less muted, still touched with the energy that permeates the majority of the Weyr-- even if, to those such as she, it doesn't really apply. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

It's not often to find Rasavyth totally walled up after a flight, but now, he is. For the most part anyway. It's hard to find a chink and the chink once found leads to... depression. There's no other word for it. Poor Rasavyth, found unworthy by his queen. It hurts. And he is hurting. That energy? It's not touching him. He wants to pretend it doesn't exist. In fact, he's submerged himself at the bottom of the lake, with only his nose poking up for air. Does she want something specific? He's not very useful right now. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

Rasavyth. In the lake, like that. That depression, it's unnerving, and yet, and yet after that first moment, she doesn't pull away. But there's a delicacy to her touch, a concerned care. She'd meant to ask after his rider, for hers, that's perceptible; but this sympathy that's shading just to the edge of empathy, that's for him. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

Is it unnerving? He doesn't care. She didn't choose him. He wasn't enough. The one dragon who understands him so well, and he was not what she wanted. He gave her the choice. He trusted she'd choose wisely. But a Fortian? There's a swell of rage that's extinguished. He can't allow himself such strong feelings. They're weakness. Weakness to be rooted out and disposed of. Rasavyth digs into himself, searching for these poisonous roots. His rider? He's relieved. Rasavyth blames him, too. He should have wanted Iesaryth's Aishani. Gotten Iesaryth's Aishani to want him. Obviously it gave that stupid Fortian an edge. Anyway, she'd wanted to know about his rider, for hers. « He's with Nicaith's T'volt. They took Reisoth's rider to the infirmary after he passed out from blood loss. » Matter of fact. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

Air shifts at that rage, doesn't quite ease once it's gone, but if there's residue from that extinguishing-- from those roots-- it might drift these things away. Solith can't do much, but at least she can listen, can be touched by it, affected perhaps more than she knows. If it could have been otherwise-- but then, flame-touched, « So much blood? » has more than a little exclamation to it. And, « But he is all right? » Not Reisoth's rider, even if Rasavyth might have his rider quail beneath the blame. « Should she meet him... » Oh, Solith. Oh, Tela. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

To Solith, Rasavyth offers the series of images that make a flip-book in dull black and white. H'vier grabbing Aishani while she was in N'rov's protective embrace. Aishani stabbing H'vier's arm. The blood. It's dramatic in black and white, because the blood is red. Not that Rasavyth cares if it's dramatic. No. He doesn't care about much right now. It was not an insignificant amount of blood. « He is uninjured. » Rasavyth responds and for some reason this frustrates him. Probably because K'zin should be hurting the same way he is, and doesn't seem to be. « She may meet him. » The directions come in a visual form. A tunnel leading away from the dragon infirmary, a split - the first one to the left, the third door on the right.

It is dramatic. Solith is impressed. If she tries such color-changes sometime, it will be because of Rasavyth, although she might have a harder time getting all the blood... though perhaps the sky... but somehow even bright blue might not have the same effect. « Oh. » Good? Or, not good? The bronze has a certain amount of weight that Solith can't help but listen to, even though she's, well, she's confused. At least the instructions are clear, easy for her to relay, easy for her rider to patter down the tunnels-- (To Rasavyth from Solith)

Not the sky then. Maybe the water. Rasavyth in it. Maybe he wants to drown. Rejection is hard. But, nah. He's going to conquer the world yet. With or without Iesaryth's willing cooperation. Hraedhyth isn't a good choice. Iesaryth chooses elsewise. He will seek another option. And if Solith heard all that? Eh. Let her hear. His ambitions are big, and none of them are served by his drowning. He surfaces fully, not just the nose for breathing, and he swims for shore, shaking when he arrives. He offers the image of the water droplets highlighting moonlit colors while the rest of the scene is in black and white shadow. He's an artist. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

When the pitter patter of feet arrive outside the described door, the not one, but two bodies inside fail to notice it. Or at least K'zin does. He's occupied, shoved up against a wall, in easy sight of the door, between a pair of shelves that hide some things but not all things. What can be told is that the men (plural) are shirtless (but they still have their pants, thank Faranth!), that the slightly shorter one with the more slender athletic build has the more muscular K'zin pressed to that wall and they're making out not unlike an avid pair of weyrlings who once stole private moments in any tunnel they could find.

Solith might as well be saying, 'Okay!' with that wordless ripple of breeze, spiraling down as she does, passing over that lake's edge. And for all that she isn't sure what he'd do with the world or why he'd want it-- this is Rasavyth, Solith can assume he has quality reasons-- she's glad he didn't drown. Drowning wouldn't be nearly as pretty, and she does like those droplets like that. Of course, her rider hasn't gotten to that other display he's set up, yet, but that's coming. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

And... that's when that door swings open with quick, light energy, Tela sliding in with K'zin's name already on her lips-- and the telltale sign of her realization is when that vowel draws out to a thread. And snaps. She's frozen for a moment, all but for the swing of her ponytail that's still in motion, not even a squeak escaping her-- and then suddenly she's backing out and the door's hitting her hip and then it's wide open and she's going, going, aiming for gone.

Rasavyth is paying attention. Rasavyth waits for the cue. And prompts K'zin. Look, Tela! (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Solith isn't an artist, but that image-- that might as well be writ in black and white and red and shock. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

"Fuuuck! K'zin's jerk against the other bronzerider borders on the violent. He's not really trying to shove the other man off, just go after Tela, and T'volt's right there. And shells when did things get so complicated. "Fuck!" He can't help but say again, his face burning red. "Faranth fucking vindictive son of the Red Star!" This is also not at poor T'volt. "Shit. T'volt, can you hang on for two seconds?" He's got to go now if he's going to catch her, and he starts to move as though to do that. What he wants to say when he catches her? He has no idea.

Rasavyth's touch in answer to the shock that comes from Solith is thoughtful, as though he hadn't realized this as a possibility, « She does not wish to see him? » (To Solith from Rasavyth)

Solith, of course, doesn't question it in the least. « Not like that! » carries her own dismay. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

The foreign rider staggers back a step and catches himself, the shelf creaking, but at least it doesn't crash its contents down onto them; T'volt can't be thrilled, definitely doesn't look it, but a brow does pop up because not only does this whatever-it-is seem important to K'zin if not the world... an embarrassed K'zin provides its own form of entertainment. It's just not the entertainment he must have had in mind. With sardonic if frustrated humor, "Maybe even three." Is K'zin still around when T'volt takes a deep breath and starts in on 'one-one-thousand'? That just depends on how fast he moves.

He moves fast. Soooo fast, though not without a grateful look at T'volt on his way. Tela's retreating and there's no telling which way she went. K'zin's out in the corridor lickity-split. "Tela!" He calls, head whipping one side to the next.

Rasavyth's mind seems contrite. « He is distraught. » This is, at least, the truth. Maybe he feels some private remorse. Maybe. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

Normally, when people chase each other down a corridor after a flight, it isn't quite like this. She's pelting towards the Bowl, of course, and she's fast too, yet that tunnel's stone and her footfalls are audible but so too must his be. She could escape. It's dark out, even with moonlight; she could disappear within it.

She could. But that he's giving chase, that has to count for something right? Nevermind that K'zin still has no idea what he'll do or say if he does catch up, but he's pursuing with full intent to catch. There's at least one moment where the tunnel twists and he doesn't quite in time and he slams off the wall, ricocheting into a stumble that momentarily slows him, but he's still following, even as one arm ends up grabbing the opposite bicep (the one unlucky enough to make full contact with the stone) as an involuntary reaction to pain.

Good. The thuds are good. Out she goes, into the dark-- but she looks back before she does, and she may not turn into a pillar of salt but there's hesitation there, and when and if he gets out too-- well, he'll have to come up with that something even if it's nothing because there she is, just to the side of the threshold, hands pressed just beneath wide eyes as though that would hold everything together.

"Tela!" He bursts right past her and strides several paces out into the bowl, though the running is over now. He ranges like a hound who's lost the scent, this way and that way, but always and retracing backward, never turning. He doesn't see her. Not anywhere. Not there! Or there! Or even there! The sound that he makes is a guttural noise that echoes as it's given volume and voice. It's annoyance, it's anger, it's regret, and it's defeat all at once. "Fuck you! Drown in the Faranth forsaken lake so I can go back to being Wakizian." He swears at the night. Only after that display does he turn around and end up looking sharding well shocked because there's Tela. His breath draws sharp and he just stares at her. Then, "Fuck." Yep, things are still messed up. Maybe worse now.

She'd tried to say something sooner, but maybe it's that her voice still wasn't working quite right, or that it's that it was muffled like that, or that-- well, some pained part of her might take all too well to being searched for, hunted after all. 'Over here,' she'd tried next, but only as that cry rang out, only to have his next exclamations send her shrinking back against the stone, because what did she ever do to deserve-- but then, it's never been about deserving, has it? And she'd never so much as known 'Wakizian', and that's when it must click that it's not about her, not even about them, not wholly; it's also a man and his dragon, even if she can't quite know what 'it' is. Solith might have been able to tell her more. Solith's gone silent, landed... somewhere. Finally, she doesn't drop her hands so much as cross them to opposite shoulders... only to lift one of them in an awkward sort of wave. And then she tries a trial step out from the stone. Just that one.

"Tela," K'zin tries to compose himself. His blush is still sort of there, but more as a flush for what must have been him running at top speed in the twisty tunnel. He takes a trial step toward her. Is she running away? About to slap him? There are things he watches for in her face as he says, "I am so sorry." Does he need to say aloud that that was not supposed to happen? He starts with just those words and maybe another step toward her if she hasn't shied away from his first.

Those wide eyes are intent upon him, searching out his demeanor for clues every bit as much as he's examining her expression; there are times when Tela can have more of a predator's mien, in play or otherwise, but not at all now. She doesn't run, though there is that visible single shiver; she doesn't move to slap him, though maybe she should, still so high-strung after that flight and after everything that isn't over that she can't help but ease a fraction at the very nearness of the man who'd caused her distress. But then, that's what her body's used to, even now... and it is just that fraction. She nods, once. She starts to speak, falls silent. She tries it again. "He said to come."

"He's a spiteful asshole." K'zin bites the words out. He's not angry with Telavi, of course. It's not even a little bit her fault. "And he put you in the middle. He thinks I lost him the flight." His teeth grind. The bronzerider forces himself to close his eyes. "Sometimes, I wish I was dragonless." It's a hellovathing for a dragonrider to say. For one who knows what it is to be bonded that way. But he says it, and at least in this moment, he seems to mean it. "He's mean and awful and I hate him." Sometimes. Right now. "But me telling you that doesn't make up for anything. I'm sorry. There wasn't supposed to be a flight. He wasn't supposed to be here for that." He, T'volt. The man who... well, may not be waiting for him because this is definitely longer than three seconds. And that's another thing he can worry about. "And Rasavyth wasn't supposed to--" He breaks off in a choke, he's upset, and upset K'zins cry. He's trying not to. "I wasn't supposed to have this kind of dragon." Only he does. So doesn't that mean he was supposed to?

He may not be angry with her, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't feel it, and she's back to holding herself together because she's the only one who will. Even Solith's a guilty bruise in the back of her head, never mind that she didn't mean to, and even now may not comprehend that it could have been on purpose, not with that show of contrition. Maybe there's a girl out there who would hear all this and, after a token moment of shock, accept it and agree about all these things that shouldn't have happened, then put all her distress aside and comprehend the nature of K'zin's travails with his dragon and put that crucial issue first. She isn't that girl, and what she feels has more to do with a terrible, critical betrayal. "I-- we-- I can't trust what he says, can we." And that's how they operate.

There's a profound moment of silence, as K'zin stares at Telavi. It's possible to watch the way his eyes clear of the threatening tears, the way he mans up to what he says next. His jaw sets, his shoulders straighten and tense, and only his eyes betray how heartbreaking and gut-wrenching it is for him to say what he does next: "You can't trust either of us." His eyes close briefly, "Like it or not, he's a part of me." K'zin doesn't seem to like it. "I don't tell you things deep down I know I should, or could. You can't trust him. You can't trust me." Beat. "And he's just going to use you to hurt me when it suits him. And I won't--" Can't. "-watch you get hurt because of me." He stops talking. Because it hurts too much to keep on. And nothing he's saying is helping anything, except maybe the long-term goal of keeping Telavi safe.

'Why.' And then he answers, or else he says what he was going to say anyway, that's if she even said it audibly at all. Maybe it was just a lost breath. And then... and then her chin lifts in lieu of another wince, just slightly, and in the next beat her brows draw down because she's not liking where this is going and then she's walking towards him instead of away while he's still talking. She might as well run into him, for she stops only before an outright crash. If only he were wearing a shirt, she could grab a handful of it, but instead she has to unwrap herself further, enough to reach for one of his shoulders. Intently, "I can trust you." She can so. "Not with everything, but I shouldn't with anyone, not everything. You don't get to wrap me up in cotton batting. And I'm not going to stroll off and leave you," abandon you, "alone with this." She isn't finished.

No, K'zin doesn't stop talking as she approaches. Just when it's not helping anything. His eyes are intense as he gazes down at her, jaw still set in stony stubbornness that doesn't bode well for whatever she's going to say that isn't 'have a nice life, K'zin.' But at least he hears her out before he reaches up his hand to carefully take hers off his shoulder, though it doesn't linger pleasantly as it might have if her words had had their intended effect. He has to take a deep breath before answering very seriously, "No, Tela, you can't." It's firm. He's not going to argue with her like a child. This is Serious Business. "He's going to hurt you." Fact. "I'm going to hurt you." Supposition, but this conversation is lending well toward proving the point. "You should leave. Because I don't deserve to be the one leaving you, but I will if I have to. To keep you safe from us." Which, you know, might be sweet if he weren't breaking up with her. Even though they're not together.

"As I was saying," Tela-who-is-not-finished says, and has he met her jaw? Never mind what would be the fine trembling that she's clamping down on so hard. "Why don't you go back to what you were doing before I rudely if unintentionally interrupted." Her chin lifts that fraction higher. "You can even give him my apologies." She must have heard the rest of what he'd said, surely. Maybe it's okay to leave if she's the one telling him to. If she's still not the one walking away.

This makes K'zin's jaw tighten more. Tela's jaw, meet your match. However, the bronzerider knows the greenrider well enough to know that she's made up her mind. Which means, he has to do the hard thing, make the hard choice. Only, he can't bring himself to do it the way it ought to be done. He can't bring himself to say, 'Tela, it's over.' Instead, "Fine." And this is the hard moment. The moment where he has to get his feet to go one in front of the other. To walk away. To leave. "But it doesn't change anything." What he says still goes. And now, so does he, his tread heavy but gait purposeful.

Audible footsteps escort him back to the mouth of the cavern, just as purposefully spaced between each of his. But when he hits stone, they stop, for so does she. For now.

He doesn't look at her. He can't. That would make this leaving too unbearable. Instead, he lets loose his anger beneath the mask of determination.

The force of K'zin's rage boils the omnipresent ooze dry. « I loved her, you son of a bitch. » (From K'zin to Rasavyth)