Difference between revisions of "Logs:Out of Her Depth"

Evyth's reach for Yizibeth is apologetic when it starts. « Hi, I mean, I'm Evyth. You're Yizibeth, » right? « Lys-- Lycinea, » the smells of baked cookies curls unhappily at the use of the pre-her name, « She wanted me to -- well, no, please, Yizibeth, »the concern threads through the younger green's agitated mindtouch, « She needs Zif, she says. Can he come? Can he stay with her tonight? »

When company arrives, the glow path that casts light across the glittering weyr leads in to where Lys is scribbling feverishly on a stack of reports, working her way ever nearer to the end of the stack. There's a bottle of very cheap booze on the table and a glass that either was not very full to begin with or has been considerably drunk down in the time since it was filled. Drawing nearer, it's not hard to see that Lys has been weeping, though she's not crying now, thankfully.

Yizibeth is startled by the unfamiliar touch, to say the least. It probably doesn't help that she was dozing, but she's fortunately not quite asleep, because Z'riah isn't exactly a morning person. « It's okay. We'll come. He says I've been wanting to meet you! » This is exciting because she totally doesn't remember.

When Z'riah arrives, he's not drunk, but he's probably had a handful of drinks throughout the night. He's dressed like he was out, having fun and getting attention. "Hey, this is pretty nice," he says when he helps himself inside, leaving Yizibeth to Evyth, following a path toward where Lys is sitting while he takes in what he can of her weyr. It's kind of exciting that she has one of her own now, honestly, but that's someone dampened as he gets closer. "You don't look like you've had a very good night," is how he'll deal with that, even though he already figured as much being the reason he's here.

There's a sniff and Lys is putting down her pen, pushing her seat back and getting up. "It is pretty nice," she agrees, putting on that familiar brave face. "I'm crying over a boy," sounds equal parts upset and annoyed with herself. "I'm an idiot." She means it. But that doesn't mean she doesn't cross to Z'riah and curl her arms around his neck.

Z'riah is there to wrap his arms around her in turn, tilting his head against hers and sighing out a very knowing, "Crying over a boy doesn't make you an idiot. That's what I tell myself when I do it, anyway." And he's probably done it way more than he'd care to admit in his lifetime. Mostly over one boy in particular. "You want to talk about it?"

The hugging makes her a little weepy, but the words make her laugh through that. Lys squeezes him tightly in her embrace. "I miss you," is so real and raw that it probably could make her weep again. "Yes. I didn't know who else to call and this is all so-- stupidly confusing. And I don't want to feel any of it, Zif. I never wanted to feel any of." And here she is now, feeling. Stupid stupid feeling.

"I miss you, too, sweetie." Z'riah goes as far to kiss the side of her head before he draws back to look at her face. "Is this 'we're gonna need some booze' talking? Because I brought some, if it is. I brought some even if it isn't, I guess. You don't mind if I have some, do you? It's good stuff."

"Oh, please," Lys gives him another squeeze before stepping away. "Mine is shit. I can't afford better." Weyrlings make crap. She moves back to the table, to those reports, "Let me write the last like-- four things on this report and then I'll put them up where we won't risk damaging my hours of hard work with our booze." She's practical in that at least and it won't take her too long to do as she says. "I don't really live here yet," she confides. "Haven't wanted the stress of moving in, only I'm regretting that now because everyone else is going to be focused on fixing up their weyrs this month and I barely have time to think about anything with my weyr with wingleading and silver threads and the regular training." She's rambling a little as she moves to one of the couches, kicking off her boots once she gets there.

He's such a great role model, pulling Lys away from her responsibilities to drink with him. Never mind that she asked him to come. "To be fair, I don't think we want to damage our booze with your hours of hard work, either. I probably should've brought something a little less smooth, honestly. But I think we'll be fine." Z'riah glances around the weyr when she continues with the rest, but he waves that off as he sinks onto a couch. "You'll manage just fine. Even if I have to come help you myself. Now have a drink," he hands her the whole bottle now that it's open, "and tell me about this boy."

Falling into old patterns is easy, even if her complaining about a boy breaks any kind of mold they had set. Settling herself against him is automatic, sharing the booze-- that's new too, but she takes it in stride drinking deeply. "I was two shots deep by the time I went home with him." She sighs, those shots long since worn off. "I like him," that seems like maybe the place to start. "Bronzerider," and she rolls her eyes. "He's been wonderfully, terrifyingly understanding about-- everything. But I can never tell what the fuck is going on. Sometimes I can see it in his eyes that he wants me," which is novel for her, "and other times, I'm not sure if I'm just not about to be a notch in his bedpost or -- like today. Today it came out that he told some other guy that I was 'his girl', and when I told him I didn't even know what that meant, he said he didn't know and wasn't ready to have that conversation." And she looks distressed because, "I'm not ready to have that conversation. I just had my first orgasm ten days ago, for fuck's sake." Someone's been counting. "It's a lot to take in and I don't understand this hot-cold bullshit." She drinks.

It's nostalgically comfortable to sit here with her against him. Z'riah settles right into it like it was yesterday, even if they never had much of a couch, either. He listens without interrupting, shifting slightly to get more comfortable once he's heeled his boots off. He's listening so seriously that he practically twitches when she mentions, "An orgasm! Lys, that's great. Congratulations." It might seem like a weird thing to focus on, but Z'riah points out, "If you could relax enough for that, you probably trust him pretty well, yeah?" He reaches for the bottle so he can take a drink.

She, predictably, elbows him for his congratulations, even if he meant them. It was a light elbowing, probably punishment for the substantial blush his words brought on. Lys makes face as she passes the bottler, but not because of the bottle, but because, "Yes and no. I mean, I trust him for that. And in a way, it would be so much easier if he just said 'I'm just going to use you for your body, but I'll make it good for you,' but then he goes and says things like that he doesn't want to use me, or that likes me and I just don't even know what do do with that. You like me for not my body, H'vier liked me for my body, but either way, with both of you it was so clear cut. Here, it's like zigzagging every time his mood changes. Some nights he's liked for me to sleep over after, and other nights... I just don't know what to do with any of it." She sighs and leans into the greenrider, giving him a pitiful look. Poor Lys and her first not-boyfriend.

"First of all," says the older greenrider, just to set things straight, "I like your body just fine. You're gorgeous. Trust me. And you know damed well that asshole wouldn't have put up with you if he didn't like you for not your body, too." Z'riah isn't joking. He's being totally serious about this. "So I don't think you should try to stuff this boy of yours into one hole or the other just because your memory sucks." He looks her in the eye, like he expects her to take that into consideration. "The important thing, though, is what do you want from him? If he's been willing to take it slow and try to make you comfortable, I can pretty much guarantee that he's either a sociopath who's enjoying playing with you, or he actually likes you for you." Z'riah, expert on men.

"And next you'll tell me the sky purple with yellow stripes," Lys looks right back at him as if he should have known this would be the amount of belief she would put into his own claim and the one he makes for H'vier. Still, there's a frustrated sigh and she takes the bottle from him for a drink before replacing it (like it was never gone~~). "I don't know. I mean, I'd like to not be a virgin anymore. I don't want to have a shitty experience the first time Evyth goes up. And I like him, so it's not even just about that. But just because he likes me doesn't mean he wants something with me, only he called me 'his girl' to Pip and why would you call a woman that if you didn't-- I don't know," she shifts, arms curling around her middle unhappily. "But if you did want that woman to be 'your girl' and she asked you about it, would you say you weren't ready to talk about it? And if you weren't ready to talk about it, why would you say it to someone else?" It's all so confusing. Stupid men.

"I've had an embarrassing amount of erections because of you, woman," Z'riah tells her. Maybe being more crude about it will make it seem more believable. "Men are stupid," Z'riah is a prime example, even. "We think with our dicks more than our brains, and that kid's probably worse than normal because you're all just getting your weyrs, right? Telling other guys about their girls is usually posturing, on some level, though. It probably means he'd be proud to be your guy, too, at least. I'd say maybe he's worried about making you uncomfortable with it, and he doesn't want to scare you off so he's trying to play it cool by being an idiot." After a brief moment, he looks at her with a straight face, "You want me to beat him up for you?"

The first get an expressive roll of Lys' eyes: 'yeah, right'. Perhaps men aren't the only ones that are stupid. His last makes her smile and then laugh, then roll her eyes again, but in a different way. "No, but it's sweet of you to offer, Zif." She sighs, moving her arms so she can curl them around one of his, knees pulling up and leaning his way too, it's almost like a cuddle-hug while sitting up on the couch. In any case, she stays there. "And if I were to tell him that I might like to try being his girl, how do you think that would go? It's so weird because I don't-- I don't know, there aren't a lot of other guys that I've thought about in that way and so it's not like I really want to go out and get with other people, you know? But something about being 'someone's girl' just... I don't know. It seems so holderly." And Zif knows how she hates the holdbred. Nevermind that the man in question is just that.

"It sounds like you should figure out if you'd want it to be like that before you care about what he thinks. If you might be interested, make him talk about it. If he doesn't want to be your guy, then you know what it is and you move on from there." Says the guy who has been pining for someone he won't talk to about his feelings for ages. "And don't knock it too hard till you try it. Sometimes it's nice to have someone and be someone's. I miss it. But it takes the right person." Pause. "Or you could just go find some hot guy in the bar and make him take you home and not let him leave until you have at least three orgasms." Maybe Z'riah isn't actually the best person for advice about these sorts of things.

"Just that easy?" Lys doesn't believe him. "I don't want my first time to be with some random guy from the bar. I want this guy. He makes things easier and better when he's not being infuriatingly hard to read." She reaches for the bottle again. "I got him off tonight and then left, with my paperwork. Things didn't seem right." She looks unhappy. "Maybe I'll just lay low for a while. Evyth won't fly for another half turn, so that's plenty of time for me to find a couple people to sleep with in the meantime." Maybe even this guy, if he stops acting like an idiot.

"What wasn't right about it?" He asks it as he gives her the booze, concerned about her unhappiness. "There's no rush," Z'riah agrees. "But if you want him, if he's good to you..." Then why not just do it? "It's okay to make mistakes about these things. You will make mistakes when it comes to sex. That doesn't mean you need to avoid it. And I will personally tear the balls off of any man who doesn't treat you right." Lys has always wanted a sexy big brother who's talked about thinking she's hot, right?

"He didn't--" Lys struggles to put her feelings into words, "Normally, he's able to relax more. We kind of, you know, vanish into our own little world or whatever. This time felt more like I was outside some wall looking in. I didn't let him try to get me off because I didn't think it would happen worried and if it didn't happen for me, I didn't want that to make either of us feel like-- I don't know, like it was a bad idea to have sex, eventuality. But I feel like I'm on the outside now, like he's not letting me in anymore. Maybe I should leave him alone for awhile and then--" she drinks, a steeling drink, "tell him everything."

Z'riah listens, but once she's finished, he doesn't have anything to say immediately. Maybe the alcohol is starting to make it more difficult to think about these things, but eventually he says, "If you like him, if you want him to be that person for you, you should talk to him. Like, really talk to him. I know all about not talking to someone and I can't really recommend it at all." He offers a weak sort of smile, oddly self-deprecating for the often cocky greenrider.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't in love with him," Lys blurts, out of almost nowhere, thanks booze! "I wish you weren't a greenrider. I wish you weren't gay. We could've made this so simple between the two of us. No real strings, just-- not sucky sex. But you had to go and be gay." How dare he. Lys pushes up off the couch, expression disgruntled. She stalks to where there's a crate of unpacked belongings and slides the lid so she can get up. "I'd have asked H'vier. But he's dead. The asshole. And now there's V'ret and it's complicated." And clearly, it's the fault of the men she knows, collectively, that she's in this mess at all.

The younger greenrider's outburst is unexpected, to say the least. Z'riah sits up when Lys pushes away from the couch. He watches her but stays where he's sitting for now. "Lys, I'm not gay." That might not be what he should be focusing on right now, but there's something frustrated about the way he says it. "Xev is with someone else. And I kind of hate him more than I love him." Yay, love hate. He gets up, then, and starts moving in her direction without actually closing the distance. "This V'ret guy's better for you than H'vier ever would've been." He doesn't even have to know the guy to know that.

She digs into the crate, grimacing not at what she's not finding immediately in her search. "Probably, but this V'ret guy is making me so frustrated that I just want to run away." As usual. Lys continues to dig. Maybe she didn't even hear the rest. Only then, "If you're not gay, everything is complicated and I don't want to ruin our friendship." She pulls out more clothes in her search, letting them pile on the (thankfully clean) floor.

"You can't just run away," Z'riah tells her. "Not for a few more months, at least." He stops once he's near her, leaning a shoulder against the wall while he watches her dig through clothes. "Not being gay isn't that complicated. Sex isn't an option here unless it's something you're enthusiastically into doing, Lys." And that's never exactly been the case in his experiences with her. "What're you looking for?"

Whatever Lys is looking for is momentarily forgotten as she twists to face Z'riah, expression one of combined anger and frustration. "Don't give me that 'it's not complicated bullshit. I've wanted you since before I could define it as want. But you're my friend, one of my only friends, and you're older and in love with someone else and I am so broken I don't even-- Fuck!" She swears because the tears that were held at bay suddenly overcome her defense and she's sliding down to the floor to curl arms around her knees and bury her face against them.

Guilt pulls at Z'riah's expression when he moves to sit down on the floor near Lys. The way he tries to put an arm around her and pull her closer to him is tentative at best; he's probably worried about making things worse now that he's got her crying. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You know I love you, right? Nothing's gonna change that." Even if she wants to think he's gay and uncomplicated for the rest of her life.

"I know," Lys says after some moments, curled against his chest to weep instead of herself. There's sniffles but Lys is practiced at getting such shows of emotion under control. "But if we did have sex, it would complicate things more forever, and I know that. You know that. That's why you try so hard to think of me like a little sister and why I try so hard to think of you as gay. Do you think being thought of as someone's little sister is less insulting than being thought of as gay? We all make up our own versions of reality." She might be making one up right now.

Z'riah holds her in comforting silence until she speaks again. He considers his words before venturing, "You were younger than I was comfortable with when we met, and you weren't interested in any of that, anyway. And anyone thinking I'm gay isn't insulting to me." He doesn't even sound insulted by the implication that he should be. "It'll be complicated with anyone you do that stuff with until you either learn not to let it be, or accept that it's just the nature of being that close to someone else. Complicated doesn't mean bad. This feels complicated even without anything else, doesn't it?" They're relationship as it stands, presumably.

"Yeah," Lys agrees quietly of their relationship as it stands. "Sex might be less complicated for me some day, but not before I've had it," that much she can be sure of. "Then not insulting. I don't mean it as insulting. Not any more than little sister is to me. It's what keeps us safe, Zif." She sighs, a little defeated and resigned. Of her youth, she says nothing.

"You'll be okay, you know. You're one of the strongest people I know, and I'm so proud of who you are, Lys." Z'riah presses his lips to her head, squeezing his arms around her slightly. "You're gonna figure all of this out. And no matter what happens, you're still gonna be okay." He seems confident about that, at least.

Lys sighs heavily. "I hope so, Zif." Quietly, she confides, "V'ret told me that the broken don't hide from each other. I want to believe that. I'm not sure-- he has scars, but I don't think he can see mine." Because they're on the inside. Because she's only addressed the most obvious. "I'll tell him everything. And I will find that stupid slinky swimsuit H'vier got me to wear while I do it, because he won't kick me out while I'm wearing that," she sounds confident, although perhaps a little not.

Z'riah has an echoing sigh, not as heavy but maybe slightly resigned. "I think that sounds like a good idea. But if he's worth telling, he won't kick you out even if you're wearing some old auntie's ugly dress." It's sort of teasing, but not because he doesn't believe what he's saying.

"If he's worth telling seems a little bit in question," Lys says dryly, "I'd rather stack the deck in my favor." Leaning up, she brushes a kiss to Z'riah's cheek. "Love you, Zif," is a murmur, her smile real but sad. "Will you stay tonight? Like old times?" With the snuggling, she must mean.

He smiles at what she says, and nods even as he answers, "Yeah, I'll stay." Of course he'll stay. Z'riah waits for her to move before he'll get up, content enough to be her rock while she needs it. Except he can't help pointing out, "The deck is already stacked pretty well in your favor, I'd say. You realize you're already having sex with him, right?"

She does eventually get up to keep looking through the crate, pulling this thing or that and holding it up for his opinion. Most of it's mundane, but some of the tops are more revealing and some of the skirts shorter. "Well," sounds like disagreement already, if a thoughtful one, "only with our hands so far," which isn't to say it's not but perhaps not the same. "I think that telling him I want him to fuck me might go a long way. I think-" Lys pauses to draw a quick breath before saying, "I think I'm going to not give him a chance to put it off. I appreciate he's taking it slow and-- but--" She doesn't know. She's still out of her depth.

The older greenrider actually seems pretty okay with helping Lys go through some of her clothes. But, closet gentleman that he is, he won't ask her to try any of it on for him. Z'riah's attention focuses more directly on Lys when she talks about telling her guy that. "I think that'd go a long way with any guy that's into you, honestly. That's the sort of thing a lot of us like to hear, I guess." Present company not excluded. "Still, just hands is still sex. I've done just hands and mouths and stuff with plenty of people. If you're okay with that, it's not a big stretch to a little bit of P in the V. Okay, hopefully more than a little bit, at least." He's hilarious.

"P in the--? Oh--!" Lys almost starts to say 'ew' and then starts laughing, at herself. Maybe at him too. "Well, it's not going to be too long before I have to be okay with that and the flip side." She looks contemplatively at a blouse and then holds it up. "I'm thinking of asking my friend, Jocelyn, to try out the other side of things. I'm not sure how he would feel about that, but I'm not sure that I care, in that context. It's not like he could help me that way, even if he wanted to. But I've been paying attention to what he does so I might be able to mimic it." There's-- no disgust, no apparent discomfort. No nothing. Could it be that's somehow easier for her to wrap her head around?

"The goldrider?" Is there another Jocelyn that he's even vaguely familiar with? Probably not. "I'd suggest finding someone that's actually caught another girl before. But it's more important that you're comfortable with who you're with, probably." Z'riah's gaze goes a little distant, still watching Lys but probably thinking about things he shouldn't be. Then, like it's some sort of afterthought, "Have you been able to do what he does to yourself?"

"I figured that she and I could just figure it out together," Lys explains her predictable reasoning. "If she doesn't want to though, I'll ask Jo. She has a reputation. I think she'd probably help me out, though I don't suspect it would be any kind of tender and-- well, that'd probably be okay." She shrugs. "It's not like I'd ask Farideh and Irianke-- would probably find that odd. And I don't really know anyone else. Only after she sets the blouse aside does she admit what her blush is already telling. "Yes." The blush is probably more admitting she's tried than the fact that she's succeeded. "Figured," is a mumble as she leans forward to dig deeper in the box, "I'd better practice first. Before Jocelyn, or whoever."

Z'riah has a slight wrinkle of his whole face when Lys mentions Jo. It's not that he has anything in particular against the woman except, "She's so old. Irianke, too. They'd probably just scare you away from women forever." But he does't really have any other suggestions. "Doing that stuff with yourself can help you, too, you know. Figure out what you like so you can tell other people and make everything that much better and all."

"Irianke is beautiful," Lys tells Z'riah with a cool look that (if they weren't such good friends) would mean he's treading on thin ice. "Jo's pretty hot too. And what does age really matter now that I'm not too young to make people who might want to sleep with me uncomfortable?" She rolls her eyes a little, "I know." Like she's an expert. "V'ret lets me show him when I find something I like." 'Lets her.' "It's not like I have a lot of time, really. Not this month."

"I said she was old, not ugly. She's hot. I know. But older women know their shit and they can be intimidating." Z'riah can speak from experience on this because everyone knows he'd never let a silly thing like older age get in his way of an orgasm. Never mind that he's closing in on thirty here himself. "Okay," he says, trying not to read too much into the wording of her comments, "So long as you know."

"I thought you said I should learn from someone who knew their shit," Lys contradicts with challenging headbob and popping eyes. "Who knows, maybe someday we'll decide to make things complicated. Differently." Then, suddenly, "Ah-ha! Here," she holds up what might look like a tangle of red until she manages to shake it out and reveal a crocheted bikini. "I'll wear this. V'ret will hear me out," she sounds sure, only then she looks to Z'riah, "Right?"

Z'riah gives Lys a look like he wants to argue with her about it. But he doesn't, for whatever reason. Maybe because this bikini of hers is safer to talk about than intimidating women. "He'll... be looking at you, anyway. He might even listen. Can't promise how much he'll actually hear." He gives the younger greenrider a slightly arched brow.

"Maybe that's the best way to explain the ugliness inside me," Lys ventures. "I always thought it was probably better to only see glimpses, if anything needed to be seen. I want him to see me, I do," she's convincing herself a little, "but maybe not so 'here's all the gory details with nothing nice to distract you from how awful it all is' would be the best approach?"

"Lys," murmurs Z'riah, something both emotional and protective in the way he says her name. "There's nothing ugly about you. Or who you are." Maybe things that have happened to her, but Z'riah seems to think those are separate things. He's apparently not going to try to convince her to talk to her guy some other way, though. It's one of those things that has to be how she wants to do it.

"Zif," Lys turns that back on him, her voice quietly appreciative but also with an edge: some illusions shouldn't be kept, "Everyone has some ugliness. Be my friend enough to see mine and accept me anyway." The bathing suit is set aside and her hands are extended toward him in silent request.

"I do accept you, Lys." Z'riah moves toward her to take her hands with his. "I accept everything about you."

Lys uses his hands to draw his arms around her, hers slipping beneath them to curl around him, too. She's silent. It's possible in light of their recent words, she doesn't wholly believe him, but she doesn't want to fight now. "Let's go to bed," she murmurs against his chest after some moments of just embracing him.

Whether she believes him or not, Z'riah wraps his arms around her and holds her in a way that definitely shouldn't lead one to believe that he doesn't accept her. "I like that idea," he says, even if it's not for what he might usually like that idea for. Even so, the greenrider moves an arm and bends just enough to try catching her around the knees and lift her up into his arms so he can carry her to bed.

There's a little surprised not-quite-shriek, but then laughter. Evidently, Z'riah's one of the few men on Pern who could get away with this and have Lys smiling by the time they hit the new-to-her sheets of the bed.