Logs:Nerat Negotiations
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 5 August, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, K'del, Cadejoth |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: They play hookie from High Reaches and reality. They build a sandhold. That's all. No, really. |
| Where: Bowl HRW and Nerat Hold area |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Weather: Hot and beautiful with a breeze. |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Kasey/Mentions, Nikalas/Mentions, Markarin/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst and sex. Backdated and played via gdocs. |
| |
| Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake. At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space. Warm sunshine and cloudless skies make for a beautiful day and pleasantly warm evening. A breeze tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
It's Tayte's lucky day-- no really. The truth is more likely that K'del has volunteered for this task, no doubt both out of guilt and a desire to get close to Tayte all over again, in whatever way he can; it's likely enough a truth that he's regretting, now, as Cadejoth drops to the bowl and he can see the Vintner properly for the first time. "Uh," he begins, and that says it all, really: admiration, disconcertion, and a healthy amount of conflictedness, all wrapped up into one syllable of awkward. "Seriously?" The word pops out of Tayte's mouth before she can stop it. Of course, that was after she was frozen in shock when it was Cadejoth that landed near enough to make it obvious that this was her ride. Her tone is one of disbelief. The rest of her reaction gets grabbed by the figurative throat and stuffed down her own. Only her glance back toward the complex shows her brief consideration that it might be better to just go tell Markarin what he can do with his Super-Important task. She closes her eyes, her lips move, but there's no sound: counting, again. She only has to get to about seven this time though before she's striding purposefully toward the dragon. "Hey Hero," She greets fondly. After all, none of this was Cadejoth's fault ... right? Then when he allows, she's climbing up to join K'del. "You're my ride to Nerat, right?" Not 'Hi', not smiles, just an impassable expression and professionalism. Professionalism in that outfit. She pulls it off ... well, sort of. Only once she's up does she pull the sweater on her front, so it's backwards, letting it cover most of her and buckles herself in. No waiting; she's ready. Get it over with. K'del's wince goes a long way to suggesting he's well aware of Tayte's feelings, and the blush darkening his cheeks may well suggest that he's wishing things were... other than what they are. At least Cadejoth seems pleased to see Tayte, whuffing warmly at her, and crouching oh-so-low to make her passage up to his neckridges all the easier. "Hello, Tayte," says K'del, who seems to have used the time in between her first reaction and now to recover himself. "Right. Your ride to Nerat. I'll--" Maybe not fully recovered, then, given the vague way he waves in Cadejoth's direction, and the near-dangerous shove the bronze takes to launch them into the sky. Fine. They can do this the quick way: in and out, just like that. If she notices K'del's momentary befuddlement or the bout that comes after, there's no sign of it on her face. If she notices, then knowing he's squirming becomes a secret pleasure all her own. "Hello, K'del." She answers politely. So even if she didn't start with a greeting, she's being civil. The shove has Tayte lurching back against K'del, despite the buckles of the straps. It puts them in contact for a handful of heartbeats until the incline of the bronze's flight shifts enough that she can straighten up. Maybe she lingers a moment longer than when it would strictly be possible to reposition. Maybe. K'del doesn't stiffen (in either sense of the word) when Tayte's shoved back into him, but his breath against her neck is warm, and there's an exhale: a sigh. He doesn't say anything else, though, which is at least partially because Cadejoth's quick to jump them between, and there's not much you can say in the nothingness that accompanies that. Then, just as quickly, they're bursting out into the Neratian warmth, that heavy blanket of heat so unlike High Reaches' more gentle variety. Cadejoth circles lower; "Where're we going?" K'del prompts. Tayte leans into her straps now to gaze at the landscape below. "Cothold!" She points toward the jungle. It's certainly within easy travel of the Hold itself, but surrounded by jungle, it's sure to have fruit. "Probably have to hike there," she lifts her voice so it can be heard, since there don't seem to be handy landing spots right near the roof shrouded by surrounding greenery. "Beach?" She suggests, pointing toward a stretch of white sand that's fairly close. Following Tayte's pointed hand, K'del nods, calling out his answer against the heavy winds: "Okay!" Cadejoth banks, though this is a smoother ride than it was before... right up until he lands, again, at which point it will probably be K'del who gets shoved forward into Tayte for a second or two. It might even be deliberate, because Cadejoth is... Cadejoth. Sand flies up around them as they land; K'del lets out a grunt of displeasure, pulling back so that he can remove his straps, and clamber down. "Hiking, you said," he prompts. Tayte doesn't flinch away from K'del as he's shoved into her. And the sand flying up causes her to loose a girlish yelp and cower move which brings her only into closer contact with K'del. Close enough, that when the sand starts to settle and she un-cringes, her cheeks hold a rosy color under the freckles. The vintner's hands move through the task of unbuckling and the long sweater is quickly pulled away, no longer welcome in the face of such delightful warmth. Then, oh, he's getting down too. Once she's on the ground, she shifts her backpack, and the sweater is tossed over her arm. "Oh, you don't have to stay. I can manage. And I'm going to be a while. You could-- go off and do whatever it is that you two do on a duty day and just send someone back for me around nightfall." Hours and hours from now. She smiles, but it's not a real one; K'del's one of the few whose known too many of her smiles to be fooled. He knows all too well-- and there's something uncomfortable, now, in the way he's looking at her, appraising her expression and her stance. "I'd be happy to help," he says. "Know you don't want anything to do with me right now, and that's fair enough, but... I'm just saying. Could help you carry things, or whatever you need. Or we'll hang here, and you can come back when you're done, and we'll carry you home then." In other words: they're not leaving. Her blue eyes match the waters off the shore, and with her back to them, it's a comparison hard to miss. She stares at him. Then there's a long, drawn-out sigh. "Fine." Then Tayte's turning and walking about ten feet away, swinging her backpack off and pulling out of it a beach towel. "But I was just trying to keep you from having to be my accomplice. I'm playing hookie. The fruit he wants I can get in trade from the baker at the Hold. I'm spending the day on the beach and in the jungle and claiming I had to do all kinds of nonsense in order to get his special order fruit." She shifts the backpack down onto the sand lightly and fluffs out her towel as she goes on. The breeze toys with her skirt as she does it, of course, pulling at it's light and airy material. The sweater's dropped where a pillow should be and she's shucking out of her sandals. Then she turns at the end of her explanation, "And you're not dressed for a day at the beach." It's noted to him, as if he didn't know. Which, she obviously is. Not so much for hiking. Maybe that should've been a clue. For several moments, K'del just stands there, looking... bewildered, really. And then? Then he begins to laugh, his head shaking back and forth. It's genuine levity, and with it comes at least a temporary easing of his discomfort. "Should've guessed," he says. "Sounds like exactly the kind of thing you'd do." It certainly doesn't seem to be a statement borne out of disapproval. He shucks off his jacket, then bends to begin unlacing his boots. As he does so, he says, "long as you think you can handle me stripping to my shorts, I'll manage. Bit of sand never hurt anyone. But." A pause. "I can just go, if you'd rather. It's fine." "I can handle anything." She's probably not speaking specifically of him stripping down to his shorts. But it's the apparent answer to that question. Tayte doesn't look at him as she delivers it oh-so-evenly. She reaches down to her bag and pulls out a small jar. She sets it on the towel before stepping out of her skirt, which joins the sweater, and then the top part of her wrap, leaving her in an itty bitty teeny weeny yellow but not polka dotted bikini. Ideal for sunbathing but it leaves little to the imagination. She settles onto her towel. "I'm not sure that I believe it's a complete coincidence that you're my ride, or, in the least, that you couldn't have gotten out of it if you'd wanted to once you found out. So since it seems you want to be here with me, you may stay, so long as you make yourself useful." She lays on the oversized towel face down, leaning on her elbows for the moment so her back is arched and so she can hold up the jar, a little gesture indicating what she means by make himself useful. While Tayte disrobes, K'del stays where he is, bent over his boot but not paying it any attention. He can't help it: she's an attractive woman wearing very little, and he's a red-blooded man, and... he swallows, abruptly turning his attention back onto his boot. It's very important, clearly, that he gets himself out of them, and out of his socks, and down to the light shorts he was wearing beneath his heavier riding pants. His brows knit, clearly due more to some internal thought process than to Tayte (for all that he's far from ignoring her, even if he doesn't verbally respond), but finally he draws himself back to his feet and approaches, taking the jar from her hand. "Suppose I deserve that kind of... discomfort," he says, as he crouches beside her. Discomfort. The word sours Tayte's expression. She's pushing immediately up onto her knees and chasing the jar just taken from her with one hand. "Nevermind. Give it back." He takes all the fun out of everything. K'del pulls back, evidently determined to hold the jar hostage, just out of her reach. "That's not-- well, fuck, Tayte. What did you think? That given everything, spreading lotion on you might actually be uncomfortable for me? It's not like I stopped wanting you." He stands, shaking sand off of his knees. "But I'm willing to do it. Most of me really wants to. And because we're friends, and that's what friends do." The hand is demanding the jar again. "I didn't think, K'del. I flatly didn't think. I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make this hard on you." Although, wasn't he the one who went out of his way to even be here? "I'm not trying to make you want me. I don't want to put you in an awkward situation. But it's not like I've stopped wanting you just because you want me but don't want me." This gets so complicated so fast. Tayte's pushing up onto her feet, too, reaching down to grab her wrap and start shoving her arms through it. "There, no need for lotioning at all." She glances toward the jar as her hands are busying themselves with the tummy-tie on the wrap. After a lengthy exhale that is really more like a sigh, K'del gives Tayte a long glance. "I'm sorry," he says. "Uh - for making this awkward and weird, too, this time, I mean." She already knows that he's sorry about the rest of it. "Take the wrap off. I like seeing you like that. It's fine. Let's just... enjoy the afternoon as friends, okay? Maybe we can do that." "Liking to see me like that isn't a very friend-friendly thing to say. Or thing to like." Tayte answers this first with a frustrated sigh of her own. She doesn't pull the wrap back off, but at least she doesn't continue covering herself. She drops back onto her knees on the towel, her hands falling to them. "Ugh," is her displeased exhalation. "I don't know how to talk to you." She announces, looking back up over her shoulder at the bronzerider before one hand taps the towel beside her to invite him to claim a non-sandy space. "I'm hurting, and angry, and still love you and want you. And being around you makes me feel awful about myself. And Vali. And everything." The way she says it, it's not mean. If anything, she might seem to know these words aren't nice to hear. But they're honest. It's an awful lot of painful stuff to put on K'del, certainly, but aside from a swallow, he shows no particular signs of being hurt by it-- his expression is more inclined towards concern and sympathy. He sits, offering the little jar back to Tayte, finally, as he says, "I'm sorry. Should never have been the one to take you here. Figured... maybe it would help. Maybe it had been enough time that we could talk and it wouldn't be awful, but that was stupid. Maybe I just missed seeing you, talking to you, and hoped... If it helps, kind of like looking at a lot of girls who're really just friends." The way Tayte's eyes press closed so tight? That's the opposite of help. With lips pressed likewise, she simply nods, swallowing hard. "You don't see me, K'del. You look at me, and maybe, yeah, you see that I've got a nice body and a pretty face, but you don't see me. The idea of me is too confused in your head with friend or lover and scared of both because even as a friend I'm more than your average one. And maybe I'm wrong about all of this. But if you saw me, you'd see that even if it's easy for you to flip a switch and be just friends in a way that we never were before, strip away all those layers of trust that we once had and start over, it's not for me. And I'm sorry, but I can't pretend it is." She's silent only a moment before, softly, "I've never felt the way I felt before." The way she felt in the before and the way she felt in the after. K'del's silence is a lengthy one. And now? Now he really does look pained. "I didn't know," he says, low, speaking more to the gentle waves rolling against the shoreline than to Tayte herself. "Maybe I was deluding myself into-- into seeing things differently from how they really were. Because it was easier not to think too much about it. Because trusting you scared me. Caring about you scared me. Should I just go? Leave? Won't bother you anymore." Tayte heaves a sigh and she rolls over from sitting on knees to rear. She toys with the jar that ended up on the towel between them. "No, you can't do that." She reaches out tentatively, to try to take one of K'del's hands in her own. "We share a forever something. I take that seriously. I'm pretty certain you do too. It's complicated because with traditional families, the mother and father have run their course instead of being headed off straight out of the gate by the time that things come to an end for them. They've already found out it doesn't work, and I guess we have too, but not in a way that won't always leave me wondering." She withdraws her hand, bringing both up to tuck tresses behind her ears. "I'm not saying that we were never friends the way you saw us, just that-- we did care for each other and in a bigger way than either of us planned or maybe even wanted at the time or ever." She draws her knees up toward her chest and wraps her arms around them, "But it hurts deeply that for whatever reason I'm not good enough to even take a chance with. And it hurts that there's someone out there that apparently is. Which essentially means you found someone better. After I trusted you with everything." To sum up: K'del's awful. Only her tone doesn't say this, it just says: here's what I've processed through and it's important that you hear me. It's easy enough to take K'del's hand, and though he attempts to squeeze Tayte's with it, he won't hold on when she draws hers away again: it returns to his knee, resting there somewhat awkwardly, as though he's no longer sure what to do with it. His silence is lengthy, but his expression speaks volumes: it's obvious he hasn't really, properly, thought about what his words and actions have really said to Tayte. Finally, he opens his mouth, saying, in a very quiet voice: "Never intended to hurt you. But you know that, and it's not much help, is it? I fucked everything up, and I don't know what to do now." Tayte takes a slow breath before forcing herself to look up to find his eyes. "It's not wrong to feel what you feel and try to keep people from getting hurt. But you maybe didn't think it through before saying what you said." The blonde reaches out again to take the lost-looking hand. "This is awkward and it is hard, and it's probably not going to get easier for a while, but--" Deep breath and sigh. "--we're still family. Just not the way we were. You still want what you said you wanted? To be with her?" She braces for the answer, her body tensing slightly, felt through the touch of her hand. The answer will hurt, more than likely, but sometimes things have to hurt before healing can happen. K'del nods, rather than answers, his reply to that first remark: this is clearly the case, and equally clearly, he's learned a lot from it (it's about time). His gaze drops towards their joined hands, and he stares at them, evidently taking some comfort for that, though all of that is lost again when she asks her question. "Tayte," he says, looking up. "You don't want me to answer that. If I told you no, I'd changed my mind, take me back, you'd not trust it - and you'd be right not to trust it. And if the answer is 'yes', well, we all know what that means." "Kas," Tayte says softly, the bracing tension easing just slightly, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. Regardless of what the answer is, so far as trust is concerned, where it concerns just you and I, we're starting over. And the honest truth is that I need to know the honest truth of where you're at." She lets her shoulders rise and fall, a simple gesture for one who asks so much. "Do you still want what you wanted? To be with her?" She asks it a second time, tension subtly ramping up. Swallowing, K'del turns his gaze out towards the ocean again, and then closes his eyes. "Want to be with both of you," he says, simply. And that would be one thing, but he follows it up a few seconds later: "But I can't. That wouldn't be fair to either of you. And I've promised her. She wants a family, and she's nearly thirty, and it bothers her, and--" Now he looks at Tayte. "I'm sorry. I care about you both, more than I ever thought I would, but she's the one I'm going to be with. I'm sorry." Tayte holds up a hand to try to stop him when he starts to give her details about why the other woman, but it drops as he shifts to apology. She takes a deep breath, slowly, then, looking him right in the eye, "You're an idiot." She doesn't explain any of the things she might about the family he already had, already accepted, and is throwing away. She simply withdraws her hand and lets it come to sit in her lap, "But fine, you can be an idiot. I want you to be happy so I won't make trouble." She glances toward him with a look that indicates she knows she could if she wanted. This woman, especially in this kind of outfit could probably make trouble (even if only a small amount) for the most dedicated of men. "I do need you to realize something. Even though I wasn't in love with you, this all really sucks for me. It hurts more than I've known just about anything to hurt. More than Cherie," of whom she almost never speaks but would be known as the best-friend and lover who turned her back when Tayte 'stopped being fun' (and got knocked up). "And it's going to take me time to get my head around it. I can't just be-- like we were. We don't get to be like that anymore. No more snuggles and even drunken nights are dangerous, because at least right now we both want something we can't or shouldn't have." She stops to draw breath. There might be more she would say, but she falls silent, expression thoughtful as she stares at the sand just off the edge of the towel. K'del doesn't argue the 'idiot' label; if anything, he seems to agree with her, nodding shortly. He's otherwise silent for a long time, listening to what she has to say, and looking more and more unhappy the more she says. Finally, very simply, "Understood. It's-- whatever you need from me, it's yours. Whatever distance, and whatever support. This is my doing, and I've got to be the one to--" He breaks off, failing to find the right word. "Don't think for a second I'm not aware I've hurt you. And that... I'd do anything to try and make it up to you, even if I know I can't." Tayte's head tilts at a curious angle as she directs a look at him, one with lowered brows, and pursed lips. "And you've got to be the one to-?" She's not looking for him to find the right word. Instead she reaches out to smack his arm. If it lands, it's not a hard thing, but perhaps enough to sting just a touch. "Idiot." She reiterates. "Yes, yes, you did this. And you can beat yourself up all you like over that. I'm not going to stop you, but don't you dare think for one moment that there's any way for you to be the only person that has to deal with the negative consequences henceforth. Unfortunately, they're ours, not just yours. And you don't get to pretend like they are." She rolls her eyes then. "First and foremost, yes, I need space. That means no surprising me like this." She gestures to him, Cadejoth and their surroundings. "It means letting me handle my life and you yours for a while. And yes, of course, we'll still co-parent and we'll talk about things we need to talk about concerning Yvalia and make decisions together," Insofar as they have been already, "But I need you to butt out otherwise. At least for awhile. At least until it doesn't hurt to look at you. At least until I don't want to just slip into your arms and imagine the world away like I do now." Now, she allows herself to look a touch of the misery she feels. It lands, and it stings, and K'del makes a face. He opens his mouth to say something, but evidently changes his mind, and holds off until she's finished. By the end, her misery has been matched by his; he's blinking back tears, girly man that he is. "Okay," he says. And, "I'm sorry for surprising you like that. And for..." He scrubs at his face. "Okay. Space. Can do that. I'm--" It looks like he'd like to put his arm around her, but he's smart enough to know that that is a bad idea, and he stops. "Want me to go, now, then?" Another one of Tayte's long deep breaths. When she looks to K'del, she's drawn her knees up and placed her head on them, so she's looking at him sideways as her fingers play with the sand on her toes. It's a fairly childish pose. "That depends. Do we have to be grown ups right now? Or do you think we could maybe forget the world for just one more day?" In the end, to say yes will only hurt that much more, but it's such an appealing idea; the hurt might be worth it. "This is Nerat after all. A world away from home." What happens in Nerat stays in Nerat? K'del opens his mouth, and then stops. It's almost possible to see the cogs turning in his head, behind his eyes, as he works out the problems involved in such a proposition... and then debates the merits of such an idea. It doesn't take long. "I--" Another pause. "I'd like that," he admits. "If it's not going to..." Screw everything up further. He gives her a glance, a smile hinted at around the corners of his mouth. "Sometimes we all need to be someone else, somewhere else. Just for a little while." "Oh, it almost definitely will make some things less fun," Tayte admits it aloud, but bravely, and blithely, even. "I'm probably never going to stop wanting 'just one more' of us being us. It's going to be the hardest thing to say goodbye to." That she'll have to in time. "But-- I don't want to do it yet. Maybe tonight." Maybe. Then she's pushing onto her feet and bending back to grab K'del's hands to try to physically haul him up. "Come on, there's a whole lot of sand here, and not a single sandhold in sight. Who's to rule over the critters and tell them who's Blood is better than whose and when to withhold the tithes from the Weyr and-- this whole beach must be so lost without one!" She claims in a mockingly mournful tone. The look she gives him is questioning, did her first words crush it? Or can he be swept up in the delight of a day not being grown ups? Her first words didn't crush it. By the time Tayte is grabbing his hands, K'del is ready to be hauled up, and he's grinning, all hesitation forgotten. "Utterly lost," he confirms. "We'd better fix that. Maybe they'll love us so much they'll bow to us as their Lords, and we can retire here forever, cosseted and adored." Beat. "Or maybe they'll just lower themselves to the yoke of their Lords and understand their place in the world. Either or. Come on!" The day is full of laughter and frivolity. (H'kon would hate it.) The beach offers several hours of diversions before they take to the jungles, and find their way to a waterfall and small pool. It's cool there in the heat of the day, and there's swimming! That gets a little dicier in the way of not being grown ups, and it ends with a nap that has them decidedly snuggled in a way that will soon be wholly unacceptable for the relative intimacy of it. Tayte even brought lunch - albeit for one, but she shares what she has, insisting they can always get more at the Hold when they eventually go to do the errand she's 'been on all day'. Toward the end of the afternoon, they make their way back to the beach and the westward facing beach makes for a perfect spot to watch the sunset.Tayte sits, leaning into K'del, his legs on either side of hers as colors start to shift in the sky. She sighs, a long drawn out sigh. "I wish today didn't have to end." It's a wistful thought, but one voiced in the sad tone of the resigned. It's been a wonderful day, and K'del has been an enthusiastic participant in all of it. One of his arms has reached around Tayte's shoulder, lingering there in a way that doesn't quite cross the line into 'adult' behaviour... but falls close. "Mmmm," he agrees, in answer to her remark. "Me either. Let's pretend your errand took so long we decided to stay the night." But he's not really serious, even as much as he sounds wistful for it. "Can't," Tayte sighs the word this time. "Didn't make plans for Vali. And if we did stay, we'd do something you'd regret." She'd probably regret it too, but she has less reason than K'del. She's silent, leaning into him. She knows what comes next, but isn't willing to take the step yet. She watches the sky. It's a good point: K'del acknowledges it with a nod. Still, "Doesn't feel like something I'd-- I should stop. You're right. But it's just been... today's been wonderful, you know?" He doesn't look at her; he, too, is watching the sky, the last of the sun beginning to disappear beneath the horizon. "Kas, maybe you didn't notice..." Because maybe he didn't notice, "But all our todays have been wonderful." Sure, they've had little hiccups and some playful arguments here and there that were maybe a little unplayful at times, but no major issues until... well, all this. It makes her sigh, half-wistful and half-sad. So much to sigh for. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe we're too perfectly matched. Not enough to challenge each other. Not enough spark. Like when we kissed and you joked that I wasn't throwing you back on the bed. But that wasn't lack of spark. And maybe that's the problem, that I was always so afraid. Afraid of getting knocked up again. Afraid of feeling deeply for someone. Afraid--" She starts to go on, then shakes her head, falling silent. What does it matter. She could maybe for days or sevens or months or turns and never sort it all out to her satisfaction. Sometimes, things that should work just don't, and sometimes it's because there's outside factors, and sometimes not, and sometimes... K'del's answer is quiet. "Maybe," he agrees. "Maybe it's a lot of things. Maybe-- if the timing had been different, or if you and I hadn't both been fucked up in our different ways. But we could go on looking at it like that forever, and it's just..." It's not helping. His arm tightens around her. "But here we are. And today was wonderful, and maybe, one day, we'll get to do things like this again." "Maybe." Tayte's alto is so soft. Were it not for their closeness, the word might well be lost. "In the meantime," and now comes the harsh plunge into reality, "What do we want to tell Vali?" It's an icy cold plunge, and though K'del doesn't remove his arm, it does stiffen. He exhales. "I don't know. That... you and I aren't seeing as much of as each other, now, but that I'm still her daddy, and that I love her, and that will never change? Just like... lots of kids have parents like that, right?" Tayte reaches up to touch the tightened arm, her fingers drifting across it, almost idly. "Mm." She makes the considering sound to the words he proposes. "Yes, I suppose that will have to do." She presses her back to his chest as she adds in a voice framed with humor, "It does have more of a parental ring to it than 'Your daddy's an idiot but he'll figure it out someday and in the meantime he loves you and always will'. At least I got the last part like a real parent." She turns her face up towards the bronzerider so he can see for himself that she really is just teasing, trying to lighten what is such a dark and dreary topic. It's probably too soon, but she's trying anyway. K'del makes an uncertain semi-laugh-like sound, one that he matches with a more genuine sound when Tayte looks at him - and a smile, too. He's trying, just like she is. "Mm," he agrees. "That would be more honest, I'm sure. More real. Not that what I suggested isn't real--" He stops, lifting his free hand from the sand to run it through his curls. "Parental, though. That's important. Sometimes-- people always say to me that they don't feel like the grown-ups they thought they would, like their parents surely did. Like they're faking it. Never feel like that over being an adult, but a parent? All the time. Fake it until you make it, I guess." "Yeah, we'd be terrible parents if we didn't give Vali our best example of how to fake all of that." If today has been evidence, Tayte doesn't feel like a grown-up either, though she doesn't feel the need to say this aloud. Now it's her turn to tighten-- stiffen, her muscles bracing for a topic that she likes less. "You said you wanted to take her camping with you?" When she stiffens, K'del sucks in a deep breath. "Just-- for an afternoon, maybe part of the evening. Not overnight. And only if you're comfortable with it. We're just going to spend some time in the meadow outside my parents' place. Some fishing, some swimming, some... I don't know, games and so on. But if you'd rather she didn't, it's fine. Haven't mentioned it to her or anything, or to the boys." He gives her a careful glance. "It's just--" Tayte swallows. She shrinks a little, her head sinking down on his chest and her eyes back out at the now vivid colors in the sky. "I've never not been with her when she's travelled before. In all her life, she's only ever travelled with me. Where I can watch her and make sure she isn't dying or something. I have a vivid imagination." She chews her lower lip. "Do you promise to bring her back in as perfect condition as she's delivered to you? And to keep your eyes on her every moment and make sure she doesn't drown or trip and fall into a deep dark hole she can't get out of, or get eaten by wild animals or--" Just some examples of that creative imagination of hers. "Tayte," says K'del, gently, his fingertips running what are probably intended to be soothing circles over her shoulder. "No one can ever promise to prevent accidents from happen-- just that they'll do their very, very best to avoid them. If you let her come, I'll keep my eyes on her at all times, and so will the boys, and their cousins as well. She'll never be alone. But if you're not comfortable, it's fine. Think about it. If, on the day, you decide you're not okay with it, we never even tell her it was an option. If you decide you are, then it's a surprise and a treat. But I won't push you." Soothing? Well, sure, if it weren't suddenly a beast in his arms. Protective Mother Tayte shifts out of his arm and twists, her hand planting probably uncomfortably near him in that space between where she was just sitting and where he is, not that's she's paying attention to proximity just now. Her eyes are both widened and narrowed at once (it's frightening! Well, unnerving, at least). The widened eyes are intensity and the narrow is her almost-glare. It's not a mean glare, just a pointed one. "Kasadel." It's a fairly fierce tone, "Promise me." Yes, it's irrational. And sure, what he says makes total sense, but it is also the exact opposite of what a mother with an overactive imagination wants to hear when it comes to the safety and well-being of her child. "That she will be safe with you. Now, then, anytime." It's suddenly a bigger issue. K'del's arm drops, and though he doesn't make any attempt to shift backwards, away from the protective mother-beast, there's certainly a look of wary uncertainty settling across his expression. He should be used to this, though: three children, three mothers, and none of them are exactly shrinking violets. "I promise," he says, gently. "Yvalia is safe with me, now and always. I'll protect her with my life." Tayte draws in a breath and lets it out in a little huff. Beast placated, but it takes her a moment for those ruffled feathers to settle. She stares at him in that moment. "She can go." It's a very serious admission. "I'm sure, and I won't change my mind. You can tell her." Then she turns away from him and draws up her knees, her arms hugging the tops and her head resting on them. She rocks herself gently. Moody, moody! "Thank you," is K'del's response, so quiet that it barely counts as a whisper. One of his hands lifts, hovering above her like he'd like to try and comfort her, but restraining itself: evidently, he's decided that now is not the time. "It'll be okay, Tayte, I promise. I'll have her back to you well before bedtime. I promise." "If things are going well and you'd like her to stay," The alto voice is soft, as it rises from the Tayte-ball, "For the night, she can." A pause, "If you'd like for her to come spend the night in your weyr, ever, she can do that too." That's two concessions, big ones, whether K'del wants to take her up on them or not. She stays balled, but the rocking slows and stops. A low breath escapes from K'del; surprised. "I think that rather depends on if she wants to do such a thing," he says, gently. "She's little, still. Won't push her, either." And then, repeated: "Thank you." Slowly, Tayte starts to un-ball herself, first head, then arms, then knees. She stares down at her toes and then twists around until she's facing him. "I can't have you around, like before. For a while. So it would be easiest if you could pick her up from the nursery or from me and take her elsewhere to spend time with her. I can arrange to be out sometimes, so you can use the room, but-- I can't.. I'll just cry. And then it'll go all wrong." She doesn't like saying this, that much is obvious. Setting boundaries is hard. "I can't keep pretending things are like they were after tonight. Not if I'm going to be a good person and a supportive friend, even if it's from a distance until I get my head sorted. Until I can stop wanting you and hoping for things that won't happen." She rolls her head to the side, looking down and away from him. "Even today, in the back of my head, the silly girlish part of me that's there kept hoping today would just open your eyes to what you're not seeing and that we'd spend the night here, making love on the beach, on our beach where we're Lord and Lady of the Sand Critters." She glances toward where the tide has worn down their splendid palace. "It hurts to want those things and know they're not going to happen and feel stupid for feeling girlish and hopeful." Her eyes move to find his face, expression sad again. What can K'del say to all of that? What is there he can possibly say? He can - and does - look apologetic, with an expression full of longing that, well, it can't be hard to decipher. He wishes things were back the way they were, wishes they were different... even though part of him doesn't, and it's a big enough part of him that he's still set on the path he's set on. "Oh Tayte," is all he says, in the end. In the end, he settles on answering the part that's easier: "It's fine. Can take her up to my weyr, or out to the lake, or anywhere else. Won't take her outside the Weyr without getting your permission first, but there's plenty of things we can do. Won't push your boundaries. I've hurt you enough; from hereon in, I'll keep my distance from your life, but not hers. We'll get there." We. Maybe. She wants to say the word that casts doubt there, the doubt she feels but can't apparently express. How does a woman move past something like this without it always hurting deep down? Maybe she'll find out. Or maybe she'll find out that a woman doesn't; she just carries on. Tayte lifts her head to nod. She can't speak just now. Too much emotion is threatening to find it's way out either by eyes or on her breath. She simply takes a moment and then with marked grace rises. "We'd best get to the Hold kitchens before the baker's abed. Since we're not staying the night and I can't go back empty handed." There's more to say, but no words to say it with, and so, K'del leaves her nod as the last word on that topic, and, after she stands, rises (rather less gracefully) and collects the towel, shaking it out down the beach. It gets folded, and then handed back to Tayte; "Cadejoth'll be back here in a moment." He's been flying, all this time. "And then we can get moving - get whatever it is you need, and then get home. It'll be early at the Weyr, still." The towel is stowed in the backpack, making the small thing quite full. Sandals are tied onto the outside of the pack, and then there's nothing else to keep Tayte busy. She leaves the backpack where it is and wanders toward the surf. The turn of her head is just enough that her words carry back to K'del, "I don't want to go home." It doesn't mean she won't, or that she's not resigned to the eventuality, but for everything, she still doesn't want the day to end. She catches up her skirt before walking into the surf, letting it roll over her toes and ankles, feeling the sink of the sand under her feet as the wave rolls back out. K'del's put his pants back on, and his shirt, and is working on his boots by the time Tayte begins walking into the ocean. Her words draw a pause from him - still his hands, which hover above his laces. He exhales. "Me either," he admits. But Cadejoth is landing on the beach, and duty calls-- duties call. He straps up the bronze, once his boots are on, and he turns his head back towards Tayte. It's time. She hears Cadejoth land, turns her head to see K'del tending to the practical matters, and then looks out at the fading sunset. Before K'del gets to where his boots would be in peril, Tayte's walking back out of the surf to meet him. But that's all she does, meet him, standing just before him, close enough that it would be appropriately termed intimate. She looks up at him, her expression open and holding longing and the sadness that is becoming a part of her look when she looks at him. It's not present in the forefront of her expression or thoughts, just a ghost there at the back. He stands, close enough that he could put his arms around her and draw her in those last few inches-- and all he does is look at her, meeting her gaze squarely. The tumult of emotions is still there, but mostly they're overshadowed by his sadness. "Tayte," he says, and it's with a little sigh - a breathy exhale. "Tayte." She hates his sadness. She might even hate it more than her own. What she does next is wrong. It's wrong and she doesn't care. Tayte closes the distance between their bodies, reaches her hands up to splay fingers across his jaw. She leans up to kiss him, wrong, but purposeful as though she's thought it through. Maybe she has. (Probably not.) K'del certainly hasn't thought through his reaction: that's all instinct. His arms lift to wrap around her shoulders, holding her against his chest as he returns that kiss with as much enthusiasm, emphasis, and depth of feeling as the last one they shared. He closes his eyes, but it's not - at least, it doesn't seem to be - so that he can ignore who it is he's kissing. This, too, is instinctual. Tayte probably wasn't planning for this to be a short kiss if K'del didn't spur her advance, so when he doesn't, at least initially, he's met with just as much electric feeling as he gives. The emotions and the energy are there, matching him. That's probably what just kills Tayte: it's so instinctive, and so natural for her to do this, with him. But the fact that it's Not Allowed is not something that's being dwelt on just now as she crushes her relatively scantily clad body against him. Her arms slip around his neck, and it's entirely possible that if he doesn't put a stop to it soon she's going to be seeking his cooperation so she can come completely into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. That joke he made after their first real kiss about how it might not have been a promising sign that they were able to stop kissing and weren't rolling around on the bed? This is the opposite of that. If it's going to stop, it's not going to be because of Tayte. So much for not causing trouble. So much for keeping himself out of trouble. So much for doing the right thing. It's possible that part of this may be - at least for K'del - the thrill of the 'forbidden', but he's certainly not thinking about such things right now. Tayte's movements have him hoisting her up, and even if one arm is in place to support her, the other has a free hand that can be used to explore all the warm skin she's so helpfully left open to the air. The kiss continues; he clearly isn't going to stop it, either. Yes, all the good intentions are gone. Even the responsible ones. Those reasons that she gave before? About why they can't stay the night? Forgotten. Right here, right now, there's nothing but the two of them and these moments. Being gathered into his arms lets Tayte push against him in a new way, a way that has her moaning softly into the kiss, a sweet sound of longing. Being in his arms limits what she can do to progress the situation, but she doesn't seem like she's in a hurry. The kissing is thrilling, urgent, and deep. One of her hands slips into his curls, sliding up the back of his neck, but that and the persistent shifting of her hips is the extent of her movements beyond their mouths. And if it weren't already clear from the way he's kissing her, the movements of Tayte's hips will certainly find evidence of K'del's interest in not stopping this. He's not really in a hurry, but if his roving hand manages to find the clasp of her bikini, and if it happens to flick it loose, well, these things are bound to happen. In the meantime, there's that kiss, and if he has to break it for a moment to catch his breath, it really is just for a moment - and then he's diving in again. (Cadejoth, for the record, has taken one look at them and then begun to pad away. In a moment, he'll launch himself back into the sky, because, dude, it's obvious he's not needed here.) She's not eager to leave his arms, but between the kissing and the evidence and-- clearly, there are too many clothes. A frustrated sound warns that her legs are unwrapping and she's finding her feet. Her lips pull away from his, only to go right back for a series of short smaller kisses, some of which lead into more of the same she's been trying to leave. But now she has the use of her hands and her bikini clasp may have found its way to being undone but she has to pull that wrap free of it's tie and get it off. But it's not an over-the-head affair, so there doesn't need to be any unhappy interruption of the kissing. Not only does the beach wrap get ditched, but the bikini top beneath leaving her top bare to the night, and to him. K'del had just finished putting all his clothes back on, but now, as Tayte works on that wrap, K'del's thumbing open the buttons of his shirt and shucking it free... though it takes rather longer than it should, really, which is all due to the fact that he's a little distracted by these kisses, thanks. A low, intense exhale follows her disrobing, and then K'del grabs for her hand, even as he's pulling her close again. "We should," between kisses, sometimes between a lot of kisses, "go somewhere." Not the sand. Not the sand. That's a good idea and she recognizes it, but also-- going somewhere? That takes more focus than she's comfortable with. Close is good though; close is distracting. There's more kissing that needs to happen when there's close, and hands on his bared chest. It might be good or it might be bad that they've had plenty of time over the months to discover how the other likes to be touched. Tayte employs that knowledge now as her fingers traipse across bare skin. Eventually, after more kissing, "Mmm, yeah." But where? The waterfall wasn't so far. But do they need to go that far? "Jungle?" She sticks to one thought at a time, easier to not have to make decisions that way. "Better." K'del has clearly managed to have some kind of idea amidst all the kisses, because when he finally drags himself away from said kisses (not to mention the touching that goes with them), it's to drag Tayte along after him as he moves, with purpose. There's a rockfall, not far down the beach, evidence of some long-ago volcanic activity no doubt, and though hard, it's not sandy, at least. Of course, before they quite get there he's grabbing Tayte back again: more kissing is required. Only a woman who loves her clothes as much as Tayte would have the presence of mind to grab her bikini top and wrap with a stoop that brings her face close enough to K'del's pants to plant a suggestive kiss before she's letting him haul her toward the rocks, clothing streaming from her fingertips. Did she manage to actually get her bikini top in that? Or just the wrap? Well, she has something at any rate. When he stops to catch her up, there's a happy laugh that escapes her, excitement and pleasure in the sound before it's swiftly converted to one of wanting that soon fades to silence in the wake of more kissing. Then she'll break the kiss and pull him toward the rocks. Climbing. There's climbing to be done, and this is not the skirt to do it in. So the skirt comes off, though the bikini bottoms stay on, for the moment. K'del's long legs are a benefit to climbing, and the fact that Tayte went first and thus he gets to watch her from behind? Also a benefit. It's a good thing it's not a long climb, really, and that there's a lovely smooth surface to greet them at the top-- K'del grabs for Tayte, laying himself down upon the sun-warmed stone and aiming to pull her on top of him so that he can resume those kisses and now, finally, use both hands to explore her body further. They've messed around before. That much is nothing new. But this is. Before it was always careful, mindful, aware - maybe too aware of how Tayte was feeling and behaving and her comfort level. This is reckless, and carefree. There's abandon in the way Tayte helps situate herself atop him, the way she curls forward to kiss him, the way she pushes her flesh against his hands. There's no mind for comfort zone or limits: they're out of one and breaking the others. It isn't long before she's pulling her lips from his to trail kisses down his chest. Her fingers have a different aim now, too, the closure of his pants. Unless he stops her, she's soon going to be up to her old tricks, though tonight, she's not looking to let him find release, just stoke his fires. K'del has always been the grateful recipient of such pleasures, and here, in the twilight of a Neratian summer night, is certainly no different. His shaky exhale is a happy one; his fingers, well, they twine in Tayte's hair, those on one hand, and trace down her shoulder, on the other. It's not long, however, before he's attempting to draw her away, and back up, both because he clearly wants to reclaim her lips for his own, and because she is still wearing too many clothes, and tonight... his fires don't really need that much stoking. She returns to his lips more than willingly. If he wants her elsewhere, she's all too happy to comply, as long as the want isn't elsewhere away from him. If he's helping, she'll work with him mid-kiss to solve the last clothing conundrum. Tayte's lips pull away then, meeting his gaze intently as she slides back. Last chance to stop her, not that it seems likely either is going to suddenly become responsible about all this. If there is a small voice in the back of K'del's head warning him of how stupid this is, it's certainly not presently loud enough to actually stop anything. No: it's too late for that. By now, there's no thinking going on; just feeling, both in the sense of the bronzerider's exploring fingers, his obvious efforts to please, and probably the emotional sense, too. Thinking? Thinking is overrated. Kissing? Kissing is not. It's not news from their previous exploring that as far as women go, Tayte is easy, easy in that there are a variety of ways to please her and most of them don't take much work for her to be very enthusiastically appreciative. What would be news is how well pleased she is by this particular method. The opportunities for him to hear her appreciation were few since mostly there was a need for quiet with Vali asleep around the corner, but here there's no need for restraint, so none is exercised. Long before he finds satisfaction, she's found hers several times over between the kissing and the touching and... It's a good thing. Each of Tayte's exhibitions of pleasure seem to spurr K'del on further-- between kisses offered to her mouth and across her body, he tells her as much, sometimes in words, sometimes in smiles pressed against her skin, and, finally, in his own shuddering, shouting release. Afterwards, he wraps his arms around her, his limbs noodle-like and well sated, and presses a kiss to her hair, his eyes closing. The moment can last just a little longer. Right? As far as Tayte is concerned, the moment can stretch on for forever. There is no thought for consequences or for responsibility still. There is only her, with her cheek to his chest listening to the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart. It's the most intimate moment, being here with him like this, feeling connected and satisfied. It's perfection, if just for this moment. A little longer, or a lot longer, or forever. But the stone is hard underneath, and though K'del is perfectly content to just stay like this, drowsily quiet in the early evening air, eventually there is the need to shift, and even that small movement is enough to break some of the spell, for all that K'del says nothing. His eyes are open again, staring into the starry sky above, and though he's not frowning, he is, very obviously, thinking. Tayte might be sleeping. Napping. It's impossible to see her face from the angles involved. Her breath draws evenly and slowly even after that shifting occurs. She lingers. Then, slowly, reluctantly she's shifting to slide to his side. Another moment or two later, and she's sitting up, reaching to grab her skirt and not put it on, but slide it beneath her rump so it's not directly on the stone. Her arms slip loosely around her knees and she stares out at the dark ocean and the sky, but doesn't look at K'del. The breeze toys with her hair and despite the heat that lingers here in Nerat long after the sun has set, her flesh prickles from the coolness of the air as it slides across her on the raised rocks. K'del turns his head to look at her now. No, he can't see her face, but he can see the lines of her body, and where she's staring. He shifts again, sliding across so that he can more or less spoon her without pressing himself too close. "Tayte?" It interrupts the silence between them, and it is, after all the certainty, notably uncertain. "Kas?" She answers back softly, twisting after a breath so she can look down at him. One of Tayte's hands finds its way to his face, caressing his cheek tenderly. Her expression might be hard to make out with certainty, especially since it's largely unreadable, but there's a small smile for him, a little sad maybe. "Now I really don't want to go home." She murmurs finally. "Me either," is K'del's admission, with that smile that very nearly matches hers: sad and wistful but also happy in a restrained kind of way. "But I'm... glad we did this. Not going to regret it, even if I should. Even if it's going to make everything harder." One of his hands lifts to cover hers, fingers tracing over her fingers. "I'm sorry that it's going to make everything harder, but I'm not sorry for it." Tayte speaks softly, her fingers seeking to entwine with his. Then she's shifting, shifting the skirt with her so that she can draw his arm around her, spoon to spoon. "Can I keep you a little while longer?" It's a question she fears the answer to, but one she asks bravely. K'del doesn't hesitate with that arm, wrapping Tayte snugly within it as he aligns the warmth of his body against hers more snugly. It could be tacit answer to her question, given he's silent for some time after that, focusing instead on just breathing: breathing in the way she smells, the smell of the sea, and the jungle so close to them. "Still early at High Reaches," he murmurs, into her neck. And, "Can get back any time you like, really." "And if I never want to go back?" Tayte asks wistfully. It's a stretch of the truth, because eventually she'd miss her daughter, but at least right now, she's comfortable being just Tayte. She presses closer, tucking herself as near as can be with comfort still being key (well relative comfort; the rocks are quite hard). "Or if I want to go back only to find a bed to do this again?" The words are again wistful. The low exhale that follows Tayte's words may tickle at Tayte's neck beneath her hair; it's a sigh, and a reluctant one at that. "When we go back, this has to be finished with," he says, quietly, and with obvious regret. "We can't do this again. It's not fair to anyone." Tayte is probably grateful to be faced away from K'del in that moment. There's a delay in which there is no movement from the blonde, not even a breath drawn or released. Then a nod, a simple nod, one single motion of her chin. Slowly, she eases out from under his arm and sits up again, her expression blank as she stares out into the darkness. She has no words just now, so she doesn't try to find any. K'del has words, but it's likely that none of them are helpful - certainly, none of them will change anything. He draws away and begins, silently and methodically, to put his clothes back on. Even with the stars, and the brightness of the moons, it's dark here, and perhaps that's better. His expression is in shadow as he clambers back down onto the beach, and silently offers up a hand. If she wants it. The moment really has ended, now; reality is setting back in. From the corner of her eye, Tayte watches him dress. She could try to stop him - try to distract him -- try... what? None of it would do any good. The moment is gone. Too soon only a memory. She takes the hand when it's offered and finds her bikini bottoms to slide back on, though she saves the skirt until they've climbed back down. She has, indeed, lost the bikini top somewhere, so just the wrap will have to do, and her sweater in her backpack back on the beach. Her hand doesn't linger in his and though the walk back along the beach toward the backpack is together, it's also very much each of them alone, unless he breaks the silence with more words that don't help. He doesn't. By the time they get back, Cadejoth has returned, and from there, it's easy to get the bronze strapped up and ready, and then, to get them ready to go. There's Tayte's errand to run, but even then, K'del doesn't have anything to say: from him, it's silence all the way back to High Reaches' sunny afternoon. Tayte's errand is dispatched quickly, the bottle of booze hidden in her bag being given in trade for a small crate of the fruit in question. She turns her smile and charm on like it were as easy as uncovering a glow, but the moment business is concluded and she's climbing back aboard Cadejoth, there's only silence and a sedate expression touched now and again with sadness. The sweater is donned for the trip between, properly this time, since her wrap is otherwise a touch see-through. Now there's no leaning close to K'del, unless Cadejoth's flight dictates that it can't be helped, but there's no lingering as there might maybe have been on the way over. Now, she's simply another passenger, waiting for landing. Cadejoth's landings are always jolt-y, but he's more careful now than he was earlier, and it's almost certainly thanks to his rider's admonishments. When they finally land in the bowl, K'del hesitates, as though there are things he'd like to say, but now, here, the words don't properly come. In the end, all he says is: "There you go. Safe and sound." It sounds flat and empty. Tayte's fingers fumble over the buckles but eventually she's freed of the straps. There's no request to K'del to help her down this time, instead she simply makes motion that that's what she's about to do. Before she does, however, she finds K'del's eyes for a moment. "Space." She says simply, "Lots of space." Her voice is catching in her throat and there's warning in the way her eyes look of the tears that will shortly refuse to be denied. "Space," he confirms, very quietly. The look he gives her is-- well. It's the kind of look he's well practiced at, by now. But he doesn't seek to stop her, or add anything else. Space. He'll give her that much. Tayte doesn't linger on the ground, with crate reclaimed from where it was stowed on her way down, she's heading into the craft complex. At a run. Looking back would be too painful, so she doesn't. Not once. |
Leave A Comment