Logs:Greenrider's Guilt
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| RL Date: 4 March, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Oliwer |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After parting ways with Rhey, G'laer's not feeling himself so he invites a healer by. |
| Where: Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: Rh'mis/Mentions, Rone/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Forward-dated. |
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| Bookworm's Paradise Weyr, High Reaches Weyr In clear weather, sun dapples the floor of the southward-facing weyr and reflects prisms of light from the fine glass that fronts wall after wall of neatly carved bookshelves. Empty now, but for a few volumes tucked up on a shelf, clearly this weyr is a bookworm's delight, all ready to welcome someone's collection of scrolls and finely bound volumes. The living space here has been sacrificed somewhat, cozy rather than spacious. There's enough room for a table and chairs in front of a hearth overhung with a precious maple-stained skybroom mantle, but the sleeping area is another nook carved into the wall, neatly laid with a comfortable double mattress. The linens are presumably stored in the lovely trunk set just to the side of the nook, a match in stain and wood-type to the mantle. Niches for glows are well-spaced along the tops of every shelf, the glow-holders made of interlacing strips of copper set with mica to give the light a mellow cast. All in all the space invites one to come in, curl up with a favorite drink and a book to read.
The greenrider is waiting inside as usual, when the elevator dragon arrives, settled at the small table by the hearth, a glass that's something stronger than a cup of tea sitting before him, an empty glass at the place across from him and the bottle between. "Oliwer," is his relatively even and familiar greeting, but he doesn't bother to rise. "Join me," he invites instead, gesturing. There's a brief in and out pop from the chubby little blue that follows Oliwer around occasionally. He doesn't have a note but he makes sure he gets some sort of attention before he's gone again. It, apparently, means that Oliwer got the message. It's a lot more obvious when he does arrive after dinner, with the bag he always brings with him for G'laer's appointments. The journeyman only hesitates for a moment before settling into the seat across from the greenrider. "Are you feeling any better?" he asks as he sets his bag down by his legs. The chubby blue's attention comes in the form of a piece of jerky in reward for appearing. Expecting any more from G'laer would probably qualify as crazy. But, hey, food. So. "Not really," is the greenrider's answer now. "I feel like I've been drinking non-stop for three days and just now came up for air." Oh, proddiness. He frowns. "I don't even know if it's normal." Which must be why he wrote the note to the healer, right? "Drink?" He offers as his hand moves to the bottle to top off his own glass. Fortunately the blue isn't here now. Maybe Oliwer made sure to feed him into a stupor before coming over. No wonder he's chubby! "That does sound... unpleasant." Oliwer glances at the bottle but he looks uncertain. And perhaps slightly concerned. "Is this meant to be an official visit, G'laer?" Apparently the answer to that will affect his own answer, one way or another. "Not really." G'laer answers with a little bit of a sigh, looking at his waiting drink. "I just figured that you've talked to your share of riders in your time here and would know better than most. It might just because of who caught. And the fact that his rider is--" The greenrider winces and then closes his eyes. "He's just a kid." Which does not make G'laer even a little bit happy, evidently. He must have had at least a drink or two already himself because he's been candid before, but this is rather a different level of candid. Oliwer isn't actually one to drink very often. But there must be something about the situation that makes him lift the glass to let G'laer fill it. "I can't claim to be any expert on dragonriders. Not in that regard, anyway. I don't have the proper, uh, context, I suppose." He's not sure that's the right word but he'll let it stand. "But I can tell you that it's natural to have... feelings. After the fact." He's definitely no mindhealer, that's for sure. The bottle tips until the mouth finds the rim of Oliwer's uplifted glass and it's filled to a moderate degree, like G'laer's, and then the bottle is set back on the table so the greenrider can pick up his glass. "That's not how it was supposed to go down," There's frustration there, not as hidden as it might otherwise be. "It's the first time I've gotten laid in over two turns, maybe more. It was supposed to be someone I wouldn't feel guilty about getting off with so I could be on my way. It's not like I need much in that way," Sex, "But two turns was getting-- well." Despite everything else he's said, it's now that his cheeks show a trace of blush. "I don't feel good about it. And the kid hates me, understandably, so that makes it worse because I can't even really apologize to him and have it mean anything." The drink is downed in short order. Too fast, probably for what it should have been. Oliwer has been living at the Weyr for awhile now. But he's still a holder at heart. Fortunately professionalism helps him not look that uncomfortable about this particular topic. One good thing about being a healer! He looks at his glass for a long few moments before actually taking a drink. "You shouldn't feel guilty, G'laer. It wasn't your fault. And this... kid. He shouldn't hate you, certainly, but." There's not much he can do from that angle right now. "And you shouldn't have to apologize for anything. It's just part of being a dragonrider. Your dragons mate," he makes a circular gesture that fills in for the 'you have sex' part so he doesn't have to say it so directly, "And then you move on." He doesn't ask a lot of questions about the other rider since he's not here for him. "Well, no." G'laer's objection is raised as he reaches for the bottle to refill the glass. "The kid has every right to hate me." He's frowning as he lifts the glass again. "I took bounties. As side-work." In the guard. "This kid... he had a bounty on him back when Rone was alive and making his bid for Nabol. The bounty wasn't worth doing on its own, but there were a few others and most of them were rumored to have taken shelter at the Weyr. I was hunting him. Before we both Impressed. And he knew it. He's got a right to hate me." He frowns, "Especially since it turns out that the claims made on the bounty were false, or at least, not all true." He taps the glass on the table once and then raises it, this time having the self-restraint to sip instead of gulp. Then G'laer is rising and moving the few paces to the hearth, reaching one hand up to lean his weight against the mantel and stare at the flames. His expression is unsettled, which for G'laer, probably means this is affecting him deeply. "Oh." That's all Oliwer can really say at first. Clearly he assumed it was all flight-related hate, nothing with any solid basis. But as there is, particularly in an area he's even less familiar with than flights (which, granted, isn't a very high bar), the journeyman seems uncertain how to proceed. "But... you aren't hunting him now, correct?" Oliwer stays where he's sitting, watching the greenrider with a concerned expression on his face. It's not permanent. Really. Just like G'laer doesn't look permanently serious. "No. Haven't been since we Impressed. It does sort of change everything." The man lets a sigh slip and he pushes off from the mantle, turning instead to lean his back against the wall on one side of the hearth, bowing his body and he takes another sip of his drink. "I know that it's the dragons. My mind knows that. But it still feels wrong to have gotten my rocks off with that kid." Nevermind that the kid in question is seventeen. He shakes his head and then the rest of the drink is swallowed. The glass in Oliwer's hand doesn't make it to his mouth very often but he takes a sip before he notes, "And feeling that way only proves that you're a decent man, G'laer." He does have to wonder, and now seems as good a time as any to ask, "Would you feel any better if it had been a girl? If it's not only your history with this particular boy that's bothering you." "Not if the girl were seventeen." G'laer answers, pushing away from the wall. "If he'd been twenty, or more, it wouldn't be so bad. But he's just a kid." There's hesitation there for a moment and then the greenrider is moving to the table to stand beside it now, placing down his glass and reaching for the refill bottle. "I've been with men before. A long time ago, but." But it still counts. "Not that--" He starts, and then there's a swallow and the blush in his cheeks returns, "I'm not usually on the receiving end." Not that Oliwer probably needed to know that. It means G'laer's reaching for his drink again. "Kid he may be, he's still a dragonrider with a sexually mature dragon. Same as you. If it weren't you, it would have been someone else." And this is so much more easy to focus on than the rest of what G'laer says. But Oliwer is too polite to just ignore it. Not so polite that there isn't an undertone of red in his skin. "It's... it's good that this wasn't your first, at least. It wasn't, was it? I suppose after so long, it might still be uncomfortable. Everything's... well?" There are probably less awkward ways he could ask that but those are for less awkward moments. Blue eyes find Oliwer's face and linger. It's his first words that G'laer is considering so long in silence. But once he's had a chance to mull them over, there's slowly first a nod and then a long exhale that has some of the obvious tension in the dragonrider's frame leaving it. "It wasn't my first. But nothing's broken." Even if his expression does agree with 'uncomfortable' as an assessment. "It didn't really scratch the itch the way I hoped it would," he admits after a moment, and this seems to be the bigger conundrum now that his conscience has had some soothing. "No?" asks Oliwer before he can think better of it. He does keep himself from asking what would, anyway, but there are certain curiosities the journeyman can't entirely hide. Dragonriders are rather fascinating, after all. He takes another sip from his glass before setting it aside and leaning forward to pick up his bag. Then he's rising to his feet and setting it on the table, opening it up as he asks, "Were you thinking a massage might help?" A shake of G'laer's head answers the first. Then he sets down his glass, looking at it thoughtfully. "Can't hurt. They do relax me." Then his eyes flick to the healer, "Would you mind? I didn't really mean for you to come here to work tonight." The greenrider's already reaching to pull his shirt off, so if Oliwer is going to say 'no,' he'd better say it quickly. |
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