Logs:So Much For Plausible Deniability
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| RL Date: 6 October, 2012 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: Iesaryth and Aishani (Brieli) turn up in N'rov and Vhaeryth's weyr unannounced again. By the end of the night, her plans are their plans. |
| Where: N'rov's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day {{{day}}}, Month {{{month}}}, Turn {{{turn}}} ({{{IP}}} {{{IP2}}}) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Lujayn/Mentions |
| It might be raining at Fort, which is pretty miserable, but it's not /snowing/ - and that alone makes it a vast improvement over High Reaches today. That might explain why Iesaryth, /still/ growing, has squeezed onto Vhaeryth's ledge this evening, why the downpour doesn't bother her so much, though it's somewhat suited to her thoughts. Thoughts which are kind enough to drift the bronze's way, carried on the tide and crisp sea air. « We are here. It is warmer. » Not that it bothers her /as/ much, but her rider isn't too happy about the situation, which she images in the dark of night with drifts and mounds of snow. Some mounds might be buried dragons. She may or may not be exaggerating. So, when Vhaeryth returns home from lands that are at least a /little/ less soggy than Fort (which is less snowy than High Reaches which is less snowy than... the snowy wastes themselves, maybe), he's pleased: pleased to poke towards those tidal waters even before he descends to wing back and forth and back and forth in front of his ledge itself. A touch teasingly, « Go in, Iesaryth. No need to shiver. » Nor even to risk it. Inside's even warmer, or should be, if the banked coals haven't entirely gone out. And then he'll have room to land. In his head, when she's not looking, one or two of the snowy mounds... /move/. Iesaryth will have Vhaeryth know that she was quite enjoying watching the rain, and wasn't cold at all - but she will go /in/, due to warmth and necessity both, if he insists. She moves fast enough for all she's edging towards 'huge'. Though that might not be the best word to use. « Welcome back. » The waves are as bright and sunny as they ever are for him, pleased herself to now have company. Inside, the coals haven't gone out, nor have the glows that were left... though there is a suspicious sort of quiet, like /someone/ may have fallen asleep. Not likely what was intended. Blame the pillow. In that case, Vhaeryth hears and witnesses, and he's lean enough (and the weyr itself is just large enough, unlike the ledge proper) to slither past even her growing self if she'd like to swap spots. Not that he does, yet. Rather, gravely (gravely teasing), « You may stick your head out, if you like. » Or the rest of her. He won't /make/ her stay, not with his slightly-wet self that his rider's dismounted to towel dry, just after he gets his straps off and gets them dry too. Straps are off. Not going anywhere, for awhile, or at least not with N'rov. Eventually, the rider makes it further in, muttering something about how he maybe shouldn't get a couch after all, and glances up to the sleeping loft with a slight smile before changing and climbing up. He's quiet. Wouldn't want to wake her. If she /is/ really asleep, this time. Iesaryth will arrange herself where ever works best for Vhaeryth - she's not that particular about where she visits (for all that she's particular enough about her own space and so forth), not even that picky about getting wet, should Vhaeryth do so on his way in. And they'd have to go far and further to beat snow /and/ rain, which sadly, they do need riders for - though his might get a snort for mutterings. She heard that. And she's certainly not going to rat Aishani out if she /hasn't/ managed to stay up for N'rov's return... which appears to be the case. There's no ribbons, this time, though bare shoulders might suggest she's at least undressed, so that's a bonus. And as quiet as he is, she's never been one to sleep heavily - much too paranoid for that. There's a start and she sits up a little, blinking fuzzily until her gaze falls on him. With a sigh and a little smile, abashed, "Sorry." For sleeping or for jumping? That snort yields a perplexed glance from Vhaeryth, a bemused sort of attention that finally becomes words: « You mind growing? » Mind having grown? Mind his rider, whom she really needn't take personally? (It's not her. It's him.) His rider, who's rather more focused on hers, that smile slipping away from his mouth but warming further within his eyes. "Don't suppose I woke you from something good? ... Cold hands," as though she couldn't have guessed, wouldn't soon know as he crawls into his own Aishani-warmed furs. « No. I just do not like to get in the way. » It's Iesaryth's inherent manners that make her concerned with such things, less her size than how it might be inconvenient. She didn't take it /personally/, not something Vhaeryth should worry himself with. « If you do worry. » That's teasing as well; she does not connect the two things in her mind. Her rider is likewise intent on his - big surprise - but it's just a little sleepier, a little less focused. And though she's likely guessed at cold hands, curling away playfully if and when he reaches for her, she's bright-eyed. "No... no to /hands/, I mean. Nothing I can remember." « Why? » Not that Vhaeryth's arguing that she shouldn't, nor that there's no reason to, only: which reason is /hers/. If he worries, occasionally, about certain things, just now it's more that he's focused. And not focused on potentially-tickling hands, either. Once N'rov's curled up into the warm furry cave, he peers back at her, one-eyed due to the angle of the pillow. No reaching yet, no. Yet. "If you say so," he agrees amiably, not the implied accusation those words could mean in a different tone of voice. "I should tell Y'ral not to drop in on me unannounced, I think." It takes Iesaryth some time to consider the why, as she seems to take Vhaeryth's interest seriously enough to give it thought. As she settles into a lean against the rock of the wall, « When I visit other places, I do not like to cause any issues. I should not be complacent about such things. » Though she's not overly territorial, she certainly knows dragons that /are/. To prevent any reaching with super-chilly hands, Aishani will catch his in her warm ones - it'll de-freeze them a little, at least. She's not defensive, but... "I'd tell you if I did." With a kiss to his fingers - her lips are warm too - "...Or maybe I shouldn't drop in on you unannounced. I could warn you." It's not apologetic, but close. Time enough, then, that Vhaeryth can yawn once or twice, that his eyes can shade darker and bluer as naptime nears. Or appears to near. Her lean gets a bemused glance: is it comfortable? Can it be? At least the wall is not falling over, though it seems that he might hardly mind if it did. It only deepens his humor: « And when you are at your home? » though that possessive's underlaid with a subliminal whisper of metal against metal. "Mmm. Tell me more," N'rov says, blinking that one eye at her as she has her sweet way with his fingers. "You could," he does agree... as far as that goes, because, "I like it when you do." Drop in. Unannounced or otherwise. His fingers apply just a little gentle pressure, now, to trace along her brow. "Maybe someday there'll be a group of thieves stealing inside to make off with my old boots, and you'll defend them, at least after some dramatic declaiming." Iesaryth might get caught by one of those yawns, roped into one of her own, if only because /she/ was paying attention while other people were sleeping. And she supposes it is not uncomfortable; where does he lean, if he does? Any thoughts about collapsing walls are bypassed in favor of her response: « When I am at my home, I am not as concerned with such things. » Also, their weyr is gigantic. Quirking a half-smile at his one-eyed regard, Shani kisses his hands again after he's traced the line of her brow, before releasing them, mostly unthawed, to do their worst. "It's not always easy for me to stay asleep," she'll admit, quietly. "It could be dreams, but I don't always remember." That smile grows into a full one, perhaps because he likes finding her here, or maybe due to the image he's painted. "A whole group, just for boots. I might drop in more often, if only to see if that might happen. A stolen clothing ring." So of course, predictable as it may be, Vhaeryth has to get his near wing further out of the way and then aim to lean on /her/. Since she's gotten so big, and all. A great big salty-sea pillow. « Not as concerned, » he repeats helpfully, increasingly sleepily. It's enough to make his rider yawn, at least as long as she doesn't start poking. "Mmm. Stolen clothing. I should steal your clothing," and he reaches down under the covers as though to find some, because that's surely where she'd keep them to get nice and wrinkly. But before things get too far, "Have you asked her?" A tip of his head denotes the outer weyr. Iesaryth doesn't mind Vhaeryth's leaning in the least - surely, she's rested against him often enough, and now that he's dry, the bronze is pleasantly warm against her own hide. Snaking her head around to bump noses with him, rest against his, « I like to be polite. » And if her own eyes are closing, surely that's all his fault. Aishani doesn't seem quite as tired, but then, she's gotten some rest; she doesn't seem inclined to poke, more to slide arms around him and move in closer. "What clothing?" she asks, blinking at him in an attempt at wide-eyed innocence before /that/ falls apart with a laugh. "Mmm... No, I haven't. I didn't think to." Or didn't want to. Her own gaze flickers that way as well. "Do you think she'd remember?" « You do, » Vhaeryth agrees with a low rumble that could have been laughter... unless that's just the thunder outside. An odd trait, a foreign trait, yet somehow endearing. Vhaeryth yawns, but this time, N'rov laughs. "Ha," he says, and lifts up so he can lean over her, the better to smile at her with both eyes. The better, really, to /see/ her with both eyes. "Careful, or you'll get sketched that way for my own personal dragonpoker deck." He blinks both eyes at her, only to open them just a lazy, appreciative fraction: handy things, glows. "I don't know. But she does seem... attentive. Not that you should have to ask on my account." But on hers? He can laugh, he can find it odd and/or endearing - Iesaryth isn't bothered, just bright, even if sun-on-waves has shifted to moonlight, the sway of the ocean is less a roar than a soft, constant rhythm. Even so, « Why is it funny? » It's merely curious. Always, even with Vhaeryth yawning away against her. Shifting to look up at him, her dark hair tangled, spread across the pillow, Shani lifts a finger to trace the line of his jaw, down his throat. Arching fine brows, "All wide-eyed, or naked? If it's the latter, I'd hope it'd be personal." There's amusement warming her tone, with a slow smile to follow. "Attentive," she echoes. "And maybe. I'm not sure I want to know." Despite N'rov thinking maybe she should. Lightly, "Maybe they're just about you." Merely. His rider might not settle for 'merely' anything, but Vhaeryth can (perhaps it's the lull of the surf?) approach mellowness, at least today. Why: it's something to mull over, to let float on the nearest wave, up and down and up and down but slowly, giving time to glance down from above or up from below. Why. The wave rolls, and the thin skiff of metal floats, saltwater leaving insubstantial traces like the ghost of fire. Perhaps it's something that's different between them (never mind that the bronze chooses to /behave/, sometimes), perhaps that it's something that he might predict about her, something that he knows. Perhaps it's something that others don't think of, at least until it's /required/. Perhaps it's that it may change, or may not, as she continues to live. Perhaps it owes little to logic at all. It lends bemusement to N'rov's features, looking down, tucking his bristly chin so it can bump against her finger before she goes too far. "I wasn't thinking," not that he /had/ been thinking before just now when the idea sprang to mind, "that I'd have to choose. Though they could manipulate the pose, so not much would have to show..." It's so distracting, but manfully he gets back to, "That must be it. All about me." Only, anymore, he doesn't look as distracted as all that. Why not be something close to mellow if Iesaryth is so often? And she's not able to lie all that well (without being found out, anyway), so it may just be her constant interest in everything, particularly Vhaeryth - now and again, at least. The waves are as calm and gentle as they ever are, the metal boat safe from capsizing this night. Fascinated by the coloring the salt leaves behind, she is easy to accept his reasoning, content to close eyes as she considers all those possibilities. That finger of Aishani's might make a little detour to brush against N'rov's lips, before she drops her hand to the pillow. With a grin, "Of course you wouldn't have to choose. I haven't said I'm all right with it, you know." Though, if he were entirely serious, would she deny him? Pursing lips for the distinct lack of distraction, and converse focus on her potential issues, "Too much to hope that you'd buy that, or let it go?" Still, she's not annoyed, shrugging a little. "I can ask. It might be less not wanting to know, more... not wanting to know how much she's aware of." Why not, indeed! But then, if he's leaning against her, perhaps that makes him close to mellow already: as close as it might get, this night, the little boat veering off out to sea in search of who knows what dream. "You haven't? Why, I missed that," his rider claims meanwhile, nosing at the straying finger as it goes by, and his smile widens: she can hope that all she likes. Except that he'd not press, it's just that she does go on, and so a little while later he says in response, quieter, "That, I understand." Dragons. "Does writing make it easier, to have her not hear? I remember your last letter." There's a brief sparkle of appreciation on the waves, even in just moonlight. And she might just follow that boat for a little while, before sinking into the depths, /almost/ all the fish going still in the darkness. There's the flicker of a glance towards the ledge from her rider before she'll mirror that smile, her gaze still warm, dark eyes meeting grey. There's only an arch of fine brows for that claim, skeptical - then more easily for his quiet admission, "She's too smart. It's a little disturbing sometimes." The question though - that earns a few moments of silence before, "Sometimes, it makes it easier. But I get the sense she'll find what she wants." Not that she's hiding things, no. Speaking of which, careful, "About that... have you actually considered what I asked?" /Almost/. Off the boat floats, with no visible sense of propulsion, yet directed somehow all the same. His rider's just got a brief nod, for the description of Iesaryth's intelligence. For the rest, in the end he sits up towards the tiny glowbaskets, shuttering each. The stars are up there, somewhere, but down here it's dark, and they just can't see. Better, they don't have to. "I'd like to know," he says, "what's important to you, 'Shani. What's going on. What, yes, you're planning. Unofficially, for now, if that doesn't make it harder yet." She blinks up at him for a moment as he starts turning out the lights, her expression bemused while it's still lit, even dimly. When it's dark, Aishani is quiet - not long enough to make things uncomfortable, but long enough to listen and consider all that afterward. Fingers shifting, closing around one of his wrists, she murmurs, "You're important to me. And she is. Being able to have some sort of /control/. And I'll admit, in my worst moments... I want to see my Weyrleader broken. Because he took something from me." If he has a problem with any of that, she pauses long enough to let him speak out, kick her out of bed, whatever. Then, "I think I can make sure he catches her." She can feel, then, his pulse quickening: slowly at first, then kicking faster. It doesn't take much. He shifts, doesn't struggle, lets her keep that much more control: of his wrist, at the very least. "'Shani." It's just her name, or at least that part of her name, in the pause. He doesn't stop her. He also doesn't speak until after he's caught his breath again. "How?" Her uneven breath might be the only indication of how anxious she is after that - or would be, if she weren't so close to him, close enough to feel the tension start to release her body. She might even tremble a little in the wake of it all. His name is barely a whisper, against his wrist once she's loosened her fingers. Again, over a sigh, "N'rov." It doesn't take more than a beat before, "I can't let her go up there. I won't. Not with /him/, even if he ran from Rielsath. I can't - so I won't." A breath, before - so, so quiet - "We can go somewhere no one else knows. No one but..." "Can we?" He rides right into her ellipsis. "It wouldn't risk her?" He has no one else to ask, not about this. She can't lie, not about this. "It's... not entirely /safe/, but if I pay attention... It's not as if she can hide much." True in most things, about this? "Her color is deep enough that it might be easy to miss." A swallow, then: "We can. We /will/." That's determination in her tone rarely heard outside the topic of vengeance. He reaches for her, to run a no-longer-cold hand down her arm, only then instead he finds himself pulling her closer without any rational thought involved. "She might call someone else. You should have seen Elaruth..." He strives to keep his own voice even. "We'll have to find somewhere. Somewhere well out of the way, somewhere with beasts, somewhere that's nowhere near a Hold." She's more than fine with being pulled close, her own arms slipping around him, holding him tightly to her. Her heartbeat is easier to feel, as quick as his for all that there's relief in her whisper. "I know," she assures. "I know. But even if she does, even if they can /find/ us... it could be nearly over by then." She can't stop herself from kissing him now, from breathing, "We can. South, maybe. I'm so..." She can't finish the sentence - maybe unburdened, maybe just glad he's not telling her no - but her kisses are definitely appreciative. "Anything in the Records about that?" he only half teases, and that's only after kissing her back, deeply. Thinking out loud, "If we did learn, if we could time it... but there would be dragons anywhen," anywhen that's not unthinkable. "And you think she might object?" Again careful, after that kiss, "Nothing on that... though the timing... I haven't found /it/, but I think I know where to look." A smile apparent in her voice, easier now that her plans (that affect him) aren't all pent up waiting to come out, "There would be dragons at any point, but maybe less somewhere, somewhen?" Then there's a full laugh, though quiet. "No... I don't think she would now. I just wonder if it might be easier to get her to /go/ if she's not entirely aware. If she's not already aware." "Maybe less, but I don't want to risk you, /either/ of us getting dragon-less," N'rov says, easing off on that last word as though only then aware of the repetition. "Maybe it would be. Or maybe if she knew she could get used to the idea, could plan /with/ you. If she were convinced, if she'd remember. I don't know. I have no idea." Consciously, he slows his voice back down. "I hope, too... there hasn't been a gold that's just outrun everyone forever, has there? Except maybe in someone's pipe dream? It's not that he's /slow/, he's ordinarily so fast, so quick to respond," so not modest (unless that's just N'rov), "but flights, so far, forget it." "I don't want to risk too much either. Not her - not you, not him. No." Aishani is certain about that, shrugging a little, even as wrapped around him as she is. "We can see. And... I suppose that's a fair point. It'd be easier on me, as well. I feel terrible hiding things from her, now. As if everyone else isn't enough." Not too weary there, not /too/ melodramatic; the trials of living multiple lives. And she's very sure there's no trace of humor in her tone for, "I doubt that. If everyone is right about 'wanting' to be caught, I assume it'll happen. She's not too quick herself." A long moment before awkwardly, "I'm hoping this isn't the sort of thing that requires practice." That bit of a shrug only leads to a bit closer tug, though perhaps /that's/ something other than reassurance at play. "We shouldn't have to hide things from ours." Not that they don't, anyway. N'rov doesn't urge, not about that, but a hint of humor does crawl up into /his/ tone. "I see. No, I can't see her liking to be told to go up, bugle a few times, and practice close flying." If it's a misunderstanding, it might be willful. With a pleased sound low in her throat for that tug, as she presses the long lines of her body against him, "You're right." N'rov is /right/. Write down the date. Maybe it's that Aishani's not inclined to put up much of a fight on this particular point, or maybe just not right now. She can't help but laugh a little again; warmly, "No. I think she might figure something's up." Nothing she wants to clear up. "I... you're so..." There's things she still can't offer easily, but maybe the way she kisses him, slow and intent, is enough. 'Right' apparently doesn't translate to 'no longer distractible,' because kissing like that's apt to send him to grunt duty the next morning as an exhausted but happy man, if the way N'rov kisses Shani back is any indication. At least, barring /more/ plans to confess! Nothing more to confess, not tonight - anything Shani says after that is more likely to be obscene that suitable for conversation. And she's none too bothered to be likewise exhausted for her trip home in the morning, in fact much more relaxed that she's been in past weeks now that she's a few less secrets. CommentsK'del (K'del) left a comment on Sat, 06 Oct 2012 08:46:25 GMT.
My poor character. So maligned. You plotty planny people, you.
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Comments
K'del (K'del) left a comment on Sat, 06 Oct 2012 08:46:25 GMT.
Waaaah. :(
My poor character. So maligned.
You plotty planny people, you.
Brieli (Brieli) left a comment on Sat, 06 Oct 2012 16:02:44 GMT.
She said in her worst moments! It's a start!
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