Logs:Srsly
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| RL Date: 21 September, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Lycinea |
| Type: [[Concept:{{{type}}}|{{{type}}}]] |
| What: After H'vier makes a Bad Man move, stupid Lycinea somehow thinks it's a good idea to confront him and scold him... in his own weyr. |
| Where: H'vier's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 13, Month 11, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Reference to male-on-female assault and other Bad Man behaviors. |
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| It's a gutsy move, there's no question about it. At least, for Reisoth's sake, she did her puking off the edge of the ledge once she was delivered. And she waited in the lee of the opening leading into the inner wear, her arms folded across her shoulders. She looks frumpy, in her too many layers of sweaters, but what's a girl to wear when she's up this high without a coat? Once the pair get back from their duties, or whatever it is that they were off doing, H'vier pauses at the point where he notices Lycinea. He stares at her for a moment, brows furrowing, then continues on his way into his weyr as though he'll just pretend that the girl is not actually intruding on his privacy and personal space. She hides her nervousness poorly until she's squared her shoulders and sets her jaw, not quite stomping after him once he's passed her. "You owe me a new coat." Lya half-demands. "I'm going to freeze to death this winter without one and it'll be all your fault." "Go find one in the stores," says the bronzerider, entirely unapologetic. "What are you doing here? It's not polite to barge into someone's weyr without being invited." Does H'vier see the irony there? It's hard to tell right now. "It's not polite to get drunk and force yourself on an innocent girl, either," Lycinea will point it out to him, don't worry! "So I guess that makes us perfectly suited to one another because we're both rude. But you started it." Never let it be forgotten! "Am I the first one? Or have there been others?" She's still following him, looking quite cross. "Do you have any idea how very not okay that was? Do you just assume everyone with tits wants you even when she's said plainly that she doesn't?" "Your innocence, if it even exists, is still perfectly intact from what I remember." His memory of the encounter may not be as crystal clear as hers, but H'vier still has the basics down. The rest earns no response from the bronzerider as he crosses toward where he keeps his booze to pour himself a drink. He's obviously going to need it if he has to listen to her. "I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Lycinea volunteers. "That you didn't succeed is somehow supposed to make it alright?" She demands. H'vier turns to face Lycinea, brows furrowed again and glass in hand. He lifts it up to sniff at the liquid before asking, "What did you do to it?" "Nothing that will kill you," Lycinea answers, hands going to her hips. "Which might be less than you deserve since I can't help but assume I'm not the first girl. And maybe you've been more successful with others." She's frowning at him. Then she stalks closer. It's probably a mistake, but she lets her hands slide to her sides, "But you won't like to drink it now. You should be sober for this." She steps even closer into his personal space, and blinks big blue-green eyes up at him. It's quite the neck-crane for her since he has nearly a foot on her. "H'vier, you can't do that to girls." She probably means to include women as well. "It's not okay. Tell me you understand." The bronzerider looks at his drink as though he's not entirely convinced that Lycinea has done anything to it at all. But he's apparently not going to risk it so he looks down at her instead, frowning. "You're either very brave or very stupid to come up here by yourself, girl. I could do anything I wanted to you up here. Tell me how that's supposed to convince me that you don't really want it?" Her hands are on her hips again, her expression taking on a distinctly stubborn look. "Maybe I'm both. You could but you won't. It's not right. You still haven't told me you understand." Which annoys Lycinea. "And anyway, the elevator dragon is checking for me every half hour." Because nothing can happen in that amount of time, right? "I want to like you, you know. As a friend. But you make it sharding difficult when you get drunk and attack me." Her hands leave her hips to give his chest a little shove. It's not really... she's a weakling, really, so it's not likely to do more than feel like a poke of her fingertips against his abdomen. The way H'vier moves to grab Lycinea's wrist is quick, almost reflexive. The grip he finds is firm, but not necessarily painful. It's to make a point, not to hurt her. And that point is, evidently, that he's bigger and stronger than she is, that he's probably more dangerous when he's sober than when he's drunk. "I don't have friends. And what makes you think I care about what's right?" Briefly, very briefly, Lycinea looks scared before her stubbornness is reasserting itself. "You could have me," then she seems to realize how that sounds and qualifies quickly, "As a friend. Don't pretend you don't like me because I know you do." Then she makes what is probably her biggest mistake: taking about the woman she knows nothing about. "She'd want you to care, wouldn't she? The woman you love?" She's never seen his rage face before so Lycinea might not recognize it right away. Fortunately, he's been working on his temper, so his first reaction is only that his hand, unconsciously, closes more tightly, more painfully around her wrist. Lya is not one to hide when she's in pain or grin and bear it, so, "Ow!" comes loudly and swiftly and her other hand rises to try to pry his fingers looser. It's not the 'ow' that H'vier responds to. It might not even be her fingers trying to free herself. But once he does respond, he lets go with a small shove and turns away to set his glass down. "She wouldn't want you to be my friend. She would assume we were fucking and she would hate you for it. Everyone will assume that we're fucking. Is that what you want?" He sort of has a reputation. Lycinea stumbles back a pair of steps and her eyes narrow angrily: once again, not the best reaction to have. She watches him, well, his back, anyway, and her anger shifts to deep thought. "Actually, yeah. That's fine. They all already assume I'm probably up for anyone who'll have me," whoever they are. "You might've noticed that I don't really care what anyone else thinks." Not even him. Shocker. "But no more attacking girls. That's still not okay." Her jaw sets again and her arms fold across her chest. When he's set aside the glass, H'vier moves to sit down on his couch. Being on his feet is probably not in anyone's best interests. And there, too, he can work at getting his boots off while he's lectured by the girl half his size. "Has it occured to you that maybe I like that it's not okay? Maybe I like when you're afraid of me. When you struggle to get away and can't because I'm stronger than you and there's nothing you can do about it." That either means he has been successful before or he's trying to force a reaction out of her. Lycinea has, at least, the sense to second-guess herself, if only for the moment where her arms drop to her sides and she pivots slowly to follow him with her eyes. "If you really liked it that way," she starts, perhaps glad she's standing over here, "you wouldn't be bothering with the likes of me. You'd be busy forcing yourself on her. " Then a thought seems to occur to her. "Unless she's dead. Is she dead?" "No. Faranth. She's not dead. She hates me. But that's how it needs to be." H'vier settles back against his couch, agitated. A drink would be really nice right now. "Shouldn't you go tell your ride I haven't killed you yet?" And maybe leave, while she's at it. "Well, then, see." Lycinea answers as if this proves her point. "If you really liked it not okay and wanted her to hate you, you'd be busy forcing yourself on her." She glances toward the ledge, "Is my ride here?" she asks, without moving. Then, "Do you really want everyone to hate you so much?" Perceptive little git, isn't she? "I've considered it. But the Weyrleader threatened to transfer me if I hurt her again." Again. That's probably important for Lycinea to pick out of those words. "No," H'vier says about her ride. Then, about everyone hating him, "Yes." Lycinea swallows involuntarily as the 'again' does, indeed, make an impression on her. She's silent some moments. She looks at him, thinking hard again. Then, "Okay." Simply that. "Let me know if you change your mind." Beat. "And don't try to get my pants off again, or I'll tell." Fair warning. Then she's plodding toward the ledge, her fingers twisting into the yarn of the top-most layer of sweater. H'vier is staring at the cold hearth and his gaze doesn't break away from that to look at Lycinea when she turns away to start heading for the ledge. It's only his voice that follows her. "There's a jacket. Last one on the left. Take it." It's well-worn, this jacket, clearly older than the others. But it's still high quality and in decent condition. And it will have to do until he can replace the other one with something more suited to the girl it isn't sized for. It probably wouldn't make him happy, given the conversation they just had, that Lya's lips bloom in a smile. It's one she would deny later, but that Reisoth certainly sees when she comes onto the ledge, pulling the much-too-big-for-her but way-better-than-nothing jacket on over her sweaters. The over-sizedness makes her less less frumpy, as it happens, more just a girl wearing her beau's jacket. If he was worried about the rumors, well, this is only fuel to the fire. She glances to the dragon and then steps off toward the opposite side from the one he occupies and crouches down, but doesn't sit, to wait for the elevator dragon. It shouldn't be long now. There's no other comments from inside of the weyr. There aren't any sounds at all. H'vier probably won't move from where he's sitting for some time. Reisoth, however, watches Lycinea openly until her ride comes to take her away. That's just what he does. |
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