Logs:A Lovely Day for a Lovely Picnic
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| RL Date: 2 September, 2014 |
| Who: G'laer, Ghena, Oliwer |
| Type: Log |
| What: Ghena crashes G'laer and Oliwer's lovely picnic and then G'laer has explaining to do (thanks, Ghena!). |
| Where: Lake Shore and Bookworm's Paradise Weyr (G'laer and Oliwer's), High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 9, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: A'rist/Mentions, Gallania/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Laghnei/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself. A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs. 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.
A picnic isn't a thing that Oliwer asks for very often, even if he rather enjoys them, so he's probably downright thrilled, if vaguely suspicious, when it's G'laer that broaches the subject. Any suspicion he might have had at the time has long since faded, though, and now the healer is enjoying the view of his shirtless weyrmate, caught in the act, for which he is shameless, when G'laer's relaxed moment passes and there are grapes offered. He, of course, hasn't set foot in the lake and his own shirt is very unlikely to bare any part of him that it's not meant to. Was it secretly planned or does G'laer's family have an age old history of party crashing? The familiar silver-blue streak that goes plunging from the air into the deep end of the lake after depositing one lanky bluerider. She even offers an unrepentant grin, "Ollie my boy, you bring out the best in my oaf of a brother. And it is a pleasure to finally properly meet you!" G'laer...is unamused. There he was, having a perfectly lovely picnic, and then there's (one of) his little sister(s). His blue gaze moves away from Oliwer and to the slender brunette. "Ghena." That's probably for the "my boy". Oliwer is only old enough to be her father, easily. "You're interrupting our date." If it was secretly planned, G'laer's playing dumb well. Of course, only Laghnei has thus far warranted a formal willing introduction. Oliwer is... confused at the first use of his familiar nickname. But less confused when he looks at the source and Ghena continues. Right, one of G'laer too numerous sisters. He probably knew that, but he meets a lot of people and they don't always click into place right away. All the same, his response is a warm smile as he says, "No, no. It's quite all right. Would you like to join us for a bit, Ghena?" For a bit. That's important. G'laer might notice it even if the bluerider doesn't. She smiles at Oliwer, "Only for a little while, I just wanted to meet the man who has my brother behaving so sweetly, and can run off our mother without batting an eye." Clearly those are high praise for the bluerider. "I won't invade long Grr. I promise." She offers with a crossing of her heart, striding over and plopping down crosslegged away from the actual picnic blanket itself. "I'm sure you've already met his favorite sister." Which might have sounded petulant, but bears more humor in context. "So what have you both been up to?" Sweetly. The Sweet G'laer frowns in a way that might even be termed threatening. Then he shifts to lie back and close his eyes. If he pretends Ghena isn't here... Will she go away? Apparently not. That's about the time that she promises and he grunts, keeping his eyes shut. "Fun and sun." The contrasting tone to the words makes it sound like the most laborious thing ever. Sweet G'laer is, in point of fact, Surly. "Ah," says Oliwer, uncertain. "I'm not sure that's quite how I'd prefer your family remember me in the long run. But I suppose it will have to do for now." He nods his head at mention of Laghnei but he doesn't otherwise acknowledge the favoriteness of that particular sister. He's an only child. Maybe he doesn't understand! "Right. Fun and sun. We don't get to do this as often as we'd like." Not as often as he'd like, anyway. "Busy schedules." "Don't worry about it too much, its just a sign that you'll fit in fine with our particular brand of disfunction." Cheerful chirpy even. "Mm, well hopefully you'll get to do it even more frequently. I am getting the sense I am interrupting some much needed quality time, but we should do dinner sometime." One that isn't Ghena literally falling out of the sky to interrupt a date. "She's right." These two words rarely come out of G'laer's mouth but they do now, because she is. He still hasn't opened his eyes. "You're here now," suddenly willing to let her terry, because... dinner? Another time? "Ghena and I were clutchmates," he relates to Oliwer, in case he's never mentioned that. "Her Knioth makes her write poetry." Is that enough getting to know each other? His eyes open as he raises a brow at the bluerider before filling in the other side. "Oli is a trauma healer; we met when my shoulder was acting up during weyrlinghood. He likes good wine and his fat firelizard." Oops. Is G'laer not supposed to call the firelizard-child fat? The healer doesn't seem sure how to take the admittance of dysfunction or the fact that G'laer agrees with his sister. So he'll just not do that, too. He listens at the greenrider offers up information. He continues as information about him is offered, too. But it's the last that earns a scolding sort of look and a light shove with one of Oliwer's bare feet against his weyrmate. "Is it good poetry?" is what he asks, though. Of Ghena, not G'laer. Ghena blinks, and there is a moment of basking in those two wonderful words. She's matured enough at least not to say I told you so. "Trama, so when big unexpected injuries happen you're the man to go to?" She asks, before cringing at the word poetry, "Usually not. Every once in a great while he might come up with something. Usually though it's only when he's busy wooing." "What. You spoil him," is the unrepentant response to the shove. Of course, caring for one's firelizard would seem like spoiling to one whose treatment of his pair of browns and the complete lack of treatment for a silly, useless green that stays only because the browns and Teisyth feed her could be called militaristic. "Mine are getting fat come to think of it," G'laer gives the healer a side-long look, silently accusing. To Ghena, "If you're seeing him for his specialty, you're probably being carried in to see him," a cheery prospect by the tone of his voice. "One of the men you're brought to, I expect, yes," allows Oliwer with a nod to G'laer because he basically says the same thing. It's a nod that results in a lingering, sort of defiant look in regards to the subject of firelizards. "None of them are fat." Except for Oliwer's. But he's going to deny that up and down, just you watch. Besides, the blue can still fly. That's all that matters. Back to Ghena, he asks curiously, "Is that normal for the males? Wooing?" Clearly G'laer doesn't know anything about male dragons. Clearly G'laer should never be trusted with pets or small children. Something Ghena notes. "Are you two going to be like the crazy old feline ladies that you run across on sweeps?" Its a very suspicious expression leveled at the two. She nods to Oliwer. "Very normal, but then since dragon sex is basically awesome, it's hard to blame them for trying. Not all males are that way though, Knioth has always been - well obnoxious." A discordant warble can be heard from the lake where the blue clearly disagrees with the label. "and sensitive." Oliwer gets a look for his denial, and then a roll of his weyrmate's eyes before he's distracted by Ghena. "Don't be stupid," because G'laer shouldn't be trusted with sisters. "I have children." Not cats. Who hate him, judging by the way they generally avoid one another in the caverns (cats would probably hate him too). The greenrider, notably, does not look at Oliwer after Ghena's statement about the quality of dragon sex.The man does let his lips slip into a half-smirk at the warble and in the lake, water sprays a short distance as Teisyth guffaws her own amusement. "You run across crazy old feline ladies on sweeps?" Oliwer asks of both of them, not sure if this is a joke or if she's being serious. Or if it actually matters one way or another. He doesn't make it a habit of asking about sweeps because, truthfully, it's probably never occurred to him that they might be interesting. Or maybe he just assumes G'laer tells him everything interesting. Which proves to be the wrong assumption. The mention of dragon sex and its supposed awesomeness makes Oliwer stare at Ghena for several long, slightly uncomfortable (at least on his end) moments before he's glancing at his weyrmate. Then he's looking back at Ghena and asking the most obvious question. "Awesome for them or...?" For their riders, too? Did people not know about the awesome that is dragonsex. This is where G'laer will likely pay for the stupid comment. "See everything that he feels when he's chasin' it's like directly poured into my brain. So there's your dragon's lust which sort of -" She makes a series of vague gestures. "I mean imagine the most aroused you've ever felt then magnify it by like - a million." She scratches the back of her neck, "Makes even the most sorry lookin' greenrider appealing, and I get no choice in the matter." She tilts her head at her brother a moment. "Then if you lose there's nothing for it but an icy shower or finding some relief. G'laer rides green though so I imagine it's a bit quite a bit different for him. I'm usually so wrapped up in Knioth's mind though I don't even realize who I'm with until waaaaaay after, some folk prefer to have their weyrmates present, to ah, handle the people part. Which might seem even weirder if you ask me, waking up next to some other couple who's just gotten done doing it. But I'm not one to judge. " G'laer does the manly thing and evenly meets Oliwer's gaze when he looks this time, though his expression says nothing at all, so maybe that's worse than if he wasn't looking at him. Then he's staring daggers at Ghena. "You know, I've just been thinking I have so many sisters..." The threat goes unfinished. Teisyth is making quite the set of waves in her rolling chuffs of mirth. For all that Oliwer is generally accepting of the Weyr's various ways, it's probably not just the sunshine that's making his cheeks and ears that slightly pinker color. Maybe it's not even because of the talk of sex. He's a healer, after all. "Well." Well? "That's... Good. I... I think I need to take a walk." He's already rising to his feet, turning in the direction that the greenrider isn't. And if G'laer tries to follow him, he'll be quick to wave that off. He needs to take a walk alone. The whole telling the truth thing, it's tricky. "Not really, but you deal with it." It's when the healer's getting up to leave that alarm sets in. "No no, please I'm the one intruding." It's more like a plea not to be left alone with a murderous greenrider. She doesn't get why it's uncomfortable, but she is very keenly aware that she has now done something wrong. Knioth on the other hand is still sulking, and bobbing on those waves. There was waving required because, indeed, G'laer rose to, well, either stop his weyrmate or follow him as he headed off down the shore. The look he turns on the bluerider is not so much murderous as extremely judgmental. Does she know she done bad? She should feel ashamed. When he speaks, his voice is low and calm. Frightening, right? "Don't you think it's hard enough for him who never Impressed, who only came to a Weyr for the first time only three turns ago, having lived his whole life in places that don't even begin to understand what it can be like for us, to simply have a weyrmate whose lifemate requires him to fuck other people four times a turn? You had to rub it in?" Then, just as perfectly calmly, but a shade darker in both tone and look, "Does it feel good to have hurt him just to vex me?" Ghena's quiet. Real quiet. "He asked, and I just told the truth." It's not quite tears or even the preamble to such things, but as G'laer explains her face goes bone white. "I didn't know, I just -" Thought everyone knew what weyrlife was like and accepted it. She's never had points for intelligence. Scrambling to her feet she makes to scurry off. "I didn't mean to hurt him. You have to know that." But whether or not he believes her she's off to avoid making a bad situation worse. "You just?" G'laer questions, his voice still calm and gaze intensely focused on her. "Ghena, not everyone was raised in a Weyr. Not everyone has parents like ours who love us and accept us whatever our proclivities. I am the first relationship he has ever had, because where he comes from, this," a gesture indicates himself and the healer down the shore, "is not acceptable. He is a good, kind, feeling man, and you have hurt him. You will apologize to him for however inadvertently distressing him." Does he need to say 'or else'? "Yes G'laer," Although it could just as easily be interpreted as yes mom from the tone. Eying the healer down shore she sighs, "Best do this now then." Jogging down until she has caught up with the man. "Look Oliwer, what I said earlier..." Might be heard if she catches him. Or if he slows enough to listen. G'laer does reach to stop Ghena as she takes off; he didn't mean now. But she's gone, and he's sighing, looking to Teisyth and shaking his head. He could chase her down, but Oliwer's probably already embarrassed, so he won't make a scene. Instead, he'll start packing up the picnic, because clearly this good time is done. Oliwer is not an athletic man. His walking has been rather casual in nature, so he's not terribly difficult to catch up with. The bluerider's voice makes him glance over his shoulder, but he doesn't stop, so she'll either have to get left behind (slowly) or walk with him. "You don't need to apologize, Ghena," he tells her whether she follows or not. He knows his weyrmate well enough to figure why she's here now. "It's not your fault I've been... willfully ignorant. I shouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." Or he could have, you know, asked G'laer privately. Maybe it's the healer's words that make it worse, and it's a visible wince at the mention of being willfully ignorant. She shakes her head. "No I should have been tactful, look - for what it's worth? G'laer isn't like me especially when it comes to flights." She starts falling in step. "I can tell he hates even the mere idea of hurting you, and it's something the two of you will have to figure out together. You need to know though, the most human my brother has ever seemed to me, has been since you two weyrmated. He loves you." She lets the words fall and just falls quiet after that. "I know he loves me. I love him, too. That doesn't mean I can't be upset with him." Oliwer turns his head to look at Ghena, warm sincerity in his face despite his claim to being upset. "Or his family." Granted, he's probably more upset with the fact that he's embarrassed at all, in this moment. "You haven't damaged our relationship." Just in case she's worried about that. "I just need some time to... gather my thoughts. But thank you." There is a softness in her smile. "Of course. I will leave you too it then." With that she's veering off to the blue who is swimming, and still sulking. Content to leave the lovebirds to work it out themselves. G'laer must be aware of the exchange for all that he seems, generally, to be efficiently packing up the picnic. Then he looks to the water and Teisyth approaches him dripping. He waits the time that Oliwer is gone letting her dry in the sun, only setting about her riding straps and attaching the now packed up date to them when he sees his weyrmate approaching again. Once it's squared away and ready to go, he turns to look at the healer, silent and appraising. "I'm sorry," says Oliwer evenly, a handful of moments after G'laer turns back toward him. Yes, he was (is?) upset with the greenrider and he's still the one apologizing. But that's all he says, gaze shifting away now that he's said it to look at Teisyth instead. "You have nothing to be sorry for." G'laer says it matter of factly, though he doesn't offer an apology himself. He offers out his hand to the healer, "Let me take you home." This is an offer, but a different kind. Oliwer clearly disagrees. But he doesn't say as much out loud. There's a glance toward G'laer's hand. He doesn't take it. Instead, "Perhaps I should go see if anyone could use my help in the infirmary for a while. You go on home, though?" And he'll be home later, is probably the implication. "Oli," G'laer looks... well, he's G'laer so he doesn't look it, but his tone sounds just the tiniest bit hurt. "Please." Persuasive, no? "G'laer," Oliwer returns, not really a warning because this is Oliwer. But there's some indication that he doesn't just want to go home with the greenrider. So it probably means something (like he's a push over) when he sighs and says, "Fine." G'laer doesn't budge at the not-quite-warning, predictably. "We need to talk," he says after the 'fine,' "And not here." Although chances are good that talking will not be first on the agenda once G'laer gets Oli back to his Den of Iniquity. He offers the healer his hand again, this time meaning to help him up into the straps. Usually, G'laer mounts first and offers his hand down, this time, for some reason, he doesn't seem to want Oliwer left on the ground, unsupervised, where he might get ideas about changing his mind. "There's nothing to talk about," says Oliwer even as he accepts the offer of assistance without question and waits for G'laer to mount after him. "Certainly nothing that needs to be talked about now if it wasn't important to talk about before." That's practically catty as the healer goes. The way G'laer wraps his arm around Oliwer's waist and pulls the man against him might just be for safety, but it's a rough movement that in of itself is rebuking, even were it not accompanied by a low, hard, "Oli." Other than the quick, perhaps surprised, inhalation of breath the greenrider's arm causes, Oliwer gives no response. But that means he's not saying anything else G'laer might not approve of, either, so maybe he's appropriately rebuked. The flight is familiar and brief and G'laer is quick to dismount. He offers up a hand to Oliwer first, saying to the healer, "You have until I unload to be ready," though he doesn't explain ready for what. So Oliwer will have to guess, or ... maybe stand there as he unloads the straps and removes them from the green. Then, if Oliwer hasn't stayed, G'laer will go in to face the figurative music. Oliwer does just stand there staring at G'laer for a few moments. He could probably ask what that's supposed to mean, but instead he turns to head into their weyr. If only there were a door to slam! And inside, the only thing he's doing to be ready for anything is changing out of his clothes into something less worn-to-the-lake. Which, well, might actually look like he has some idea what he should be getting ready for. G'laer enters, expression the usual lack of feeling. He crosses to Oliwer and steps behind him to place both hands on his hips and steer him toward the bed. "We're going to talk. And I am going to make love to you. You may pick the order in which we do those things." So kind of him to consider Oliwer's preference! "I don't know what we have to talk about," says Oliwer, not resisting the motion toward the bed, anyway, even if it means leaving his fresh shirt with the wardrobe. "And you can't solve everything with sex, G'laer." He sounds scolding. But possibly not to the point where he'd protest that much. "I'm not solving anything with sex. I am reminding you how ardently I love you and that this is the sex that matters. Even if you don't feel you need reminding." G'laer shoves Oliwer gently down onto the bed when they arrive at it before pulling off his shirt, having removed his boots before coming into the weyr proper. "What my sister said upset you." He states. Oliwer twists onto his back, or at least enough to look over his shoulder, once he's on the bed, looking at the greenrider with more affection than annoyance. Stupid love! "Of course it upset me. You certainly never told me how amazing sex is during a flight." It's not like his single experience with flight sex was all that fantastic, otherwise he might have assumed more accurately. "That's because sex isn't just sex to me, Oli. Even physically pleasing sex." Notice how he doesn't say 'amazing'? G'laer stands, opening the clasp on his belt and looking at his weyrmate. "For me, it's colored by everything else. So far, everything else is two teenage boys, one rough and the other homicidal, and one arguably more homicidal grown man who dislocated my shoulder." He pauses a beat for emphasis. "I'm still waiting for any of them to qualify as amazing. Instead, I keep getting fucked." He means figuratively, but it's not the only way it works. "I would choose our worst partnerings over a flight," the words are delivered earnestly. Sure, Oliwer watches G'laer unfastening his belt. He might be a generally good man, but he's still a man and his weyrmate is both hot and good at what he does with his clothes off. But the healer asks, despite all those encouraging words, "Would you tell me if you started enjoying them more than you have in the past?" G'laer's brow furrows. "I always talk to you about flights." Usually as he's being healered up. Rather than letting his pants drop, the greenrider climbs onto the bed next to his weyrmate with pants still on. "If that's the kind of detail you want to know, then yes. I'll tell you." He shifts to find Oliwer's trousers with his hands, meaning to effect their removal. "Are you certain you would want to know?" He asks seriously. It can't have escaped his notice that his weyrmate can be willfully ignorant at times. It's probably why they're still together. "No," Oliwer admits without hesitation. He probably doesn't want to know. "But I don't want to be taken off guard hearing it from someone else, either. And what if there's someone you enjoy enough to want to do... more?" That might be coming out wrong. At least he seems pretty okay with his own pants coming off. He'll even move around to make it easier. With all that helping, Oliwer won't get an answer to his question for hours. Because that's not a topic that meshes well with making love. Maybe all the activity is supposed to lend credence to the answer he finally makes once Oliwer is tucked comfortably against him, safely wrapped in a strong arm. "You know what we have is about so much more than sex, Oliwer." The greenrider shifts his head so he can kiss the older man's neck softly. "The sex I have during flights is only sex. And that's never satisfying beyond her needs. She doesn't even like flights after the fact. Or before. Only during. She likes Rosvelth and Reisoth, of course, but it's not because they flew her, it's because they're pleasant and kind to her and make her feel worthwhile. Like you do, with me. You make me a better person, Oli. You make me happy. No one in the world could change that other than you." Has he ever sounded so sincere? Probably not. He means every word. All the activity, at the very least, puts Oliwer into a very receptive sort of mood, tucked up against G'laer and relaxed in those so very familiar arms. It's his favorite place to be. "You always know exactly what to say," he returns in a quiet, wry voice. There's a hint of accusation in those words, even, but it seems more amused than serious. "I don't mean to seem jealous. Or insecure." At least he's aware? "I just don't know what I'd do without you." "No, I don't." G'laer contradicts, sighing against the healer's neck. "That's why I didn't try to talk about it." He presses his face against the skin there, so his admission is muffled, "I hate flights. So does she. We'd change it in a heartbeat," if only they could. "But this is why I was supposed to Impress bronze. So I could pick and choose when to chance fucking someone." It might be a serious moment, but that doesn't keep the sound of Teisyth's chuffing laughter as this old complaint is made; it's still hilarious to her. G'laer, on bronze. Hahahahahaha. "You always seem to say the right things to me, anyway." Maybe that just means Oliwer is too accepting of everything G'laer says to him. But he's a smart man. So it can't just be that, can it? "I'm sorry to say, but I think I prefer you having no choice." That might be one of those sorry, not sorry sorts of sorries. "I love you, Gal. So long as no one comes along to make me question whether you love me, too, I suppose I don't care who you have sex with." "Maybe I just know when to say nothing." G'laer sighs, something more in this sudden and growing melancholy that makes him hold Oliwer just that much closer. But as per that sentiment, he says nothing more, the strength of his arms providing the easy illusion of inner certainty. Isn't this how they usually leave things? Oliwer could probably be happy just leaving it at that and drifting off in his weyrmate's strong arms, but he shifts slightly to look over his shoulder, to try kissing the greenrider's face. "Are you okay?" After sex is a great time to talk! Perfect. G'laer is feeling all intimate and human and stuff. He'll probably hate himself in a minute for saying honestly, "Never and always," before kissing Oliwer in a quick 'we don't need to talk about it' kind of way. Oh, but they do need to talk about it. Oliwer, of course, doesn't turn away a kiss. But a few moments after it's broken, once he can draw his head back to look in his weyrmate's eyes with uncertain concern, he murmurs, "G'laer?" "Everything's fine." G'laer says it firmly, even if there's the smallest wrinkle in his brow. "Nothing to worry about." He leans to kiss Oliwer again. Will that put an end to it? This time Oliwer pulls away from his weyrmate's attempt to kiss him and his own brow is furrowing as he starts to lean up on one arm to look down at G'laer. He doesn't believe him, that much is clear. But he doesn't press. Oliwer only shifts further away from the greenrider, turning so his back is facing him as he settles back down against the bed. G'laer sighs heavily as the healer resettles, "Oli," but there aren't any words that follow it. The greenrider sits up and is soon enough at the edge of the bed and standing. Apparently he really doesn't always know what to say, case in point! It'll be hours before things seem normal again, but that's the way of it, with these two, when these things come up. Soon enough, it's treated as par for the course if not forgotten. Life goes on. They manage. They always do. |
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