Logs:Hangover
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| RL Date: 29 July, 2013 |
| Who: R'co, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte is hungover, R'co offers coddling. |
| Where: Greenhouse |
| When: Day 17, Month 5, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Weather: Fog begins to coalesce in the very early morning hours and lingers throughout the day, soft and still and clammy. |
| Mentions: Jo/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions |
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| Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and various flora. Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike. Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit. Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting materials tucked underneath. It's foggy - which is really kind of eerie if you're inside the greenhouse, because it's like the world outside of those glass walls no longer exists. As time wears by though, there are signs of it lifting, of the sun breaking through to disperse the heavy cover. Despite the inclement weather, though, the heat within the greenhouse is unaffected; it remains warm - warm enough for a certain brownrider to even have stripped down to just a pair of his shorts and boots as he knees down to work the little plot granted to him. He's repotting something, delicately working to transfer the plant from its old home to the next. When Tayte arrives via the stairs to the complex, she looks half-asleep, or maybe a little hung-over. Possibly both. Her hair is pulled back into a messy french curl, held in place by combs, and she generally looks disheveled. She carries a small tray in one hand that holds leaf clippers and a small empty jar with what looks to be granulated sweetner at the bottom. First glance across the place registers movement, people, but not exactly who. She sways to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, blinking half-lidded eyes and looking as though she might be trying to remember why she came in the first place. People turns around at the sound of oncoming footsteps, curiosity getting the better of him. When he sees it's Tayte, R'co grins, taking in the state of her with an ever-growing smile. "Oh dear, darling," he says purposely soft, though just loud enough for her to hear - he doesn't want to risk causing hurt if her head's as sore as he reckons it looks. "Rough night, sweetheart?" Up he gets, slipping off his gloves to drop them by where he was working before sauntering over to his fellow once-Istan's side to coo sympathetically at her. "Poor love." The fact that Tayte's blonde lashes flutter so slowly as she hears a voice is only further evidence of her sleepy state. As R'co draws nearer, surely he notices that her face is still a little puffy from sleep, and the scent he'd know as one of his own products is a little stale and mixed with the scents that come with a day of work and a night of sleep, or not-sleep. Clearly, she's not yet gone to the bathes today. When he draws near, she makes use of him as a leaning point, apparently being just a little too sleepy-tired-lazy to stand up straight on her own. She yaaaawns, her free hand rising to cover it delicately, before speaking. "Journeyman Sourgrapes is trying to make it so I'll have to quit Snowasis." Which she only just started 'tending at a few sevendays back. "And I may have gotten stupid drunk last night," A testament to her experience as a drinker that she's this upright at this hour of the morning, "And I think I brought someone home with me. Only I can't really remember the details." Stupid drunk, indeed. She tilts her chin toward the man then, "How are you?" R'co's probably a good leaning post, given that he's shorter than Tayte; he's certainly a sturdy one, wrapping his arm around her waist and looking up at her in amusement - and sympathy, yes, but mostly amusement, because isn't this the Tayte that he remembers from turns ago? "Tut tut, darling," is all he can say at first as he looks around, trying to spy the nearest bench to steer them to. "Fuck Sourgrapes," or whatever the man's name is. "You sit," he wiggles fingers at the bench, before stretching up a fraction to pop a soft kiss to her cheek, "and let me take care of you, hrm? Though tell me, darling, do you need a quick trip between this morning, or... or just hair of the canine?" "Markarin," Tayte says the name as she allows herself to be steered to the bench. When she says it, her face looks the way it would if she were tasting something awful. "Only the apprentices call him Sourgrapes." And she, too, apparently, when no one who'd be bothered by it was listening. "He's the WeyrVintner," said like the title it is. "Has had it in for me since I got here. I'm going to have to write the Hall, again." She turns to flop down on the bench, mindful of the tray, which she sets to the side. "Neither. It was a woman. Still too pregnancy-shy to tempt fate again." With a man, presumably. "And--" Yawn, covered again. "--Madilla set me up with the right herbs and things so that if I decided to tempt fate, I would have the odds in my favor. She tells me it's not infallible. Which is frightening all by itself. But, thanks. For offering." Since she interpreted it as an offer to take her between if it was needed. "Kinky. Do remember to invite me next time, won't you?" R'co teases with a wink, giving Tayte's knee a gentle pat as he gets up to go and fetch his flask, where it's sitting just beside his workspace. The repotting is forgotten for now, as tending to his friend is clearly more of a priority than a mint bush is. He does, however, steal a few leaves from it, which he crushes as he walks back to the Vintner, dropping them into his mug before pouring water over them. "Drink up, sweets. So, what's this awful Marka-whatshisname doing to make your life so miserable, darling? Shall I go punch him for you?" A perfectly-groomed hand is held up, manicured nails just visible as he curls fingers into a fist. It's hardly threatening - especially when paired with his plump little pout. "Actually, I vaguely remember being bored, so I'm thinking it wasn't kinky at all." Tayte answers, her sleepiness probably prohibiting her picking up on much of the tease, but the first word distracted her from the rest of the phrase in any case. "And I told myself I wasn't going to do this. Just... go home with whoever. But the one woman I'm sort of seeing-- liaising with? What's a good way to put that kind of thing?" She wonders but doesn't pause long, "She's out of the Weyr all the time, but like the one last night took a whole lot more booze to not be bored with. Maybe I'll just tell her she needs to come 'round more often. But I don't want to seem clingy. And then it gets complicated too because--" She starts but then stops, shaking her head. "It's all complicated. And here I thought 'Reaches would be simple by comparison." She seems to be waking up now, her eyes blinking a little more clearly. She takes the flask and sips from it. "Thanks." Then there's a sigh, "Punching Markarin would only make it worse, I think. I'm trying to get him to be reasonable, or get him transferred, but that's something that takes a lot more delicacy. "But thanks for offering. It's sweet." She takes another sip from the flask before asking again. "How are you?" "At least one of us is getting action." There's even more of a pout from the brownrider now, and R'co huffs as he sits beside Tayte, crossing arms briefly over his chest before settling his hands on the bench either side of him. "I'm quite well though, darling, save for a seemingly endless dry spell - for me and Dev. Honestly." He rolls his blue eyes, and drums his fingers off their shared seat. "It's quite awful to know that the only sex I'm getting is... well, shall we call it 'extracurricular'? Though Faranth, it's not even that. I feel like an absolute whore, darling, and I'm rather terrified that I think I like it as much as I despise it." He pouts for a moment down at the ground of the greenhouse, before tilting his head to look at the blonde beside him. "I've become awful, haven't I?" Tayte's fingers leave the flask briefly to reach up and ruffle the man's hair lightly, "I wouldn't say awful." Her fingers fall back to the flask and she takes another sip before offering it back over to its owner. "I'd say you're a man in search of something you're having a difficult time finding. There's no harm in looking, in whatever way you wish, as long as it makes you happy. Are you happy, Rocco?" She questions simply, her soft alto holding no judgment. "And I wouldn't envy me, if I were you. It's too complicated to be wholly pleasant. Wanting to be with someone and being too wherryshit scared is..." She makes a face. It's an exaggerated combination of unhappy, shamed, and disgusted. The face finishes her sentence for her. Hair-ruffling never settles well with R'co, and he frowns and pouts at Tayte as he smoothes his blonde locks back into place. Faranth forbid they be messy! "There's always something that can make you happier," he replies to her question, with a weak smile. "I do know exactly what you mean though, darling." One slender finger chucks her gently under her chin, and the brownrider sighs softly. "When I'm getting paid, I'm not getting this," he taps over his heart, "involved. I'm still terrified, Tayte-love, because it hurts too badly." He huffs out a breath then stands up, leaning back down to kiss her forehead warmly. "How about you sit there, sweetheart, and I'll finish repotting that poor mint bush that I've abandoned, and then we go find you something worthy of a hangover cure?" Running his hand with platonic affection over her messy hair, R'co winks down at Tayte and, whether she's going to accept his offer or not, he returns back to the job he abandoned, crouching back down and slipping gloves back on to properly tend to the poor little mint. |
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