Logs:Moriyah's Turnover Surprise
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| RL Date: 15 October, 2014 |
| Who: Moriyah, X'vae, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: X'vae's past pays a visit with news. She also happens to be one of Z'riah's favorite people~ |
| Where: Bowl and Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 28, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: I'kris/Mentions, Iolene/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Angst. Language. Moriyah by Telavi - many thanks! |
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| To say that X'vae's costume for the masquerade is subtle is an understatement. Most wouldn't even consider it a costume save for the fact that he's wearing a plain white half-mask with no markings of any kind to mar the shaped and painted leather. The only other telltale is that he's swapped his bluerider's knot for that of a brownrider from Monaco. Otherwise, his Monocoan styled leathers, though bulked by the padding he's added, are worn like it's any other day. At least he didn't go so far as to rub soot through his hair to darken it. The only other bit of costuming he wears is a smile, a big one. He's got skate blades hooked over two fingers as he moves away from where Izazeth landed in the bowl to let him off, approaching the familiar-- and yet not-- form dismounting from Yizibeth. The familiar-- and yet not-- form dismounting from Yizibeth is having some difficulties with his costume. It's not everyday that Z'riah wears a dress, after all, so he's not really used to having to deal with skirts and getting off of a dragon. Getting on was even harder, but Yizibeth has been a trooper, helping him the best that she can manage. He doesn't wear any of his usual leathers, instead favoring a cloak that coordinates with his mostly white dress, a gauzy red belt tied around his waist, and displays a goldrider's knot on his shoulder. He has a mask that's similar to X'vae's except for the fabric that comes off of the back that's probably supposed to suggest he's blonde of hair rather than his usual dark. Does it really matter who he's pretending to be, though? The man is wearing a dress. "You realize," X'vae says, though his tone can't hide the laughter being restrained in it, "That I'm not aiming to get us punched or thrown out. I was going for subtle. So you'd better not go about wagging your tongue about just who we're supposed to be." It's an earnest enough caution, even if X'vae's expansive grin looks like it might just hurt his face. Z'riah lifts a hand toward his chest with an exaggerated limpness in his wrist, because this is apparently what women look like, and he acts properly scandalized. "Why I never. What if someone asks me? What am I supposed to say then? It'd be rude not to tell them." He's probably just being an asshole, though. It's not like he wants anyone messing up his dress by getting too physical in the entirely wrong ways. "Don't make me tear the dress off of you. It's awfully cold out." X'vae manages this with a straight face. Well, that gets the masquerading goldrider to shut his trap, even if that's more than likely precisely what he'd like X'vae to do. "Don't go getting my hopes up, handsome. It's not polite to tease a lady." Which is exactly what Z'riah is right now. X'vae rolls his eyes, because clearly Z'riah's just joking. "My lady," the bluerider chivalrously offers his arm to the greenrider. "Wouldn't do to leave you without a proper escort. You never know what scalawags or roustabouts might try to find their way under your skirts." "That's better. Much better. Thank you, brownrider," says lady Z'riah, accepting the arm and the escort that comes with it. "If it's all the same to you, though, I'm hoping someone is willing to find their way under my skirts by the end of the night. I'm not sure what the point of wearing a dress is otherwise." The bluerider barely resists rolling his eyes. "Whatever floats your boat, Zif." X'vae has never been one to judge. He keeps his stride manageable for the lady and her skirts, their progress toward the lakeshore slow. "How are you going to skate in those?" He wonders after some steps, dubious, though won't there be plenty of women dressed similarly who'll manage gracefully? Perhaps it's just Z'riah's grace that he doubts. One such is shivering prettily despite the luxurious furs that adorn cuffs and collar of her stylish coat; roses warm her cheeks in the cold, and have her kohl-lined lashes always been this long? She has her own escort, a deferential girl about her own age who's just sufficiently less pretty than she; it's the latter that calls out, "Look, there they are! Xev, Zif, over here!" --which means that all Moriyah has to do is smile as she turns their way, a smile that's all for X'vae as though he were the sun that lights her life... even if he's more likely the hot water bottle that warms her feet. "I don't know yet," Z'riah answers honestly enough. And he'd probably continue with something more typical of himself but their names being called has the greenrider turning his head in the direction of the voice doing the calling. "Fuck." Okay, that's pretty typical. "You didn't invite her, did you?" He makes it sound like he wouldn't be even a little bit surprised and he's already disgusted by the idea before X'vae has any chance to answer. "No," might surprise Z'riah, but his disgust can probably stay, since X'vae is beaming toward the Monaco grouping and Moriyah in particular, of course. Already, he's reaching up to push his mask up onto his head and starting to step in their direction. Already, he has his hopes up and it's plainly written on his face. Hers is delighted despite the low company that surrounds them-- Z'riah might as well not even exist, at least unless she needs something to laugh at-- and Moriyah further welcomes his approach by exclaiming, "It's so good to see you!" Her smile grows intimate, "...Xev." Z'riah doesn't let X'vae slip away with complete ease. His grip on the arm he was being escorted with tightens to rein in his friend's enthusiasm for the few moments it will take for him to hiss, "What are you doing, asshole. You're an idiot if you listen to anything she says. She's gonna fuck up our whole night." "What? Why?" X'vae's entrancement-- enchantment? --in the moment is broken by Z'riah's restraining grip. It's enough to slow and stop his forward progress as he looks with confusion between the lady on his arm and the lady seeking his attention. Obviously the latter is here to reunite with him and give him the good news that she's coming to transfer after all! Moriyah certainly has news for him, as it happens, but for now... with a hand on her own escort's arm and a soft murmur for her too, she navigates the slippery surface between them. Obediently, though possibly also genuinely happily, the girl-- what's her name-- makes to greet Z'riah with her version of charm; the idea is that that would leave Moriyah and X'vae to reunite in peace rather than pieces. Moriyah even lifts a hand to brush the bluerider's jacket where it's padded-- just look at him! "So hot." The crossdressing greenrider has basically no interest in what's her name's charm right now, but he might be willing enough to take advantage of it once he's given up on his moronic friend. "Because it's her." He even looks at Moriyah as he says it, shameless hate. "You're going to regret anything that has to do with her." Z'riah is quite confident of that. But he's not dumb enough to think he can talk any sense into X'vae, especially not once she's got her hands on the bluerider, so he just growls and turns away, cursing under his breath. To X'vae's credit, he does furrow his brow in earnest consideration of Z'riah's not-terribly-eloquent explanation. He even looks up, startled for a moment out of his warm smile down at Riyah by the male greenrider's growl. But, alas, he's right. Once the brunette has her hand brushing across his chest, he's lost. "Adapt and survive," he answers her pair of words with a grin. "I can do it to yours, too, if you like." For when she moves here, since that's obviously what's happening. "You look beautiful," he offers quite genuinely, before reaching for a hand, meaning to brush a kiss to the back of fingers if she'll have it. It's a courtly gesture, so Moriyah-- who's ignoring Z'riah with all the aplomb of someone overstepping a particularly harmless mud puddle, not to mention the forethought of a woman on a mission-- charmingly accepts it as her due; she also accepts X'vae's arm, holding it close for warmth even as she teases, "Is that really what you want to do to me? And should I let you, when you seem to feel I need... padding?" Her light soprano is arch, her eyes sparkling. X'vae's blush is there beyond the pink encouraged by the chill, but he laughs warmly in spite of it. "You know I don't think you need any improvement." She's obviously perfect just as she is! "Let me show you the greenhouse. It's as warm as Monaco on a summer day," well, no, but it's warmer than here, even if it does smell funny. As they walk, he talks, telling her brightly of all the new and exciting things they've discovered since arriving in 'Reaches, animated in his telling, one hand moving in the air in front of them to illustrate while the other, the one she'd claimed, seeks to shift and wrap around her shoulders, the better to help keep her warm. It's not until they've reached the greenhouse and are into its heat and stopping near a bench that he turns to face her and take both hands in hers. "You have come to tell me you'll stay, haven't you?" He's too hopeful, but not confident. Moriyah certainly seems engrossed in what he's telling her, though she spares a little-- a little smug?-- smile for passersby who see her with her blushing bri... arm candy. She stays close, and then it's a soft-focus picture-perfect moment with the leaf-filtered glowlight shining down on her face turned up to his, on the furs that now swathe her shoulders. Her lashes sweep down, then up, and she fixes X'vae with a smile made the more entrancing for its soft splendor, for her complete conviction that this is amazing. "Even better," she says, her mouth curving in a cupid's bow smile. "I wish we'd known before, of course, that I'm carrying... your child, Xev. You're my child's father." Better than coming to stay! X'vae's look is both curious and even more hopeful (if that's possible). Then she says those words and-- he stares at her. He has to sit down, yes he does! Fortunately, there's that bench right there and his fingers press together over his nose and mouth as he draws in a breath. Just give him a minute. That's a lot to take in, and he hasn't even had anything to drink tonight. "You're--" He finally says, looking up at her and then reaching out a hand to try to pull her into his lap. "I'm-- I'm going to be a father?" He sounds bewildered. Surely, with his healer training, he knows how this works. He must. "Yes!" Moriyah goes with him, cupping his head between her hands when she does retake his lap. "So exciting! I'm sure she'll, he'll? be the most darling ever. Not that we need to think of names, yet, though sometimes I just can't help myself." "Names," X'vae repeats in a tone that tells he's still reeling a little from the announcement. Another moment later he's stealing his hand back from her so he can enfold her in his arms and kiss her soundly. "A father." He says, beaming at her, his tone one that still marvels at the idea. "We'll-- I'm sure Z'riah will understand, of course. We'll get a different weyr," he's planning, this is his planning voice, "Or maybe ask Z'riah to get a different one? There are all the rooms in the one we have now, oh, but when he-- she-- starts toddling," he frowns, considering the problem. He hasn't considered that Moriyah might not be moving here and in with him yet. Why would he? Somehow-- maybe it has to do with how, despite all the other complications, Moriyah's moved by X'vae's kiss-- the woman doesn't do more than momentarily pout at the mention of Z'riah's name. On the other hand, maybe it has to do with how, that far at least, it's in her favor! But, "Xev," she interrupts his mulling. Doesn't he get it? "I can't come here. Not now." Xev, for his part, looks genuinely shocked by her words. "What?" Then with brows leaping down into a dive, "Riyah, it's-- you have to now. Any child of mine--" He's trying to find the right way to say it. "It will grow up in his shadow. In her shadow. There won't be a way to avoid being part of the legacy of it all. But if it-- he?" Perhaps worse, judging from the way his expression darkens is the possibility, "She? If the child is born here, they stand a chance." He pleads with her silently as much as in voice. Moriyah's cheeks are more scarlet, now, than the kissed-off rose of her once-painted lips. "You talk about shadows, but Xev... don't you see?" Doesn't he understand? "Here there isn't even light. Come home to me, to us. You wouldn't have me move to another continent, would you? Where I have no family, no friends but you, where it's dark and cold all the time, where the weyrs aren't even on the ground so I'd be trapped in a cave?" "You'd have me," X'vae argues, pleading. His hand moves to settle on her middle. "You'd have us, Riyah. Isn't that enough?" "You'd have us, Xev," Moriyah exclaims. "You can always between. You can always go where you want. I can't! What's here for me except for you? What am I going to do when I'm waddling and then later when I can't even get up on Arrajynth anymore? I've seen those women! And you're off flying, Xev?" She slips her hand over his hand, those big brown eyes not just appealing but demanding that her lover understand. "I'm not going to abandon you," only, he is. Or rather, already did. "You'll make friends here. I am." A lie. So far. "Z'riah is." Equally so, though perhaps if one squinted at the definition of friendship... "I'll help. I won't leave you helpless here." Here is the key word, because X'vae isn't coming back to Monaco. "You know I can't go back, Riyah. You know." Can't he? Perhaps he simply won't. "You will, again, when you see me waddle," Moriyah says darkly. Waddle, and worse. "Of course you're making friends, everyone likes you," kind of. Z'riah barely gets an eyeroll, he's that far beneath her. "I want my friends and family at home," she tells X'vae. "My people. Nobody wants to have to make friends when they feel like throwing up. Nobody wants to make friends with someone who's throwing up. But," here her voice breaks right on cue, "if we aren't important to you..." She's already turning her gaze from his, turning away from him, turning to take his hand right off her tummy and presumably walk away. "Moriyah!" X'vae looks and sounds pained, wretched even, when he calls after her. But she knows that tone, to be sure, his resigned tone. The one that means she hasn't gained any of the ground that she'd hoped. He's staying here. He's just going to feel worse about it. He'd better. After the trouble she's gone to... Moriyah spares him a glance over her shoulder, just so he can see how distraught she looks, her eyes glistening as though with unshed tears; she gives a little gulp like she's swallowing down a sob, turns away and hurries. Who knew he could feel worse still? He bends at the middle after meeting that last look with his tortured face, and folds over his own knees, burying his face in his hands. Soon, though, he'll have to move, because Izazeth comes and the greenhouse is no place for dragons. |
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