Logs:Might. Almost. Never.
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 25 January, 2013 |
| Who: Brieli, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani (Brieli) and Iesaryth see N'rov and Vhaeryth a couple days after the flight. Things would have been better if their plan had worked. |
| Where: Vhaeryth's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 11, Turn 30 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'kon/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Taikrin/Mentions |
 |
| Dragons are, sometimes, better at arranging such things: yes, she and hers are welcome, and she can sense the truth of it. (Not that Vhaeryth's incapable of holding a grudge, as his rider knows all too well.) It may not be quite as comfortable as it had been, the last time the queen was here, but still the young bronze can crowd to his weyr to make room for Iesaryth, only afterwards moving further out onto the narrow ledge. There's room there for twinned sunning, if not for landing. And if the view of them under those clear, sunny skies is nearly as good as theirs of cliffs and dragons and more cliffs, what of it? When his rider moves out to the ledge too, he may be more conscious of it, or else the hand lifted to shade his eyes is merely against the sun. Talk, he saves until after he's beckoned her in. It's not something Iesaryth would ask, or perhaps not something her rider would allow her to ask, not first, not even if it's difficult for Aishani to wait out the days, and difficult for the queen to keep her oceans bordered - or at least, away from Vhaeryth. She's had her own little resentments; whatever the bronze has now can be left alone if he'll let her land, let her share his ledge to sit in the sun. Her rider has dismounted by the time his comes out, her hair freed, jacket undone. Shani watches the dragons a moment, expression unreadable, before she follows him in. Talk she'll save until after she's thrown her arms around his neck, kissed him like days have been weeks. And only a pair of days at that, but still! N'rov pulls Shani up against him, walking them both back to the hearth, where it's warm from more than just the two of them though that seems to be plenty, right now. And the kissing, that's nigh on inexhaustible, except where he's also patting her shoulders, her spine, her hips as though to check Is she all right, is she all right. For Vhaeryth's part, he must have volunteered what wasn't asked, must have known, one way or the other. He must have lost that one resentment over the ocean that wasn't her ocean, mostly, mostly just the shadow of it remaining now. But that's not her. And he's not incurious. What's hers? What, now, is her itch. As long as he's kissing her, as long as he's pulling her to him, Shani goes where N'rov goes. Somewhere on the way to the hearth, she shrugs off her jacket, which is certain to help with hands checking her over more than out, not that she really seems to be bothered by the difference. But when she comes up for air, between shorter, softer kisses as she runs fingers into his curls, "It's fine. Everything's all right." She's fine. Already regretful, "I don't know how long I should stay." Iesaryth will likely want to go home after not-too-long, but right now, she's content with Vhaeryth, more so for what's still between them, still all right. Sun bright on her waves, « She says I should fly while I can. » Funny how, though N'rov does still get his hair cut skull-short sometimes, for the most part he's let it grow a little (if not at all out) since she started flying about. "You should go back right this second," is what he tells Shani, only it's combined with the checking-out this time. "I mean it." Except that's not only not what his hands say, it's also not, really, what his voice says. In a different tone, "How are you surviving?" Vhaeryth's doing his own examining: how are those waves? Any more, or fewer, fish flitting about than usual? « Good, » meanwhile. « 'Bend the rod while it is still hot.' » Aishani does appreciate N'rov's longer hair, or at least her fingers seem to, twining through dark curls as she presses herself closer. She's appreciating his contrary hands too, if the breathy note to her tone is any indication. "Will you keep me here if I don't run? Tie me to the chair?" There's a wicked little grin for that, before, loosing a hand to play with his collar, "Or do you doubt my ability to go later?" The other question has dark eyes shade a touch darker, her nose wrinkle. "It's not good. But it could be worse. If..." She shakes her head; no. No more of that. As for Iesaryth's waves, they're clear and calm, the skies above blue and bright. There's always a lot of fish; they swim closer to the surface than usual, move faster. There's much to think about. But that never means she can't fly at the same time - with a spray of seafoam, « Where would you go? » "Indubitably," says N'rov into that grin, rolling with the syllables, though then of course he has to watch her play with his collar. "If," he starts, but her headshake stalls him. And what is he? Her boy on the side, not to talk about the serious things with, but only to forget them? Today, maybe exactly that. Today, he'll take it. Today, he'll see about giving her cause to wear a higher collar than his. And Vhaeryth? There's a sea, of sorts, of glass, clear yet reflective. Within its depths, ruddy-golden sand, dune after dune of the wilds that only men would bother calling Igen. And then Shani's watching N'rov watching her... and if he's not going to follow up on that right off, she's going to kiss him again and let herself get carried away enough to forget the serious things, forget she'll have to go soon, forget that he's doing some things that will likely cause her some little embarrassment later. Or maybe it's that she doesn't really care, in the moment and present in a way that seems purposeful, as if still trying to make up for what happened on the island; how weird that was. After, later, she'll tell him quietly, "If it had worked out, it might have been better. Not going to change it to say it." Iesaryth knows the place, but is fascinated, as always, but the images of them - the perceptions and differences in how they see, but still all go. And she would go, if they could now. Instead, she'll trade images for a time, places she'll fly before she's stuck at home, though the whole concept is a bit vague. "Only 'might'?" he murmurs back to her, drowsily, exploring with a fingertip down the line of pale, cool light that escapes through the narrow curtain-gap. It crosses, diagonally, her face. He follows it, so slowly, out from the shelter of her hair, across her forehead and then one of those brows she likes to raise, heading for the unbroken bridge of her nose. It could take Turns. "I almost feel sorry for the prig." She watches him with dark, calm eyes that flutter closed now and again as that fingertip traces its slow path; she rests her chin on her arm, her arm across his broad chest. Her gaze might find its own trail over his features, along the strong jaw she so likes touch. Lowly, "You'd be stuck with Reaches. That's the 'might'." The last brings a smirk, and one of those brows does raise. "Do you." She doesn't believe it. "I wouldn't get to tunnel out of it?" he only half-asks, eventually detouring around towards that near eyelid, in no hurry. The minute veins there, the ones he remembers more than really sees and even now doesn't quite touch, might as well be the cool, branching rivers they've flown over in their time. "'N'muir, N'muir, help me, help me.' I wonder if a Weyrleader ever has just... left. His queen might, I suppose, change his mind," and he could change course back to that other rider, but why bother? More than, anyway, a lazy, "Almost." "I wouldn't let you." Shani smiles as she keeps her eyes closed for that detour, lashes flickering light against his finger. "Tunnel out, or leave. Stuck with me, too. If only so there's more an hour here, a day there." A few hours now. The minutes, at least, seem to do them the favor of stretching on in the silence. Tipping her chin up to disrupt his path entirely and kiss his fingertip, "K'del basically left." A pause, resettling with a more serious look, "He hasn't said anything." "Stuck with me. Tied to the... table," he says, by way of a change of pace: can't just copy the chair, after all, though there might be a smile in his voice that's audible recollection. Though he also taps his finger to her lip, importunate lip that it is. "That was different, I think." Maybe he'd like it to be different. And after a moment, "Which one, about which, you've made me wonder." There's some smiling of her own, unguarded here with him, in the dim light. In a whisper, like it's a secret or something he doesn't know, "I love you. So much." That has her sliding up to settle in at his side, arm around his waist. "Maybe," she'll allow, vaguely - she won't force the issue - and then draws her brows together for a moment before, "Oh. Oh, H'kon hasn't... said what happened. I... I asked that he not mention you were there. I thought he would." There are only dragons out there, only their dragons, no less, but N'rov whispers his reply anyway. Of course, he would have to substitute a word this time, too, but it's only to add 'too' onto the end. Must she make him think about H'kon at such a time? Fine: "Didn't he? Hm. Good sign, I suppose, but then I'd like to see good signs. Unlike some people," and for this she gets an affectionate kiss. More seriously, "I didn't tell N'muir, either, when he dropped by. But then, he didn't ask. Just like we talked about." Not telling. Holding him tighter, pressing her lips to his cheek, Shani might take a few seconds before moving on to the subject of that guy, the one who pretty much fucked up everything being perfect (but for the whole being Weyrleader thing, but never mind that). "So far," she says darkly, for good signs - and then she's proving his point, and she might be annoyed, but there's N'rov's kiss to avoid that. "I don't look for bad things," she protests. "I told Azaylia that you were there, but not for how long. I... I just can't believe he'd rather people know than not. I don't think you live that sort of thing down. And good." A kiss for that. "It might not matter. With everything else." 'He'd rather people know': it's difficult what with the kissing and all, but N'rov works on focusing, suddenly. "Shani. Did you have to do something for him, not to tell? Do, or promise, or anything at all that you'd find a loophole not to tell me." He'll lever up onto an elbow if he has to, to better gauge her expression. "Was he... Tell me he wasn't awful to you, but only if he wasn't." It's not as difficult for Shani to focus, but it does take a moment for her to stop, and his seriousness has her taken aback. Shifting onto her side, resting her hand on his cheek reassuringly, "No. I didn't do anything, or promise anything. I just asked, and he... gave me the impression that he was going to say you were there. That he thought I'd done it purposefully." Which she did, but that's not the story. "He is awful, but he didn't do anything. He barely said anything." There's a flicker of frustration. "I still don't even know how it happened." Which she did, which clearly, clearly, makes N'rov smirk despite everything. Still, Shani has pain, and he's dumbfounded besides: "How could he not say anything? This is his whole life, people's whole lives changing. Unless it's to get your goat, I suppose," and he slides a smile back at her, though it has to be short-lived what with him still not getting it. "A man has to plan." "Don't do that when I talk about this somewhere else," Shani chides lightly and softly, flicking a finger at the tip of his nose - but she's smirking back, and even tells him, "I'd do it again." Anything. She's not quite dumbfounded at this point, but she clearly doesn't get it either. "I know! I tried, when it seemed like he might have some sort of... opinion. Something. It's pathetic. And it's not me." She's quick to assure him of that, letting her fingers drift gently down his face, his jawline. "He thinks we should go to the council, it seems like. Ask other people what to do with our Weyr." It's derisive, at odds with her touch. 'Do it again,' just deepens that smirk for a little while, lingering while they speculate. Until, "You're joking. He's joking." N'rov aims as though to catch her fingers with his teeth, but only for kisses, and even those not for long because he has to talk. "How lame." The way he says it, it could be literal. "Can't he think for himself? Or do you think it's that he doesn't think he has a chance, can't withstand the other one, the girl? Maybe his brown would know better." And that's not entirely joking, either. Holding still to take her chances with teeth or kisses, Shani leans in for one of her own after, but quick, so as not to get in the way of his talking. "You see why I say it would have been better? You'd never--" But that way lies madness, or just a lot of what-ifs that aren't productive, at the very least. "I don't know what his problem is. I told Azaylia we actually ought to just cut him out and leave it to Taikrin. What's the worst that can happen?" She's not joking. And what's the worst that can happen? Iolene. But she doesn't seem concerned. "'Never.'" N'rov's grinning, some, right before he angles to lean over her so he can look down, far hand braced so she won't have to take too much weight. "I don't know, you tell me. What's Taikrin like? How do you even spell her name? All I know is some talk about convicts or whatever, and the usual 'crazy woman' talk." That last gets a roll of his eyes, but then Szadath didn't catch Iesaryth, did he. Sliding onto her back, looking up at him with a mirror of that grin, "You come with your own problems." None that Shani minds all that much, none that stop her from sliding arms around him again, running slender hands up his back. "She's loyal and determined, but only predictable in being violent and unpredictable. But she will die for her people. I don't think she did whatever she got sent up for. And it's with an 'i' and a 'k' if that helps at all." There's a flicker of her gaze to the gap in the curtain, then back up to him and those grey eyes of his; now we're talking pain. "We should go back soon." N'rov does, doesn't he! His eyes close briefly as she talks, as she touches, but only briefly. "I'd like to think Weyrleaders don't have to die for their people anymore." The way he inflects it, it includes those of the weyrwomanly persuasion. And then... well, Taikrin could just as well be off at Southern, herself. "Soon," and if he bows his head to the reality of it, at least it's also for a kiss. |
Comments
Azaylia (Dragonshy) left a comment on Sat, 26 Jan 2013 21:05:59 GMT.
<
Aw. Awwww! Just... With all the chaos going on, a tiny slice of B'rov is a refreshing read. c:
Leave A Comment