Logs:The Thinker and the Lump
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| RL Date: 4 March, 2015 |
| Who: K'zin, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After Telavi's evening, she becomes a bed lump. When K'zin arrives after his more pleasant run-in, there's a brief, sleepy, and none too coherent discussion of the things that he saw. |
| Where: Artful Artifice Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 2, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Edyis/Mentions, Laine/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
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| The outer cavern's bright with glowlight; the workout room's dark. The dim third room has a Telavi-sized lump under the covers, off-center in his big bed, with a satellite lump that might be Biter not far off from her feet. Not even her hair is showing. Kazi is surely not in evidence or it wouldn't be so quiet. K'zin's arrival to the weyr is nothing special. Delivered by an elevator dragon as Rasavyth is already asleep and the bronzerider is disinclined these days to wake the bronze if he doesn't have to, K'zin's boots come off in the entry and it's quiet feet across to build the outer hearth up just enough to make the big cavern not frigid in the morning. He moves then to where the dim light shows the lump and lingers in the doorway a moment before moving to the hearth shared by the smaller rooms, to check on it before moving to the edge of his side of the big bed and reaching to tug off his shirt. Rustle. Rustle rustle. The blankets must be too heavy or else the satellite lump too far from the edge, or else the lump-maker lazy; after some prodding and poking it disappears, leaving the blankets to slowly sink down into the abandoned space. The larger lump is abandoned too; it surely doesn't have as keen senses as the littler one had been, or maybe it's sleeping, or just feeling uncharacteristically lumpish. Still, eventually there might be a, "Mmph." He doesn't intend to wake her, or shift her, or really do anything to earn that 'mmph' that rises up from the depths of the lump. He freezes when it comes and brows lift. Then there's motion again, peeling off socks and unlacing pants, standing so he can trade them from the threadbare but oh-so-comfortable sleep pants he's accustomed to before climbing into the bed. One might think that the experience of wanting to be held for those months of inexpressible pain felt through the close bond with his lifemate might have made him more inclined toward snuggling in general, but alas, it is not so. He has gotten accustomed to shifting so he can at least touch his bedmate, allowing for the option to be snuggled with more readily than once long ago, but K'zin is still not a cuddler. The lump returns to somnolence; maybe it was the brow action. It stays that way until the covers shift, until the mattress does. It's warm there, if not far beyond the lump, who has to adjust; even then, it's not to snuggle exactly, nor to give him a different sort of greeting, but rather turn enough so the curve of her spine is more or less along where he reclines even if only her feet actually touch. Low, muffled, "...Okay?" It's barely syllables at all; it might not even reference anything. Even her hair's all bound up; she might just go back to sleep. At least her feet are warm. There's silence a moment and then K'zin's low question, "At what age are teen girls allowed to start using their cleavage for leverage?" It sounds like he's wondering aloud. Imagine what must be the mental visage that prompts that question. There's an awkward twist, the elongated lump less lump-like and starting to sound more Telavi-like with her, "...What?" It misses being an exclamation by virtue of lingering sleep-- or mood-- but only just. K'zin flinches slightly; perhaps length of involvement has granted him super powers to know when something was almost an exclamation. Or maybe he's finally thinking through what he wondered aloud to the lump that was asleep and was perhaps, just perhaps not supposed to hear him. "Nothing," he decides is the safest answer, turning to lean to try to kiss the lump's head-shaped-bit. "Go back to sleep," he encourages soothingly. He probably doesn't mean 'so that he can go back to thinking about the cleavage of teenage girls,' but it's possible that one might think so. "Nothing... schmuthing," is a mumbly sort of murmur. Maybe he kissed her to sleep. Only, after a little while, "Pretend cleavage." It's a statement. Even, in some Tela-convoluted way, an answer. "No, I think it was real," K'zin answers clearly without thinking. "Er. I mean." But is there any way to undig that hole? At least he doesn't try. Just yet. "Not socks." There's a contemplative moment after which Tela, sleepy Tela, discovers a philosophical question and words to go along with it. "Does it count as real if only the top side is real and the underside is... being propped up? For leverage purposes?" "No, not substantial enough to be socks." K'zin relates his earlier observation, with a slight falter as he gets to 'enough' and realizes he's still got the shovel and the hole seems, somehow, to be getting deeper, even if sleepy Tela hasn't noticed, but at least he follows through with his sentence. Then, he sounds disturbed on behalf of men everywhere, "I'm not sure how I feel about that kind of false advertising." Even his baritone is uneasy, and he fidgets. "I mean, if it's just for leverage, well... that's one thing. But if you get a girl to the point of taking her top off and it's all a lie..." The horror. He flips onto his stomach so he can let his face bury itself in the pillow. "You did look," Telavi notices, only something of her tone suggests it might have been for science. And then, "It's horrible," Tela empathizes, because she's been there. "It's not like small is bad, but be real. Which doesn't mean a little uplift... well, anyway." She leans over, languidly, to rub his hair... without even trying to press his face deeper into that pillow. "What did she want you to do?" "Looking's allowed," is a little defensive, "and besides, I didn't look on purpose. It's a thing. All men do it. Well, all the ones that like breasts anyway." Now, K'zin seems to need to shift again so a hand can snake out to find her side and slide upward. Seeking to prove himself, maybe? Maybe it's just all that talking about breasts in general. His hand draws back in a comically shocked way as her words penetrate the boob-brain-haze, "You used to stuff it?" He sounds taken aback, perhaps even more horrified. It's only an afterthought in the wake of his surprise that has him answering, "She didn't want me to do anything. It was for the bartender, I was just... in line behind her. With Edyis." He purses his lips slightly. "Yes, yes," says Telavi distractedly, more interested in the rest of it; she doesn't move into his hand or away from it before she stops rubbing his hair to peer at him. "I'm not saying that," she says primly. "And the bartender... there's this great big slab of wood between them, not that kind of wood! the kind that's harder to hop over, so if she can buy her liquor..." K'zin squints at Tela, sleepy Tela. "Go back to sleep," he decides, withdrawing his ranging hands and leaning to kiss her temple. Clearly, sleepy Tela needs sleep more than she needs to ramble about bartenders and wood and boobs. Tela huffs out a breath, though it's soft enough to be more of a sigh; she blinks at him a couple times and then says, "Good night..." a little playfully, "dear." Then comes the flopping over, back to where she'd been, with not-cold feet nudging up once he's stopped shifting. It's like before, only she's not a lump-- not until later in the night, when she surfaces from a clammy, strangled dream, remembering what she'd tried so hard to forget. |
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Comments
Edyis (04:14, 22 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
This is indeed, an excellent question. <3
Laine (01:01, 23 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
Somewhere, Laine's ears are burning... Or maybe her boobs are burning.
K'zin (16:15, 23 March 2015 (EDT)) said...
K'zin is concerned; if the latter is the case, Laine, he hopes you ill go to the infirmary. Also, everyone knows Oliwer is the expert on breasts, so definitely ask for him.
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