Logs:Exhaustion, Anger and Apologies
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| RL Date: 11 November, 2015 |
| Who: Dahlia, Ka'ge, Taeliyth, Zymadiath |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Dahlia is exhausted. Ka'ge invites himself by. There's assumptions, anger and apologies. |
| Where: Dee's Touch of Pink Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 4, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: R'oan/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sex and feelz. Back-dated. |
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| The days have been exhausting. The preparations the Weyr makes draws on Dee's dwindling reserve of energy to ensure everything is moving smoothly. Organizing the two barracks into additional infirmary space has kept the goldrider late again tonight and her approach to her weyr is slow. There are some stumbles as Dee makes her way in, pausing to speak softly with Taeliyth, before moving past the curtain into the inner weyr, already shedding her clothes as she comes, her path obviously leading her toward the small bathing chamber. Brown wings flutter, suddenly present from Between in the midst of Dee's bathing chamber almost right in front of her. The little brown ever-scrawny firelizard makes no effort to be quiet, not this time, chittering softly. Eyes are a'whirl in green-blues, shifted from hungrier tones, as Dee is spotted from above. But instead of staying a little while like he normally does, making his presence a sad-substitute for the one bonded to him, Chiv vanishes Between again before even bothering to perch somewhere, before taking any further survey of the room. It's not unfamiliar, but it has been less and less present about the Weyr- That Darkness. That night that watches from the edge of the mind, the ledges of the Weyr itself. It's never lack of boldness that brings those figments that eb and flow, crafting and uncrafting the potential-nightmares that lay within. But it comes about the same time as Chiv's abrupt presence and dismissal that the gritty, low confident mindvoice of the bronze reaches towards the young queen, « He comes. » Is warning alone, likely granted for the sake of the fiasco of not-asking some long time ago. (To Taeliyth from Zymadiath) And sure enough, Ka'ge is steps behind that comment, gloved hands stuffed in the pockets of an almost-black flight jacket that's much better than the one he'd adopted during weyrlinghood. One hand slips out to tug his hood farther down over his face as he pauses a step only for a brief moment to add a short bow to the gold. A straight face and less-haunched stance than he typically carries, he slows again once he's reached the curtain, parting it and waiting just past the fabric as it falls against his back. The warning grants just enough time for Dahlia to snag a towel from inside the bathing chamber and pull it around herself, still fussing with the tuck of it when Ka'ge comes through the curtain. Taeliyth's mind is tired, sharing Dee's exhaustion, probably even lending her as much strength as she might for the human half of the pairing to fulfill her duties. Taeliyth isn't without her own, however, speaking with dragons and soothing those that worry. Soothing is not Taeliyth's strong suit and that makes it that much more tiring when she tries hard enough to be moderately successful. Dee's eyes cast across the still dark room to the figure in front of the curtain. "Hi," is greeted before she leans around the doorway to the baths and uncovers at least the glow there, to illuminate her from behind. The bronze who'd offered warning requires no further mental strain. The utter calmness of the night that lingers on the intimidating from the depths of the blackness that makes up his shared mind is simply present, simply there. Ka'ge is perhaps all too similar as he stands in that spot inside the curtain for some time, watching her motions towards the glows as much as watching Dee herself. There's probably a longer pause as she covers herself in his presence, but his expression once the light falls on it gives away nothing of his feelings on the matter. "How are you feeling?" Is a strange phrase to come from him surely, and his tone as flat as his expression doesn't match what should be a thoughtful statement. « Are you being careful? » Taeliyth has to ask, quietly, the tiredness making the branches and leaves of her inner wood droop. « Have you volunteered to render assistance to Boll and the Healers? » Are they in danger of being infected? (To Zymadiath from Taeliyth) "Tired," Dee answers honestly. There's an awkward moment where she looks across the space. "Dirty," she adds. "Join me?" It all sounds so simple. She doesn't wait for an answer before turning, dropping the towel and moving toward the small pool. The shifting black figments stretch and condense over and over, fading and recreating as he's addressed, and ever after, « Careful? » It's asked as if the word itself is foreign, and followed by, « He does not wish to upset her. I do not wish to concern you. » Her question, however, is answered with an unsurprised and excuseless « No. » There's the sensation of the bronze circling in the dark sky above, a shadow amidst shadows but as if he's where he always has been. (To Taeliyth from Zymadiath) Ka'ge studies Dee for another span of time before he shifts to cross to her, slowly and deliberately at her request. "I'm uninvited." He reminds quietly, "Do you have other scheduled visitors? I can.. come back later." The hesitation is oddly placed, but softened maybe by the attempt of a crooked, faint grin. But he unlike his dragon does seem to be acting more carefully than not. To Zymadiath, Taeliyth dismisses his sensitivity with a shiver of trees, as though the roots themselves were digging further into the very bedrock of the Weyr. « It is my place to be concerned when there's a good reason to be, » which is to say: « Stop being ridiculous and tell me what I should know. » She doesn't have time or energy to waste diciphering secret messages he doesn't want her to know anyway. There's an impatient snort from her wallow. Dee leans against the edge of the pool, one hand swirling the water while the other pours bath salts into it, the air smelling vaguely of lavender. She's probably grateful she can keep her back to him as she makes preparations for the bath. "If it was a problem, I wouldn't have extended the invitation." After the arrival uninvited. It's quieter when she says, "Nothing that has been happening lately has been planned." The word 'planned' carries a slightly different meaning than 'scheduled'. The night seems unaffected by the shivering of trees, though the darkness recedes just a touch at the questioning such that only the eyeless sockets of his figments are still watching. « There is enough to concern you indeed than what it is that we know. But it is nothing more than what you have been told, I believe. We have watched the spread, have listened to the confused reports of healers. We have no good news. » (To Taeliyth from Zymadiath) Ka'ge sheds his clothing while standing at the edge of the bathing pools, setting them in relatively neat piles off to the side. His movements aren't excited, not flushed with anticipation nor hurried by the loss of time that's passed between the last time he's been able to be with her. But the way he watches her is no different. Before he steps into the water, he leans towards her to play his fingers through the back of her hair and kiss the top of her head. "Aye, but it's been quite.. regular. And I will leave you to it if you request. There is enough going on." With the latter, his voice lowers, quieter. "But I needed to see you." To Zymadiath, Taeliyth doesn't sounds pleased by this. « If there is something, you will tell me, do you understand? » She's not playing even a little bit right now. « She needs him to stay safe. » It's probably surprise, just because Ka'ge moves with such natural stealth, that Dee flinches when he first touches her, leaning hard against the edge of the pool. Oops. It's hurriedly that she's turning around, flushed and embarrassed, though who can say specifically why - there are so many reasons it could be. She reaches for him, lest he be offended enough by the flinch to try to move away. "No, I'm-- I don't--" To Taeliyth, Zymadiath offers the faint sensation of a tilt of his head, the figments doing the same in turn before they've dissolved into some other shadowy something, « I will offer what can be shared. » He makes his hedging in and of itself transparent, but it's nothing he's sure she didn't already garner. The rest, he pulls from his rider, « It is sharing much that we still leave. » That said to perhaps test her response to such, but offers what he- or perhaps Ka'ge himself- wills, « Information is slim. Much is whispered behind closed doors. Bollian family progressively ill. Their likelihood of survival is rumored to be worsening. » Ka'ge feels the flinch beneath his touch, and both the kiss and his hand stills where they are. They're withdrawn after that surprise, as the young man straightens with a slightly less determined look, more disappointed. Those blue-green eyes of his, so expressive when allowed to be, study her stiffness for only a second until he's turned to step into the bath. There's a sigh with that movement, dirt-covered bronzerider sinking into the water with gaze averted to the water. As she starts to speak again, and reach for him, it's not that he would move away, but he does offer a continuation of that faint grin of before, a deflated one. "Don't." Said almost-gently, "It's alright. We can just talk if you wish. I haven't been paying as much attention to you." On so many levels. "Besides wearing yourself thin for the Weyr, what has changed?" « Many still leave, » Taeliyth dismisses again, « but I'm not stupid. » There aren't many that leave like them. She's not excited about it, but she's aware that information has to come from seomwhere, so some must take the risks to get it. The rest is taken in, digested, with a sense of familiarity, that even if she didn't know now, she might've been told that before, at an earlier stage in the illnesses. (To Zymadiath from Taeliyth) Rather than try to grasp when he's moving into the bath, Dee makes move to follow, climbing in behind him and then looking at him a moment before she makes move to settle in his lap. She might be forcing herself to do so, but her arms reach to curl around his neck once she's there. That 'don't' of his doesn't seem to have done much good. "We've both been busy," she murmurs. It's no one's fault. Not really. Quieter still is the confession, "R'oan-- wants to be with me, I think." 'Be with me' must mean more than just in passing. « That is all we have of relevance besides assumptions and rumors that cause more panic than insight. » Speaks the rough, harsh mindvoice of the night, « I wish not to share that which would not be of benefit. » The bronze adds, perhaps enticed by the dismissiveness of the gold. The night, amidst this, has grown darker and darker still, as if the sharing requires slipping deeper into that which is Zymadiath. (To Taeliyth from Zymadiath) Ka'ge, maleable to her efforts, moves his arms until she's settled and then encircles them 'round her lower back. His face is relatively kind, though hardened beyond his normal. His blue-green eyes look into her own, looking for answers or feelings or both. One hand unhooks to brush back her hair, tucking it behind one of her ears as she speaks. He doesn't seem quite hurt by the lack of listening to him that she does. The brownrider's name brings about a heavy sigh from the young man, a slight gritting of his teeth that's quickly relaxed. "I've assumed." He says shortly, but almost whispered, "Given frequency." There's a heavier pause before he gives her the obvious follow-up, "And what do you want?" To Zymadiath, Taeliyth can't help rolling her eyes, mentally; physically, they're closed and stay so. « If you think I'm the sort of fainting flower that would panic when the news is already beyond the worst I've ever gotten, you need to adjust your opinion, » because if that's what it is, it's idiotic. She doesn't approve or appreciate idiocy. Still dismissive, yep. What he'll find in her hazel eyes and the way she looks to him and away is complicated feelings. Beyond the omnipresent exhaustion, there's confusion, guilt, indecision, worry, and concern. Then there's nothing to be seen because Dee is burying her face against Ka'ge's neck, breathing in the scent of him for some silent moments before pressing a kiss to his throat and straightening her head again. "I don't know. I feel things. Confusing things. For him. For you. And things that have nothing to do with either of you. And then frustrated because I wish I had better, clearer answers. I wish I had time and energy to even think about any of it at the end of the day. Everything between us-- he and I, you and I--" all those 'us'es, "is impulse and happenstance and I just feel like if the world would slow down, I could thing straight. But how am I supposed to think straight about silly things like loving people when I'm holding my breath waiting for people to die or get well, then then worrying for if my people will sicken, if that will happen here. Even if no one dies, it sounds horrible from the reports." She doesn't need to say she has nightmares. To Taeliyth, Zymadiath projects « :quiets following her assumptive answers of his choices, the darkness collected into that distant space, eyeless sockets vanishing as if wrapped away perhaps in a cloak of more black. The edges still writhe, still dance unphased by anything and everything. » Ka'ge smells less like beach and faint traces of iron now that he's at least submerged himself almost all the way once. But it still clings to him- that evidence of places beyond the Weyr's walls. He closes his eyes when given this attention, the tense knotted ropes of his muscles relaxing- slightly. Perhaps they would more-so if the conversation wasn't such a rough one. "As much as I would like to come back to you, here." He starts, his words slow as if picking them precariously, "Things have changed. If R'oan can.." There's a stiffness that reclaims him, a tightening of his chest and jaw once more, "Serve you better." Clearly, a difficult thing to say, "I can be scarce. I'm busier than I anticipated after graduation. And you have priorities which are superior to this- though, I don't know about you, but it helps me." The last is a weak attempt at inappropriate humor as his fingers gently massage the base of her neck. To Zymadiath, Taeliyth can't even. She ignores the shadows, ignores the Weyr, however briefly, she just shuts down, the thickets of her wood growing so thick as to be wholly impassable, even to the shadows. Ka'ge's explanation earns Dee's innocent confusion, communicated with wide eyes and fluttered lashes. "I do have priorities that are 'superior to this,'" Dee starts, slowly. "But duties don't change how I feel. I just-- I don't have time to figure out how that is, exactly, now. I might not for months. Maybe ever. My stupid knot comes with so much," not that she's complaining, just articulating. She gives Ka'ge and apologetic look. "I'm sorry I'm not more the girl you need, Kael. We probably never should've begun anything to begin with. I mean, after the hatching, it was always going to be complicated. And it's never going to be enough. At least not for turns yet. Not til I figure out what I'm doing, not til I win the confidence of the Weyr." It's a monumental undertaking, of that there can be little doubt. "And yet I've told you time and time again that I would wait. I'm in no rush." But Ka'ge says this with a fluctuating stability, disappointment more obvious as the massage becomes weaker until he relents, letting his hands fall back under the water. "You have a lifetime, Dee. You don't need everyone to love you by tomorrow or next turn. It's going to suck." He shrugs slightly, sloshing the water before leaning back a little bit with her, "I don't envy you your knot. Never would. Does it make sense to wait twenty turns when the Weyr is happy and content under your orders before you can allow yourself anything? Fuck knows what's going to happen. We might not even be here in a month if this is as bad as it could be." As he shifts, so does she. It's gradual, but Dee is withdrawing. She makes to claim her own small space in the snug pool. "And you've told me now that maybe you don't really have time for this. You've practically told me to be with R'oan, and made a bid for your continued small stake on my time. On my heart, maybe." She bites her lower lip, looking at him. She might be vexed, only it lacks the fire that it would have if she weren't just so damned tired. Ka'ge's look of confusion is made in passing, "I asked what you wanted, that's all." He notes carefully in an attempt to make sense of that list of conclusions. "I offered to get lost if it's R'oan you want. Offered to wait if time is what you need. You have all these excuses why it doesn't work. It has nothing to do with what I want." Most of the words are said in very intimate volume, but steadied tones. And as she begins to withdraw, he wouldn't stop her, if only giving a small squeeze of 'please don't' with his hold across her lower back. But it's easily parted if she continues to do so. "Offering to get lost is the same thing as giving up on me. On this. Whatever this is." Dee tells him, paused in her motion of moving away, but not returning. "Whatever this is." Ka'ge's pain with that is clearer than he's ever let it be. Quiet disappointment edges towards anger as lines take over a furrowed brow and narrow those eyes of his. A flustered breath escapes him, "And you haven't?" Given up, he implies. "Blame me if you want." He's moving with that to stand, to leave the pool already even though he's barely soaken, "Whatever this is, this thing that you were too damn afraid to name because it meant commitment that you couldn't give." He's already reaching for a towel, too, tones mid-growl, almost muttered, "Told you it would be safer for me to stay away from you a long time ago. Love does stupid things. Guess it's time to grow up." "I haven't, I'm just-- I don't even know, Kael. I'm not who you need me to be." Dee is quickly out of the bath behind him crouching to grab her own back up and wrap it around her. "I'm too sharding tired to even have this conversation," explodes from her as she stalks from the room, still dripping. "You say that as if you know what I need." Ka'ge growls, dragging clothing over himself despite still-damp skin. The towel did little in the brief period he alotted to use it. "You're the only one of us who doesn't know, Dee. Enjoy your brownrider. Maybe he can help you figure it out." There's words beyond that, likely of more flavorful, cursing value, but not loud enough to be heard as he ducks his head beneath his hood, all but his nose and mouth covered. His nearly silent steps make for 'stomping out' far less dramatic, but he's quickly moving to and out through the curtain. "I'm sorry!" Dee shouts it, whirling back at the doorway to the bath, putting herself between Ka'ge and his desired exit. Her hands brace on either side of the doorway as she glares at the bronzerider. "I am so damned sorry that I didn't Impress a dragon who gets to get slotted into a wing where my time is my own and where I can spend time thinking about how I feel about people. I'm sorry that I'm eighteen and don't know what I want from life or love or anything. I'm sorry, okay?!" She sounds more angry than sorry, really. "Excuses." Ka'ge states not as loudly, be equally harsh as she impedes his exit, "You didn't know as a sharding candidate either. You're so fucking set on telling me you're not what I need, that you're a bad decision on my part." He doesn't stop until he's within a couple inches of her, enough that she can see the ugly angry expression beneath the lip of his hood. His volume drops, but the lack-of-kindness does not, "Suddenly sweet little Dee is high and mighty Dahlia who has the world on her shoulders, and none of the rest of us have anything to worry about but who to have sex with next." If Dahlia were a slapper, surely, the attempt would be made now. "No!" she overrides his last words with denial. "No, Dahlia just has to get the Weyr ready for disaster. That's all," you ass (she doesn't say, but the tone...) "And maybe Dee or Dahlia or whoever the fuck I am would have some idea what you have to worry about if you would ever fucking well tell me." And that's when the wind goes out of her. Instead of shouting, she's seeking to wrap her arms around him, seeking his lips with hers, perhaps just to preempt any more wounding words from either of them. Ka'ge's red-faced in his anger, scars of his visible skin more prominent, his eyes glinted with a dangerous sort of feel that lingers on the edge of explosion. Every muscle on him is coiled to spring, more likely to punch a wall than to go take a jog. But all that energy is translated into a sudden grab for her, an immediate answer of the start she'd given. He presses his lips to hers, the anger switched to pressing her backwards to put her back against the nearby wall as he hungrily, aggressively delves into that kiss. There's no protest in Dahlia now. Now she pulls him to her. Her movements are naturally less violently edged, but this is no less a release of these feelings for her. The whole affair is heated and without any mind paid for the the coldness of the stone as her towel drops away. It won't be a long tryst, if she has her way, hands groping for laces on his pants, her body urging him to get on with it. Romantic, no? Romance has little place here. One of Ka'ge's hands releases her long enough to help with the strings of his trousers, stepping on the edges of the end of them to quickly drop them to his ankles and off. He doesn't wear a belt, thus the effort is quite quick. He doesn't require too much urging, though that hand does slam into the wall beside her head as he continues to melt into that rough kiss. Eventually, he breaks in a gasp of breath, looking at her from beneath those heavy, shadowing brows of his. His other hand slips down behind her bottom, then her thigh. And, if she's willing, lift her up to set her hips into his, with her back still pressed against the wall. Dahlia is too far engrossed to care much how the peg makes it into the slot, so long as it does. So long as her hands can twist into his shirt, can keep him near, so long as her teeth can find his throat, and not to tear it out (as it happens). When it's over she's gasping for breath, the weight of her balanced between Ka'ge and the wall, her head pressed against his cheek. "Kael," she manages between breaths, a little questioningly. Are they good now? Do they still have to shout at each other? Ka'ge is roughly impassioned, strong enough to keep her there with relative ease, fit enough despite his exhaustion to go for the length of time he needs to without a break, without difficult. He's not violent with her, though his stern expression remains such that he looks angry the entire time. When all is said and done, he's panting harshly, leaning forwards until he's pressed himself against her and his head on his hand that's at the wall. With their proximity, she can likely feel him shivering slightly, though from what- rage, exhaustion, pleasure?- it's unclear. He'd set her down to be able to stand on her own soon enough, but perhaps a feline's got his tongue until he Dee turns her head, pressing a kiss just where his jaw and neck meet. "I'm sorry, too. Not for this," this, her hips shift just a little, enough to indicate her meaning, "but can we-- can we fight later when there isn't a sickness to worry about? When I've gotten more sleep? When I feel like I can think straight? Can we be 'okay' for now?" As the anger dissolves, worn away by the energy it took to do something far more pleasant than punching something (or someone), there's a lot of other 'somethings' there in his expression. "If there's one thing I know, Dee, it's that there isn't always a later. I will love you now, even if you can't do the same." His voice is strained once he's caught his breath, and his hand encircles the back of her head, fingers laced into her hair. He tips his head up to press a long kiss to her forehead, a sensation of it being something he wants to remember, as if there may not be another. "Sleep." He says as he steps back reluctantly, "Zymadiath will always be within reach." She clings to him, embracing, for what is there that she can say? Slowly, slowly, Dee disentangles herself from him. She finds her own feet, her own balance a little slower in coming. She leans up to kiss him, if he'll have it, a lingering kiss, a soft kiss. Still, she says nothing. Perhaps the kiss will have to serve as farewell, for she can't seem to even say that. Ka'ge seems to expect the silence, and although he accepts the kiss, it's with reserve. He turns his gaze from her once she's found her feet, stooping to pull his pants back on and lace them with efficient swiftness. He tugs his patchy grey tunic down over them, his flight jacket reshifted with a rolled shrug of his shoulders. It's without further fanfare that he turns from her, for he has no words for a goodbye either, and keeps his head down as he passes back into her main weyr, beyond her gold and out into the night that comforts even the worst of his days. |
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