Logs:To Explore
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| RL Date: 23 December, 2015 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Surprised by a visit from Lys, Jocelyn asks-without-asking her for a date. |
| Where: Jocelyn's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 16, Month 8, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: T'gar/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
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| The first weeks of this new weyrlinghood month have seen changes in Lys' schedule from the last one. Markedly less busy without the wingleader responsibilities, she's not been seen to do much studying with any of her fellow silver threads who each occupied some of her time in the month before. For those paying attention, she's been seen once in a while visiting V'ret's ledge but not so often or so obviously as to mark it as distinctly something personal if one is not already in the 'know.' She's been avoiding Jocelyn in private though her behavior hasn't changed where others might see. Today, though, with duties finished and dinner not yet upon them, Lys makes her way up to the weyrleaders' complex and past Aidavanth with a polite nod. Normally, she'd ask if Jocelyn were in, but this, whatever this is, seems to press her enough to just keep her feet going lest her knees give out before she makes it into the receiving space in the more public area of the weyr, calling, "Joce?" And some moments later, again, tone uncertain. It's a freshly bathed and oiled Aidavanth, now the size of a small adult blue, that's present to watch Lys enter this afternoon, eyes spinning a pleased blue for Evyth's rider as she passes by. For all that the dragon's reaction is a clear sign of welcome, the outermost section of Jocelyn's weyr is quite empty. Someone must have sent up a tray with a glass and pitcher of juice from the kitchens not long ago; it's still cool, still sitting on the table in the entryway. There's a startled curse from somewhere past the inner curtain after the second repetition of the goldrider's name, followed by the sound of bare feet on stone. It's yet some minutes more before the other weyrling finally appears, batting her way past the heavy drapery while trying to hold a twisted towel atop her head. The scowl that accompanies Jocelyn's awkward entrance fades fast once she catches sight of her visitor, eyebrows lifting in broadcasted surprise. "You're not the weaver, " is said with marked relief, hands stuffing into the pockets of her dark-blue bathrobe once she resecures the smaller towel about her head. More evenly: "What can I do for you?" It's a deliberately casual, if careful greeting. "I'm not," Lys agrees, now standing with her hands tucked behind her, though perhaps there was some circumspect investigation of that tray and its juice for details like how long the goldrider's been in. The look Lys gives Jocelyn is a little bit... different... than any she's given the redhead before, blue-green eyes shyly taking in the towel, the robe and what skin might be available to her eye, a slight blush touching her own cheeks possibly as much from just being here as the awkwardness of the other woman's entrance. "Are you expecting...?" The weaver, she means. "I can come back later," is offered, but so too is, "I could help you with your hair before they get here?" which is distinctly different than the first. "I used to do for Irianke all the time." It's added almost as justification, as if she might need that to make the offer seem valid. Jocelyn flushes, too, for that look, pale gaze flicking briefly toward the stairs down to the main level of the complex before returning to Lys. "No, " seems to serve as an immediate reply for all three matters at hand, the older woman turning to tilt a nod toward the tray. "Help yourself, if you want any. I, " ahem, "I can go change." That's apparently more for the other's comfort than her own, even as her nose wrinkles a little. "I was half-afraid the weaver I worked with yesterday was chasing me down for more measurements, " which was apparently a distasteful exercise. Lys takes a half-step toward Jocelyn, hand starting to come up like she might reach to stop her, only she stops after that one step and the hand hovers low. "You don't have to," is instead the tumble of words that might forestall her going. "I mean, if you'd rather, but--" The blonde struggles for words and settles on a nerve-wracking, "I'm still me, I'm just-- you know, me plus wondering what it would be like to kiss you." The blush is deeper. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act now, Joce. I've been thinking and thinking and thinking about-- things-- and I don't have more answers and it might be because I'm-- it doesn't feel real." All a blurt, all fast, just in case she might not be able to say any of it if Jocelyn walks away now and gives her a chance to become some variety of coward, again, as matters of the heart seem to generally reduce her to being. "Lys." Jocelyn manages to wrap layers of something into her name, voice quiet even as her expression remains largely impassive. Her eyes might give her away, and her hands - well, there's nothing for it. They shake a little as she reaches for a glass on the tray, turns it upright, then replaces it in its original position. "Would - " A pause, where she gives the blonde a weighing sort of look. "Would it feel more real if you knew?" What it would be like. "It might," Lys admits, looking back at the goldrider thoughtfully. "But I don't want to make things harder," if it would. "I have questions. They're prying and they're personal." At least she'll say that. "I wish that we could explore this-- not as an experiment-- but not as an all or nothing thing." It might amaze even Lys herself that she's able to articulate that, knowing what it might risk. Then there's one of those questions: "I wouldn't be your first, would I? A someone who's something to you." Despite the fact that there's a little tug of her lips wanting to smile at that reference to that-- thing that phrase that has taken on such meaning between the last time and this, she doesn't smile. She's quite serious, but her expression open, thoughtful. What she's certainly not doing is dismissing Jocelyn or her interest out of hand. Jocelyn's look turns faintly approving for that answer, fidgeting hand shifting its nervous movements into a wiggling gesture toward the more comfy-looking set of seats near the bookcase. "Maybe we should sit down for prying, personal questions, " she suggests, folding herself into one of those chairs without waiting to see if Lys will follow; she, at least, needs to be seated for this. "I - " There's another glance Aidavanth-ward, but there's apparently little help coming her way from the orange-gold, for the set of her shoulders drops after a moment. "I'm not good at this. The last thing I intended was for you to feel - pressured. I'm not asking you to commit to decades right here, right now. Shells, I can't even do that. But I'd want to learn, " and she allows that thought to fall away, tugging the towel down to twist at her thick, still-wet hair. "Not the first someone who is something, if you're asking if I've had crushes on people before, " drily. "But the first someone outside of impossible, adolescent pipe-dreams." She at least recognizes that there's a difference there, so that's something. Lys, similarly, takes a seat, but perhaps because she thinks it would make Jocelyn more comfortable if she did. Her hands come to her front, fingers re-lacing in her lap, loosely. Her fingers together give her something to fidgit with while she listens. She doesn't seek to interrupt or interject, not even when her first remark in response ends up, "I'm not good at this either. I never even had crushes, really," til, presumably, now. Fingers tug at one another, still laced and then ease off in tension. "I might be able to give everything eventually," eventually, "but I can't now. But that doesn't mean that I'm not-- I am interested, in finding out if--" She makes a frustrated sound. "See? Not good at this." As if they needed pointed-to proof. "Have you ever dated?" It's another blurt, another one of those personal, prying questions. "If, " Jocelyn prompts patiently, allowing her features to soften a trifle as she drops the hair-towel into her lap so that she can resume twisting at it there, all fidget now without function. "If we could be what we each - want? Need? Hope for?" There's a grimace for this next inquiry, followed by a quick head-shake in the negative. "No one's ever asked in seriousness, " she answers honestly, attention settling on the towel she's still wringing absently. "Someone did ask once as a joke, I think. Or maybe he lost a bet, I'm not sure which. It was right after I was first promoted by the headwoman's office." Mouth still pressing thin for the memory, blue-gray eyes lift to consider Lys. "I've never asked anyone, either, if that's your next question. I'd like to, though." That's left there, as she adds a curious: "Have you?" "That," Lys admits to Jocelyn's suggested if's, blushing renewed a little, but not avoiding her eyes. The last is easiest to address: "I never was interested. I guess," she reconsiders, chewing her lip, "I guess you could say there was a trader that I had an interest in, but he had a someone and I wasn't in a good place to really think about it." She tugs her fingers against each other again in her lap, adding, "I got curious about kissing when I was seventeen and experimented a little, with men I knew. But no dates. No liking people in that way, til now." She does look at Jocelyn when she says it, but clearing her throat she delivers carefully, "I don't need to tell you details you don't want, but if we're going to even talk about the 'ifs' between us, I won't hide things from you. Things are more complicated with V'ret than going on dates," which they've never done. "Brownrider, " Jocelyn admits of one past interest, however fleeting, however impossible, "but I'm sure he just saw me as that girl who worked with his sister's friend's friend." Her brow furrows a little, but she doesn't make a move to get up from her seat, even if her posture speaks of some awkwardness with V'ret's name back in the open. "It's plain to me when you mention him that you like him a lot, " the redhead says matter-of-factly. "If you feel safe with him, safe enough for - there to be details I probably don't want to hear in full, then that's - I'm glad you've found that." Even if it is with someone she struggles to tolerate on her best days. More quietly, "I'd ask if you wanted to - figure out dating, but only if you considered yourself free enough to be asked. I'm not entirely sure that you do." There's a slight shift in Lys' posture that suggests she might like to get up and move to Jocelyn, but after that slight movement, she stays where she is. "His loss," is easy as friend-or-more for the brownrider. "I do care about V'ret," Lys' only qualm about admitting it shows in the concerned way she studies the redhead's face: she doesn't want to hurt her. "Everything, and I mean everything, the feelings, the physical parts, even the idea that I could have dates, is so new that what makes it complicated for me is trying to choose between things when I don't really know what either of those things are or could be. Like picking redfruit or citrus, never having really tasted either. But." She blushes, "More complex." Because this isn't apples and oranges, not really. "I don't want to put you in a position you're uncomfortable with, but I don't want to just end things with him, not even knowing--" She swallows. This is hard, clearly, for her. "I do want to have a date with you, Joce, but I can't choose one or the other of you now and I don't know if you could be-- well, not comfortable, but not-- prohibitively uncomfortable," she settles on that choice of words awkwardly, "with it. With not having everything from the start." "You'd hardly be you if you didn't, " Jocelyn decides calmly enough for the other's admission, listening silently for the rest. Arms folding across her chest, she leans back into her chair, lips pursed. It's a thoughtful, if somewhat self-protective pose she's in. "There has to be a beginning somewhere before one decides that everything is the best course of action, " she reasons aloud at some length. "If you're not exclusive enough with him that you feel it is fair for us to try a - date, I'd like to take you on one. I may not like him, but stepping on toes in situations like this never seemed - just." Her cheeks redden a little, but she holds eye contact as long as Lys will have it after her spiel. Lys looks self-conscious in the face of Jocelyn's assessment, but that passes quickly enough and by the time the goldrider has spoken about dates, the greenrider is smiling, warmly and-- well, just a little impishly. "I'd like to go on a date with you, if you'll ask me, so you can't say you haven't before." Asking in the most technical sense, of course, and there's a gentle tease there even if the predominant emotion seems to be a buoyant joy that might be more reminiscent of Evyth's natural state than Lys'. "I think it's fair." V'ret might disagree, but V'ret isn't here. "He knows that there's someone else I have interest in, but not anything about who. I told you I wouldn't tell anyone about us, or you, and I won't. That includes V'ret." That she doesn't consider it to be his business might be a topic for the mindhealers, but Lys isn't (now) examining that loyalty to the goldrider too closely. Perhaps she's just in the habit of keeping goldriders' secrets. "If you want me to tell him, I will," is offered as an afterthought, like Lys would be genuinely surprised if Jocelyn did want that. Jocelyn makes an impatient noise, but the corners of her mouth lift upward into an almost-tender smile. "You're someone to be cherished, " she says admiringly - openly so, now that she can. "This might sound odd, coming from someone who wishes to - see where things can go with you, too, but - he had better recognize the value of your character." 'Or else' might be unspoken in there somewhere, but the weyrling frowns consideringly for that last bit. "You must do what you feel is best. If he's aware that there's someone, I don't see why a name is necessary so long as he knows that you aren't solely spending time with him." That last phrase is tentative, even as she straightens in her seat. "That is, if you'd - like to spend some time. With me. With food, or drink, or - whatever you'd like. I can probably show you a much nicer time once I'm fully a weyrwoman if you still wish to have the experience, but I think I'd like you to know more of me without the knot being between us yet." "Your knot might come between you and a lot of things, Joce, but never us." Lys says without having to think about it. Nevermind that there are other things that could come between them. Like V'ret, who she doesn't address again save to have nodded her confirmation that he knows that much. "I would," Lys smiles, letting this still-not-technically a question pass. "I'd very much like to have a date with you. And we can be as discreet as you like. I imagine my weyr makes for a romantic setting if we wanted to have an indoor picnic or something, with all the glittering." There's something playful about that smile, too, but it doesn't erased any of the genuineness of the offer. "Could fly outside the Weyr, too, now that we can. I can't imagine anyone would think anything of it," not since they've been friends all along. "'Never' is an absolute, " Jocelyn cautions, but she looks pleased and affected by Lys's loyalty, just the same. "Your weyr is aesthetically appealing, that's true. But I know, " and her own smile turns wry, "that people tend to want different types of experiences with others. So - tell me what you'd like the most, and we'll do our best to make it happen. I don't think a trip together outside of the weyr proper would be terribly suspect, either. It shouldn't be too difficult to find a quiet place for a - picnic, did you say?" A series of short nods follows. "But only if that's what you want to do. I want you to enjoy yourself and feel, " a pause, while she searches for the right term, "celebrated. For being who you are." Lys leans her elbows down onto her knees, hands now clasped out in front of her, leaning toward Jocelyn distinctly now and she repeats with a very stubborn look, "Never." She lingers there a moment to make sure that the goldrider takes the great (possibly a little tongue in cheek) gravity the greenrider gives this topic, before she sits up, smiling (and blushing a little). "I used to hate being in wide open spaces," she tells the goldrider, "but after spending the turn with the traders and coming back to the Weyr, I miss it. So let's find a plateau somewhere where we can watch the stars come out. Unless that's the kind of thing that you hate. Mostly, I'd like to just be able to talk with you. And ask prying, personal questions," that has a hint of teasing to it and the smile that accompanies it, but it's an equal part fair warning. "Stargazing it is, " Jocelyn agrees easily, one hand twitching briefly as though she might like to lift it to reach toward the greenrider. "And you've my word that I will - do my best to answer what I can of your prying, personal questions." And perhaps ask a few of her own, says that look slanted back at Lys. "I shall look forward to our time together." It's a little formal, but there's a warmth discernable that's of a different depth than the usual, sometimes-gruff friendliness she's otherwise known to use in public. This time when Lys moves the movement isn't truncated. She rises and crosses those few steps to stand in front of where Jocelyn sits, reaching her hands down in silent invitation that she might take them, that Lys might in turn use them to draw Jocelyn up to stand. If they can make it that far without incident, she'll seek to draw the redhead into an embrace, softer than a hug, but substantially more contact than they've ever shared before. Jocelyn's eyes, very blue, lift to regard Lys steadily as she approaches, as those hands extend toward her. Silently, she places her hands in her friend's, allows her to draw her to her feet. And that embrace, well - at first, her frame stiffens the tiniest bit in a reaction that must be something other than total discomfort, since it gradually relaxes enough for her to lean gently into that contact, soft bathrobe and all. Her hands are respectful (if awkward, too) at the blonde's shoulders, resting loosely below them as one would when giving a polite hug. Her palms are open, and their press, a gesture of brief warmth. There might be a tiny gust of an exhaled sigh, too. There's a nervous tension from Lys that ebbs once it seems the gesture will be accepted at all. Then she rather throws herself into it, not with physical force, of course, but with something more profound. Her arms curl around Jocelyn's lower back, though nowhere untoward and her head leans against the other woman's shoulder, face turned toward her neck, so close her breath may lightly be felt there. Still, there's no sense of pushing, only easy acceptance of what return Jocelyn is able to give. She doesn't seek to hold the goldrider there awkwardly long, starting to withdraw when the moment seems right. She has a radiant smile for Jocelyn as she straightens. "We'll go when T'gar's encouragement for excellence," only a little tongue in cheek and with a wry smile, "lets us both have free time enough." That ought to be soon enough, right? Jocelyn's inhale is a shaky one; while that embrace holds, she tentatively turns her head a tiny bit toward Lys's neck, too, enough so that the tip of her nose can brush faintly there for a moment, a prelude to her own puff of breath. And when it's over, when she, too, straightens enough to take in the greenrider's smile, there's a softness to her expression, even as one hand lifts so that her knuckles can ghost a small, fleeting touch to a cheek. It feathers down to that smile before she withdraws entirely. "T'gar's unexpected encouragement, " she says with dry amusement. But: "Yes, when we're able. Even if it has to wait a couple of sevens." And now that that's settled, she gives the other one last press of hands before taking a step back. "It was good of you to come by. I should, however, get dressed and work a bit more before dinner. I'll see you there, I trust." Lys's smile grows a little, under that feathery touch, but she doesn't seek to make it more than it is. "Okay," is easy acceptance. "I won't be so much a stranger," she ends up a little awkward in the assurance, but it's assurance nonetheless. "See you at dinner," even. Then she's turning to head back the way she came, smiling to Aidavanth as she goes to meet Evyth in the bowl. |
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