Logs:Entertaining Friends
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| RL Date: 31 January, 2016 |
| Who: Lys, T'gar |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lys invades T'gar |
| Where: Sculpted Shadows Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 12, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Dahlia/Mentions, Drex/Mentions, Farideh/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, Ka'ge/Mentions, L'rok/Mentions, N'klas/Mentions, Pia/Mentions, Quinlys/Mentions, Rh'mis/Mentions, Silva/Mentions, T'zul/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Language. Crassness. Adult themes. Very, very back-dated. |
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| It's dinnertime in the Weyr with many of its denizens out and about. With riders returning from sweeps and other duties, among them is T'gar as he and Asaroth arrive on their ledge and he dismounts to head inside. Dressed in hand-me-down riding leathers and looking near-exhausted, the weyrling immediately settles at his table with a cup and a cheap-looking wineskin. "I brought whiskey," might be peace offering. "It's probably better than your wine," if not by much. Did he notice the slender form of the blonde lying (fully clothed) on top of his now neatly made bed, her boots at its foot, along with the bottle. Lys rolls onto her side, propping her head onto her hand, supported by her elbow, her other arm touching the bed near her middle. "How come you've never invited me over?" Where never probably means something more personal than the card games of his time as weyrling wingleader. T'gar did not notice the blonde on his now-made bed. With him so focused on getting something to drink, when Lys suddenly speaks he's nearly tossing the half-filled cup at the wall. "Fuck-! Whatareyou--?" He turns in quick succession, finding Lys there before he turns a look towards the ledge (as if checking to make sure he didn't miss a green dragon on his way in). "Is this what you do?" he manages to say now as he sets the cup down, working to bring his breathing to calm. "Sneak into other people's weyrs? What if I had twins in here or something like that? Why would you want to come over?" is his return question to her own on invitation. "My space isn't exactly a hangout spot unless we're about to..." hand moves from him to her and back again. He doesn't need to finish that sentence, right? If it helps, Lys doesn't look especially gratified by his surprise. There was no green on the ledge, not just then. Given Evyth's friendly temperament, it's possible that Lys had to hitch a ride for this unannounced rendez-vous. Blue-green eyes stay levelly on the bronzerider. She doesn't answer the first question, though she looks thoughtful. "I might watch, I might not," seems to answer the matter of twins, and she grins at him, expression playful. She sits, swinging her legs down over the edge of his bed, "We're friends," perhaps it was an executive decision on her part. "Why wouldn't I want to come hang out? There are only so many places you can actually talk in a Weyr without everyone and their uncle's cousin's brother and his brown dragon being interested in your business." She shrugs her shoulders before she rises and plucks up the whiskey to bring it toward him. "I visit people," she allows finally about the first. I wouldn't really call it sneaking, since that would require some measure of subtlety or something and it's really just a matter of getting dropped off on the ledge in question. No locks or anything." That's wry and she wiggles the bottle a little, perhaps tempting him to simply accept that she's here to visit. T'gar's still frowning, but at least the heat of the frown is letting off. "You, watching," he echoes with a note of open doubt. "I don't see it for one second. Pretty sure that boy of yours would have a problem with it. Why the whiskey?" He nods at what Lys waves as he approaches her now. "You may have to drink from the bottle," he warns now, "because, I only have the one cup." Yes, his weyr is still under construction and poor. "Look, if I walk in on you with twins," Lys replies with a return of sass for his doubt, "I don't think V'ret would blame me one bit for watching." Maybe Lys is a fully certified vixen now. It could have happened! "Besides, we're not exclusive," comes with a little shrug and she pops the cork. Okay, so it's not a full bottle of whiskey, but it's decent and it's hers, and she's also poor. At least she's sharing (even if she does take a drink first before passing it). "I think I'll survive comes with another smile. "When I used to not drink, I never came with peace offerings and that seemed to go poorly for me. Seems like this has worked better. Since you haven't thrown me out or attacked me or screamed at me, or any of the usual reactions." None of which seem to bother her a stitch. "Mmhmm," T'gar says on her first as he crosses his arms. Once she drinks, he lets the offer hang a bit before he reaches out to take it up and drinks from it himself. He hooks a chair over towards the bed with one leg before sitting as he states, "I won't kick you out. Lucky for you, I have no prospects here tonight. How did you like the party?" He takes another drink before passing it back. "Are we friends?" may be an odd question for any number of reasons, chiefly among them that Lys has just declared them to be so and that it doesn't seem to follow any of the things T'gar's just said. There's an odd sort of vulnerability to her expression as she looks at him, though there's that edge that means she's actively trying not to look that way. "The sort of friends who don't spread each other's shit around?" Rat doesn't answer Lys' question right away, the man watching her in veiled curiosity before answering. "We are," he decides, nodding once as he takes in her change in demeanor. "If we weren't, your ass would be out on the cold ledge right now. I don't like my shit spread around, so, be assured that your secret's safe with me." It's then Lys' turn to consider Rat, perhaps trying to determine if she can really trust the bronzerider (or perhaps only to what degree). Something in the set of her shoulders relaxes though. "It's not too late to throw me out," she offers, but since she's reaching for the bottle, it probably would be without that. "I'm glad the party's over. A lot of work and I don't know if it did what I was hoping it would. And it was complicated to be there. I like it better when I can keep different parts of my life separate. What about you? How'd you like it?" "Now that you're here, I'm too curious to throw you out," T'gar puts to her in response to her first. Handing the drink over, "I'm surprised it wasn't Silva orchestrating the whole thing," he admits about the party with an arched smile. "Seems like more her thing. It wasn't bad. Parties I usually attend tend to be much less tame. It's to get together since one soon, we'll all be in wings." "Started as Farideh and I talking about getting dressed up and having a pretend gather. Not really sure how it became every single weyrling, though that saved me the trouble of trying to decide if I'd invite anyone." That requires a drink for Lys. "It does seem more Silva's thing, but I got pretty good at getting to know about those kinds of things while I was assisting Irianke. Before she became Senior. And Farideh's assistants were all helpful and Pia-- so enthusiastic." When isn't Pia enthusiastic? "I might have liked something less tame," she supposes. "I think we were probably all on our best behavior because it was Farideh's place, and Quinlys was there, and-- yeah, I'm not sure that all of us would really want to hang out with one another generally. Might've been wilder if all of us liked and trusted one another, instead of just some." Propped on his backwards chair, "Whatever wing you end up in will probably love you," T'gar notes on her hosting skills. "I don't see a whole lot of letting loose around here. No, something less tame would have gotten the lot of us in trouble," he notes on Quinlys and Farideh being present, grinning. "Not to say that it couldn't happen, but, like you said, our clutchmates aren't exactly friends with each other. Silva nearly bit my head off suggesting to her that we should raid Farideh's bedroom, case in point. She managed to take that suggestion as a proposition." He gives Lys a look. "Well, clearly, you shouldn't have propositioned her," Lys tells T'gar, deadpan, then laughs. "Silva's a trip," she decides. "Not the sort I'd be friends with, I think, but then she's younger, which is sort of weird to think because I always used to be the young one." The greenrider's nose wrinkles. Clearly, they're becoming ancient! She claims a chair, finally, offering back the whiskey, lounging in a slouch. "I probably wouldn't've raided Farideh's bedroom with you, but only because I already know there's probably nothing worth taking. My tastes run differently anyway." And she probably wouldn't steal from a friend. "Maybe we'll try something less tame. If there are any of us that would be friends with one another." She contemplates that. "Are you friends with any of our clutchmates?" Snorting with a roll of eyes, "Yeah, clearly," T'gar states on Silva. "It was entertaining that she said it right in front of both Farideh and our weyrlingmaster. Bet they both think I'm some sleaze. I know Farideh does." On raiding bedrooms, "I was only interested in taking her diary if she had one," he tells her when she speaks of tastes. "I bet she would have some interesting entries." He reaches out for the whiskey now as he seems to contemplate her question on friends - and their shared class - with a slight shrug. "I'm always in for something less tame. It'd be like old times. As for if I'm friends with anyone in our class, I'd say the closest to that goal would just be you, and Nik. I don't have time for snotty people," alluding to the rest of the class falling under or close to that category. "Farideh would probably think that even if you never gave her anything to go on. Bronzeriders and all that." Lys looks a little amused. If she knows if Farideh has a diary, she's not telling, evidently. "Does it matter if they think you're a sleaze? I'm not sure anyone grown would take Silva's actions as any kind of trustworthy evidence." It seems like this greenrider wouldn't at any rate. There's some amusement from Lys, who seems to get along with a fair handful or more of their clutchmates, though only a few would be friends, Jocelyn, V'ret, and clearly T'gar among them. "Nik's a good kid. Oblivious. But a good kid." She shifts a little in her seat looking at T'gar thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I could have a not-tame time if Ev were there. I'm not sure he'd approve." That's something she chews over. "She's determined to think I'm the worst," T'gar gives with the ease of amusement. "And well, I'm not a sleaze. I wouldn't like being seen as something I'm not. If that's the stigma attached to me in the end, I'd rather it at least be true." On friends, he takes a drink before nodding on N'klas. "He is," he agrees. "I didn't think we would even get along, him being so connected to this place and all. He's not as oblivious as he appears, either. V'ret wouldn't want you having a good time?" That gets his interest before he grins and hands back the whiskey. "A shame. That's the price for having a relationship sometimes. Luckily I'm too sleazy to be tied down. Evidently." "She might be. I'd try to give you advice about how you might reverse that view, only I'm not sure she changes her mind about people often, so you might be screwed." Lys is honest, at least. "I think it must be hard for them. The goldriders. To always wonder what a bronzerider's motivations are. It makes it complicated to think well of any of them, I'd think." She shrugs her shoulders a little, but there's sympathy in her expression. "I didn't say that V'ret wouldnt' want me to have a good time, I said not-tame. Twins, for example, would probably be out of the question unless I wanted to share," and there's some amusement for that idea, but it also requires another swallow of the whiskey. "Maybe we should go find some people to not be tame with. Nik might be too young," she observes, though there might be more to her desire to exclude him for not-tame times; how well does Nik keep his mouth shut? Making a quick face, "I prefer Drex to her, really," T'gar says on reversing views. "Doesn't matter in the end. I was doomed the minute Asaroth stumbled into my path. Does a bronzerider need to not have a motive to deal with weyrwomen, though?" he asks aloud. On less-tame times, "You wouldn't want to share twins with V'ret? Why not? To me, that would be a pretty badass way to have a date," he tells Lys, grinning. "V'ret doesn't seem like a stick in the mud to me." Brow lifting now, "So what sort of people we need to find, and where would we find them?" he asks now. "Drex is an interesting guy," Lys says after another swallow, offering the bottle back over, her tone not betraying how she means that 'interesting' to be taken. "It doesn't matter if a bronzerider does or doesn't have a motive to deal with weyrwomen. In the end, it's that some do that screws the lot of you, I think. Tough luck," she offers by way of slim sympathy. "And I'd be jealous," which is rather an odd thing for someone in a non-exclusive relationship to say, but there it is. "It's fine if I'm not there," in theory, "but up close... I'd rather have his attention." The rest takes some thought. "We might be able to find them at another Weyr, but we'd probably get a reputation." Taking the drink, "He is," T'gar agrees with her on Drex. "His hatred of dragonriders is of interest to me. Amusement, too, to be honest. So it's more about you being the jealous one rather than him," he takes up her answer on twins and dates with open amusement. "I almost didn't expect that of you, Lys, but I get it. Do you know other people in other Weyrs?" he now asks, the question of interest for him. "It is pretty interesting that a man who hates dragons loves a woman with a gold one," Lys observes thoughtfully, but then there the matter of V'ret and jealousy and the face she's needing to make. "Well, it might be both ways, but I haven't exactly given him the chance to need to display it. I've been very careful." She purses her lips a little. "I'm trying to wrap my head around sex just being sex and it not mattering. I managed it once, sort of, only then the guy talked to me later," who does that? "and it was weird." So weird. "Something about me helping him by talking to him and being a frigid bitch to him?" Does T'gar understand? Clearly Lys doesn't. With a little sigh, "I know some people, some places. Mostly Igen and Ista. Still making acquaintances other places." "Maybe he ignores the dragonrider part of her?" T'gar hazards a guess, the Drex-Farideh relationship of obvious interest for him. "Maybe she's not always with her dragon. I don't think weyrwomen get out all that much compared to us, right? It makes me wonder if he would be different with her if she had impressed green." On jealousy, "Embrace the Weyr lifestyle, Lys," he tells her, his amusement rising. "Monogamy isn't a common staple here. Not that I have anything against monogamy myself." But. Her last gets a thoughtful look before he says back, "I don't know anybody. Well, I take that back. Other than L'rok and he's here. And Dee. She's from Fort." "Maybe. People have ignored crazier things in people they love, I bet." Lys considers, "Though, maybe he just loves to hate that part? Some people get off on that." She might not be thinking of Drex then, but whatever history she might recall, she's not sharing. "Weyrwomen get busy. Some seem to be better about self-care than others, but most of them seem to be workaholics." She shakes her head a little, "That's why I wanted the party. To give Farideh a break. I'm not sure she got to cut loose with all of us there." She avoids T'gar's gaze for a time after that as she contemplates, "See, that's just it. I'm trying to. I have to sleep with whoever whenever Evy goes up, and that matters whether people say it does or not. Only the people that I'm into would, I think, prefer to be only with me, given the choice, only I don't give them that choice. Someday, one or the other will ask it of me and I don't know what I'll do then." She reaches up and scratches her head, tilting it, eyes on the ceiling, the picture of self-consciousness. "I know Z'riah down at Southern. He'd know how to not have a tame time of it, but he might take a fancy to you." She eyes the bronzerider speculatively. "You may be right," T'gar says to Lys on Drex possibly getting off on his hate. "And, you're a good person, Lys. Throwing a party for Farideh. It's selfless. I hope she appreciated it." And then, the bronze weyrling seems to regard Lys' dilemma steadily when it comes to sex, and eventually he grunts a bit as he takes a drink. "They're just going to have to understand if they want to be with you," he says with a no-nonsense tone. "I would believe that's what comes with being with a greenrider, or even a weyrwoman. They'll never be completely yours. Some people get it, some people don't." As for people to know, there's a blink of his gaze on her mentioning Z'riah before her meaning comes clear and he looks away, snorting. "As flattered as I'd be, I wouldn't be interested," he tells her on that. "It's not exactly selfless," Lys doesn't seem to appreciate being called those nice things, her nose wrinkling. "I sort of fucked up our friendship a little. I was messed up when she Impressed because of the cave-in and I left, and it was only supposed to be a few months, but then it turned out to be more than a turn, and I promised I'd write and I never did, and-- Trying to mend something I broke. I miss her." The last is admitted sort of quietly. "She was sort of my first real friend." She makes a grabby hand by way of request for the bottle before saying, "It would be easier, if I didn't care. Can't imagine what I'm going to do when I hurt them by not making a choice. And--" it's easier to say this next, to even smile while she says it, "-you say that now, but Z'riah is very pretty, and very convincing when he wants to be." "That you cared enough to do all that just to apologize speaks for itself," T'gar insists quietly. "Believe me. I come from a place where that sort of thing is few and far between. Are you and her okay now?" He passes the drink over then as he says on caring, "Love is messy. Even without the dragons involved. Way I see it, if it's meant to be, not even flights will get in the way of it. They may surprise you yet." But then she's teasing about Z'riah and he's not sending her a look along with a bland, "If by 'convincing', you mean he's managed to grow a pair of tits and can make his dick vanish into thin air. I haven't met anyone that could do that." Lys looks uncomfortable for the first; praise and compliments - she doesn't accept them gracefully. "I doubt it," she says after a moment. "Not sure she's in a place where she feels like she can be friends like that again. All I can do for her right now is be what she might need now," and who's to say if that fits with what Lys needs, if Lys needs anything? That last has Lys' face pinching to hold off laughter, features briefly scrunched as she shakes her head swiftly to clear the image. "Talk like that some more and I might stop wanting him," does come with laughter. "Love is complicated," she feels the need to agree. "What about you? Have you found your dream twins?" "Hmmm," T'gar says to Lys' answer on Farideh, the sound thoughtful before he catches her expression on the topic about Z'riah. "Well, I'm just not into men," he says with a slight shrug. "I'm sure he might look great with a pair of tits. You would still bang. Admit it." Laughter aside, though, her question seems to catch him off-guard a bit, and he snickers a bit before he answers her. "I've found a woman that's older and out of my league - and taken. I'm the embodiedment of the tragic harper love tale. I usually drown my sorrows in food and a punching bag." Lys's nose wrinkles but she's laughing. That's not a yes, though, but rather a, "No, thanks. I like my men to be men and my women to be women. Can't say if I'd like them both together because I've never tried it, might never even." She shrugs her shoulders, slouching more comfortably as she looks at T'gar. "Harper's love tale, probably, with your face being all--" she gestures to indicate the whole of it as if he should know his rugged good looks without her having to specify, "but probably you're just at the part of the story that makes the readers feel sorry for you so they're all the happier when you triumph in the end. It's a good thing, really, that those things go together, or you might get fat." The way she looks at him so seriously can only mean she's teasing him, but her deadpan is very convincing for what it is. "Fat men never get to be the hero, just you remember that." At least not in romantic harper tales. "There's every card on the table to prove that I won't triumph," say T'gar to harper love tales and heroes. "But I'm leaving it to be her choice to let me go. Maybe I like being tortured. And I won't gat fat. Our weyrling class has more to worry about that than I do." "Maybe not with her, but who says she's actually the girl you're supposed to get in your story?" Lys counters, with a challenging lift of her brows. "I think I'd rather be in your shoes. Tortured. I'm tortured because I have no bad choices in front of me. Only good ones that are just different from one another. Guess how many people would give me any kind of sympathy if I told them that?" She's not expecting it from T'gar at all, but there's a bottle that won't talk back, so she takes a swig before setting it on the table within easy reach of either of them. Snorting, "With my luck in this place?" T'gar notes on women-getting as he drapes his arms over the back of the chair facing her. "I've got half the women here thinking that every word that comes out of my mouth is me aiming to spread their legs wide, and the other half here is thinking that I'm trouble personnified encased in bronzerider skin. You want to be scowled at or not taken seriously? We can trade places." He gives her a little smirk for her words. "No one will give you sympathy. I won't. I don't know why you won't just offer them a threesome and get it over with." Clearly in his mind. "No one said you had to find your woman in this place. You've got a sharding dragon now, dimwit," Lys probably means that term fondly even if her tone changes little from what the usual meaning would be. "Look how many people have found people outside of here. K'del has Ali. Irianke has -- well, too many to name," but that's not saying anything gossip doesn't already tell often enough, "mostly not here. And there are others. I think T'zul even met someone in Honshu. Pern is huge, there are lots of women for you to dip your dick into. Maybe one will be the perfect fit," there's obvious humor now. And she reaches for the bottle to take two swallows before she adds, "They don't like each other." "You wouldn't get it," T'gar tells her, shaking his head. "I'm not looking to be someone's weyrmate all the way out to Ista. Affairs is one thing. I know shit happens, but I am Reaches' man. Maybe there's someone out there would change my mind." There's a 'but' hanging there, but he doesn't look to be pursuing that line of conversation, only to add in the end, "It's not a big deal." Delving into her last, "Unfortunate for you. Even moreso if one of them starts making ultimatums. That's inevitable," he notes, reaching for her whiskey. "K'del is probably the most 'Reaches man' that anyone could be and he still has a weyrmate leading a different Weyr altogether. Have you asked N'klas how many babies his dad and Ali have?" Lys' eyes bug expressively, because it's just so many. "But if you want local, then you'll have to take your lumps to get it. And not get fat." This seems to be key. "Punching bag," is added, "over food for your deep, broody moody bronzerider despair. Did I mention no one's going to give you sympathy either on account that they figure you've got it made because of what's between your legs?" She might mean the shiny dragon. "And K'del's been getting a lot of flack because of it from some of the riders around here," T'gar counters with a look towards Lys. "If you've heard the rumblings like I have. I have aims to go high in this Weyr just like he did, so, the politics like being linked to someone running another Weyr is of interest to me." Lys's advice has him trying to nudge at her leg if he could, saying back, "If I wanted sympathy, I'd just go back to Bitra and cry on my father's capable shoulders. Thanks for mentioning my dick, by the way." Even if she really didn't. "So you're saying you'd rather be scowled at and assumed a horndog by women who don't want you than blissfully happy with one that does and get flack for divided loyalties? Men. You always want everything to be so perfect," Lys says with pretended exasperation. Followed by a deepening of her slouch, and an equally feigned husky tone of desire, "Oh, T'gar, I could talk about your dick all night long," and with an abrupt return to her usual voice, "If I weren't so sure I'd fall asleep long before then. Talk of Bitra and tears in the same sentence, really. Are you trying to drive me off for better times in other places? I could go invade someone else's weyr." All of that is with much the tone of a friend giving another friend a hard time for the shell of it, though the last seems to stick as a thought to really think over. "I'm 22 turns old," T'gar is easy to counter her on the first. "I can be just as indecisive as you women are." He snorts his amusement as her theatrics, and when she grows bored of his own, there's a shrug to that along with a wry, "I can start dancing around naked right now instead. I'm sure that will have you off breaking into someone else's weyr, too." "Or maybe I'll just stay and watch," Lys counters with a dark sort of amusement, though not any tone of challenge. "I am weyrbred. It's not like I haven't seen enough dangly bits in my life. Besides, if you do, I'll just be able to describe it in great detail to the older woman who's out of your league when I sort just who it is." There's some kind of promise-slash-threat there. "And I'm not drunk enough for it, anyway." Just in case the bronzerider needed another reason to not. "And here I thought you were fun," teases T'gar openly, though at least there's no heat behind his words. "Good thing you don't know who's got my eye, right? I wouldn't want you under-exaggerating me. So far, looks like weyrbred women don't know a good thing when they see it." Settling back, "And anyway," he adds far too casually, "I'll just end up meddling in your love life if you end up meddling in mine. Least I can do and all." "What? A little blackmail doesn't qualify as fun?" Lys affects confusion. Clearly no one told her! "I thought you were wild, Rat," is an open tease in return. "I don't think under-exaggeration is ever a problem for me, but if you want to do it twice just to make sure I got it," she makes a gesture that indicates 'be my guest' (even if this is all hot air). After a moment, she grins at him, "You know, I think we might end up friends after all." As if they hadn't already said so. Still, it looks like she's going to get up and since Evyth seems to be angling to land, she's probably leaving, particularly since she reaches for what little is left of the whiskey to cork it. "You can have more when you visit me," she tells him. It's his turn next, logically. "Too rich for my blood," is what T'gar says on blackmail. He appears non-plussed about it. "Guess I'm not much of a risk-taker, but I'll dabble in instigating at least." On friends, there's even a snort for that one - but at least it's a snort that doesn't negate what Lys says. Once she gets up with the bottle, "And we'll strangle each other by the new turn," is his comment. "You carry more than whiskey around. Girls that usually ply me with heavy liquor wants to seduce me. I stop by your place, I'll be stealing bottles for pay." There's a smile. What are friends for? "Bad news," Lys tells him, her tone mournful, "I'm just as broke as you are. This was my last one, til next time I smile pretty for some stupider than average man. And since I didn't search your weyr, I'm sure you wouldn't dream of pawing through my things either. And if you're lucky, I'll ply you with heavy liquor again and not seduce you. Call it Lys' Special treatment." It's all very tongue in cheek. "See you, T'gar," she offers cheerfully before she's heading for the ledge. "Tease," is what the bronze weyrling tosses in her wake, his smile heard in his voice. "Got outta here, woman. I'll paw through your things later." It must be his way of bidding her farewell, for it's the last to be heard from the weyr. |
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