Logs:A Respite
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 6 August, 2016 |
| Who: D'vro, Lys, Colsoth, Evyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: D'vro lets Lys waste a little time with him when she's not ready to go home yet. |
| Where: Solarium and Practically Pragmatic Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 6, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jocelyn/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
    |
| To Colsoth, Evyth has been in contact with Colsoth since she and her rider emerged from between, of course. It's easy to have wonderful conversations when one can't remember the content of the one from more than a handful of days prior. They're there on business, but now she mentions, « Lys says you have a peculiar room. A little like our greenhouse, but without the purpose of it. » A brief flash of the Solarium as seen by the greenrider is included. « She wants to know if D'vro has a recommendation for something tasty from the Sanctuary. » Evidently, the rider must have some time on her hands before their return to their home skies - that, or she's making time. To Evyth, Colsoth is always quite happy to entertain Evyth while she's in Fort Weyr. Even while she's not, really. « D'vro is fond of the sweet biscuits and the tea. » Neither are probably very surprising. « It's a nice room. But mine enjoys the greenhouse more. » There's a pause, and then the bronze asks, « Are you in Fort for very long? » There's the necessary pauses as Evyth confers with her rider, offering D'vro's recommendations (and no, there's no feeling of surprise from either part of this pair). « Lys says it depends on if D'vro would like to be visited or to visit with her here. » It's almost an afterthought that Evyth adds, « This was our last stop today. » At least with Lys and Evyth not being subtle, there can be no mistaking the invitation. Evyth, obviously, would love to stay a time, to speak at length with Colsoth, maybe even go for a fly! (To Colsoth from Evyth) To Evyth, Colsoth seems amused by the green's lack of subtlety, but that's part of what he enjoys about her. Perhaps it reminds him of his rider, too. « He says that Lys is welcome to come to his weyr if she likes. He's going over reports, but would be quite happy to make the tea himself if she'll bring a few biscuits. » To Colsoth, Evyth is soon giggling, her good humor infectious even as she surely doesn't share everything her rider said to her when she relates, « Lys says she'll fetch for him, this time. » There's a teasing lilt to her words, though, so it must be with good humor that that sentiment was given to the green too. It's not too long after that Lys is delivered to D'vro's ledge. She has a shoulder bag that's a patched affair (obviously old, but kept in good repair) and one hand holds a small wooden box that she'll no doubt have to return somewhere before she heads back to High Reaches. She never has been one to wait for personal invitation into someone else's private space so she just heads into the weyr when she arrives. "I brought the biscuits," she informs D'vro with a small smile pressed to closed lips when she sees him. D'vro has already put the water on to heat up, and he's still standing near the hearth when Lys comes inside. It's a nice weyr, comfortably but minimally decorated, with a separate room behind a curtained off doorway for his bed. He has reports on his desk, but he's abandoned them for the moment. They'll be there when he gets back to them soon enough. "Wonderful, thank you. The tea shouldn't take long. Make yourself at home," he says with a vague gesture at the sofa opposite the hearth. "What brings you to Fort today?" "Harpers," Lys replies with a slight widening of that smile, though her lips still stay pressed together when she's not speaking. "Some delivery to the Hall. And Evyth thought since we were nearby, she ought to say hello to Colsoth. It's only polite after all, and..." The greenrider lifts her free hand and revolves it in the air to fill in 'and so on and so on.' "Here we are. Am I an imposition?" The rider is as direct as her dragon, but there might be something to be said for straightforwardness. Even if she is an imposition, she's walking in farther to place the box on his table. Her eyes shamelessly cast about, taking his space, his taste, all of it. "Not at all," D'vro assures her in a way that's almost certainly been practiced to perfection on a lot of people before her. "You brought biscuits, after all. Thank you, for that." The bronzerider offers a small smile, still standing near the hearth rather than making himself comfortable. Perhaps he's never entirely comfortable, even if he's somewhat more dressed down than his leathers usually allow. He's wearing his riding pants, but no boots and no jacket. His shirt is even untucked. Even practiced as it is, even if it is true, Lys gives him a disbelieving look before she glances to the box. "Imagine my relief that biscuits have excused my taking up your valuable time, Wingleader." There's sardonic humor in her voice. She turns toward him and approaches his position by the hearth, giving him a look over now that she's given his place an initial inspection. She's silent for an awkwardly long time, looking at him, but she seems completely comfortable in the awkward. "You would have been welcome regardless, greenrider. I only assumed here would be preferable to... there." It's only on the last word that D'vro seems less certain about his assumption. Awkward isn't something that bothers the bronzerider very much, however, and he simply turns to take the kettle from the hearth and start the tea to steeping after a few moments of considering the young woman. A subtle amusement plays across her lips for a moment after his answer. "I imagine your reputation has more to suffer by being seen spending your time with a young woman, but who knows, maybe my presence would make some men look at you with a whole new and worthless esteem." Lys' tone holds humor and she meanders closer to the hearth to look at his tea making process a moment before she shrugs out of her flight jacket. "That is unless you intended something more than casual talk, in which case I'd say public spaces are the sort of thing you save for the right moment." Something about the set of her lips suggests she didn't really think that was his reasoning. "My reputation is inconsequential beyond being a competent dragonrider and wingleader." Neither of which he probably takes much stock in the opinion of others beyond his Weyrleaders and wingriders, granted. "If you'd prefer the Solarium, I suppose I could visit with you there for a short while." D'vro glances back toward the greenrider, genuinely asking for her preference while he gathers two mugs from one of the shelves that form the mantle of the hearth. Lys' lips part now as her smile broadens, something fond in the expression and her chuckle is soft. She moves, pausing near him so she can reach with her free hand to touch his upper arm. "Here is great." The smile that comes with that is real and she aims to hold his gaze a moment before dropping her hand away. "I appreciate the hospitality, really. I don't want to go home yet." His eyes settle on her hand on his arm for a moment, then look back at her face with a slight nod of his head. "Good." D'vro waits for her hand to move before he's pouring the tea and then handing off one of the mugs to Lys. "I can't say I often have that feeling. I enjoy spending time here." In his home. "It's a nice home." Lys makes the compliment but doesn't linger on it even as she moves to hang her jacket over the back of one chair and settle herself in it, sliding the box of biscuits open. She fidgets a little. "I'm adjusting. I broke up with my boyfriend and my girlfriend, and both times it was ugly and awful, and I like time at home and time with just Evyth and time with work, but it doesn't always fill all the hours." She grimaces a little. "I'll remember how to be on my own again. It's just been a while." "That," begins D'vro, considering his words before he says them out loud, "That sounds unfortunate. Though I'm not sure how anyone has time for one of those, let alone both. For any extended amount of time, at least." He could have considered longer. "Have you considered asking for more work from your Wingleader? I doubt they'd mind helping you find some way to fill your extra time." "It wasn't great. Probably for the best. I don't have any experience with breaking up, so I can't tell if this sort of thing is normal." Lys rolls her shoulders and slouches down into the seat. "I've been doing extra work since I decided to break up with the first one. Pretty much as much as I can get." Another shrug settles her a little lower. "Have you ever broken up with anyone? Or been broken up with?" D'vro makes his way toward the table and sets about settling himself into the other seat. He takes a careful drink of the tea, sets down the mug and reaches for one of the biscuits as he shakes his head in answer to her question. "I've never really been in the sort of relationship that would necessitate either." Other people might beg to differ. Lys straightens enough to lean forward and claim her own mug and draw it more toward the edge of the table. "That sounds nice, to never end up hurting." The young woman studies the older man in silence then, perhaps searching his face for any telltale evidence of emotional damage. "You seem so... well put together. Maybe not balanced, because it seems like your life doesn't include some things most would consider part of a balanced life, but impressively collected and organized." It sounds a little like a compliment. The bronzerider thinks about that while he takes a bite of his biscuit. Once he's swallowed, he'll allow, "It's not an active avoidance. It's just never... happened that way, I suppose?" There's no emotional damage to be seen in D'vro's face, just the same boring features as usual. "I'm not sure my life's balance should be based on someone else's definition of balance. Just as I wouldn't expect you, for instance, to avoid having other boyfriends or girlfriends or what have you." "I might want to. I did for a long time, though I suppose-" Lys' lips pull at the edges to bring a smile back as she mimics his delivery, "-it wasn't an active avoidance." She reaches to collect her own biscuit. "Do you not really develop attachments to people? That's sort of where I got tripped up. I was fine until I became attached to someone, and then it was another and another until I found myself caring for all kinds of people who wouldn't care for me if they knew me well." "I wouldn't hold that against you," D'vro assures the younger woman with a brief smile. "I've had attachments. Most of them developed when I was younger." But it must not be as much of an issue now that he's the age he is. "I can't imagine there's anything about you that would keep someone from caring about you, Lys." "What happened as you got older? You got better at staying detached or just fewer interesting people the more that baggage piles up?" Lys wonders as she reaches for her mug, this time to draw it in and up to her lips to blow on it a little. Over the top of it, she gives him a measuring look. She places the mug to her lower lip but speaks instead of sipping. "I'm the wrong shade of grey. Not white enough to be one of the good guys and not black enough to be one of the bad. Happily situated in the middle." It's a melancholy admission, but she doesn't seem like being the wrong shade of grey has prompted her to try to change her ways one way or another; perhaps it's a little admirable that in spite of the desires of the world around her, even those she loves, she's staying true to herself. Maybe it's just that she's lazy. "I'm... not entirely sure. I was never as interested in certain activities as other boys, and that hasn't really changed very much. They're not thoughts that cross my mind very often. Not until someone like you asks me about it, truthfully. Or someone insists on... certain aspects of my attention." D'vro is clearly struggling with putting the way his brain works into words. "I believe most people fall somewhere in the grey." The delicacy of his phrasing has Lys hiding a smile behind the mug after her sip, but her eyes give it away too clearly. "There's nothing wrong with grey, unless you're too white or too black to be happy with something that's in between." She addresses that point first before leaning forward to place her mug on the table, though her hands come with it and she leans forward still, so she's just a little inclined toward the bronzerider. "Is it a terrible imposition to you when someone insists on certain aspects of your attention?" The rest seems to have been accepted easily enough, but there's an edge of mischief and teasing to her tone of curiosity in asking about this last. "I suppose so." But those sorts of relationship dynamics don't generally come up too strongly within a professional setting. Or maybe just not in D'vro's professional setting. "Not generally terrible, no. I'll admit I sometimes have a hard time maintaining interest when I know there's work that needs to be finished." Or if not needs to be, then work he'd rather be doing. "There are plenty of people who require very little insistence, if any." So he's probably not sure why anyone would ever insist on his attention in particular. D'vro's words about maintaining interest prompt a laugh from Lys and she elects to sweep up her tea and lean back again. "There are, particularly in Weyrs. I imagine some might like the challenge, or might be hunting for the moment of surrender and full of fantasies of what that surrender would mean. Surely, surely, if they can just win you over, you'll magically become this ardent lover with a deep passion and inspired romance." The sarcasm is heavy, but Lys seems deeply amused by the notion. She takes another sip of her tea and then gives a glance toward D'vro's desk. "Would you like to get back to your work? I could sit and have tea while you do. I don't mind." It keeps her away from her weyr a while longer at any rate. That makes even D'vro snort a quick laugh. "Passion, on occasion, perhaps. Romance is, sadly, never something with which I've ever had a great deal of skill. Or any." The laugh is followed by a small frown, but the bronzerider takes a drink of his tea and glances in the direction of his desk. "I've a bit of time yet before I should go to bed." He must not be terribly swamped with things to do this evening. Lys lifts her tea in silent salute of the wingleader's decline to her offer, but seems neither especially pleased or displeased by it, so the offer must have been made in earnest. What she does say is, "Come now, D'vro," as if he were surely exaggerating (just as surely as she is), "I have every faith that you have the capacity to research romance and provide a suitable facsimile with the right motivation." Then she pauses, taking a little sip before allowing, "I have less faith that you have any interest in finding the right inspiration," given everything he's said, but the whole of the thing seems to amuse the greenrider. If nothing else, she's finding her visit entertaining. "Has Colsoth ever encouraged you to pursue inspiration of that ilk?" "You can't tell me that you would be content with researched romance over genuine romance, can you?" And since he assumes the answer is no before she's given one, he also certainly assumes any person would give the same sort of answer. D'vro lifts his tea slightly to her lack of faith in his inspiration for romance, answering, "Colsoth has encouraged me to pursue almost anything you can imagine at some point or another." "I might," Lys' answer isn't exactly the expected, but nor does it rule out the possibility. "I don't know for sure. Then again, I don't really think I'm like many people in a lot of ways. When one grows up with..." She trails off a moment and then shakes her head a little, "really no affection, and experiences that are either too much or too little to suit... I can't really say." For Colsoth, the greenrider has a soft, warm smile. "I can see why Evyth likes him." D'vro breaks another piece off of his biscuit to eat while he listens to the greenrider. It's another moment or two once he's washed down a swallow with another drink that he offers, "I think it's in our nature to believe that we're more isolated by our pasts and emotions than we really are. I've no doubt you're more like other people than you think you are." It's supposed to be comforting, maybe? "I don't mind," comes with a shrug and a sense that she likely means either way. "Generally, I'm finding that it's difficult to predict contentment. I should have been content with either of my-" there's a little stumble as she hastily inserts, "-former-," before, "partners, but I wasn't." It's a thoughtful moment later that she asks, "Do you feel isolated?" "I did when I was younger, to some extent. I don't now. I've worked with enough people to be more aware of how different we all are, and how similar we all are." D'vro seems unsure if he should say what he says next, but then he goes and says it anyway. "Is contentment what you truly desire out of your partners?" "I'd rather not have growing discontent, but... I couldn't say. Not enough life experience to know what I want and don't. Well," Lys quickly amends her candid answer, "except children. I don't want any children." That is very firm indeed. "I suspect there's still a lot of time for me to figure out what I want, and the similarities and differences of us all." "I should hope so," D'vro says of time. "You're very young yet. But I know you," as in younger folk, not Lys specifically, "do have a way of thinking you're quite well-informed about the world. I still think I'm often more naive than I ought to be about it myself." He offers a slightly self-deprecating smile before lifting his mug to his lips again. Then, "What's your plan now?" "It's more fun to be well-informed about the world than to let yourself get treated as though you don't know enough to step out from under the fall of your betters' bootheels." Lys replies with a shrug, slouching a little more as she looks at him. "Don't really have one. Do I need one?" She tilts her head a bit, lifting her brows in inquiry. "Do you always have one?" It might be an extension of curiosity about his supposed naivety. "I didn't suggest that you let people walk all over you, now did I?" D'vro must think this distinction is important. "I may not be a ruthless bastard who takes advantage of other people to get ahead, but I think I've done fairly well for myself. Colsoth isn't ashamed to be seen in public with me just yet." As for plans, D'vro says somewhat more seriously, "Not always, no. But I sometimes feel as though I've hit the peak of my life. That I have to hope it stays at a plateau for some time before it falls down the other side." Jokes and metaphors. It's almost like D'vro isn't a robot. The greenrider rewards the joke and metaphor with a smile before addressing the first, allowing, "I suppose there's shades of grey between the two," with more veiled amusement. "Yet," is a word that she catches on and gives him a challenging look. Yet. So many questions are there - what would it take? How close has he come? And on and on, but she asks none of them. Instead, "You don't really think so, not really." She narrows her eyes with suspicion. "You can't be so old as all that." Even if Lys is only as old (maybe) as Colsoth. D'vro only has a small smile for yet. Would he really care if Colsoth were ashamed to be seen in public with him? So long as he doesn't start using dad puns, the pair are probably safe from that. "I'm nearly forty. In another few turns. But I've achieved everything I could have possibly wanted out of life and more. Now I'm simply doing what I do to the best of my abilities." "How old is 'nearly'?" Lys apparently is unsatisfied with generalities. Evidently that's not the only thing she's unsatisfied with. It's an abrupt change from her repose that brings her up onto her feet and moving toward the hearth to stand and stare down at the flames, brow puckered. "Sounds boring," holds agitation but with her back to the bronzerider, it's difficult to say what her expression is, "having nothing to work for." "Thirty seven." D'vro watches the greenrider as she rises, concern briefly furrowing his brows. For now he finishes the rest of the biscuit. "I'm not sure boring is the word I'd use for it. I enjoy my wing, my riders. And N'rov is a good Weyrleader. He's the reason I'm here." He considers for a moment, then adds, "I work for my wing. It's the lack of working toward something that can be dissatisfying at times." "Why don't you pick something new?" Lys pivots to face him, expression challenging, though her arms wrap around her chest, hands hugging opposite elbows in a gesture of self-protection or perhaps discomfort. "A new something to work toward." "What would you suggest that I do, Lys?" It's a genuine question. Sarcasm isn't exactly one of D'vro's strong suits. The bronzerider rises, moving closer with tea in hand, but not so close that he's likely to infringe on her personal space. Or his. "I don't know!" The tone is uneasy and just a little too loud. Obviously this has touched something a little deeper in the greenrider. Lys' hands toss up in the air, helplessly, with her words. "Having nothing to work toward feels too much like just existing, like waiting, contentedly, to die, at 37!" There's a little laughter, hysterical laughter, and she turns away, hands coming up to rub over her face. That catches D'vro somewhat off guard. He takes a step back, to make sure it's not because he unintentionally stepped into the greenrider's space, then turns to head toward the couch. He's almost ready to sit when he says, "Perhaps wine would be better?" It's some moments before Lys has scraped together enough composure to face the man whose time she's taking up. When she turns back to him, she's still visibly shaken by... Well, whatever that was. "Sorry," is sort of a mumble, but some of the anxious energy has left her. "Not my place to-" She stops, then starts, but questioningly, "I should go?" D'vro's looking at her when she turns back to him, genuine concern for the young woman in his expression. "I don't mind. You're probably right that I've become too content with where I am in my life. But, if it helps, I don't feel as though I'm simply waiting to die." He looks down at his mug, then up at her, again, "You can go if that's what you'd like to do." "As long as I don't have to find out that you died alone and for stupid reasons, I guess you can be as complacent as you want." Lys bites her lower lip, worrying it briefly before she apologizes, " Sorry, that was bitchy. I try not to be anymore, but..." Sometimes she doesn't manage. "Do you want wine?" The bronzerider frowns at his young acquaintance's words, almost certainly not understanding their origin or why she might assume as much of his end. "You're welcome to be as bitchy as you like, Lys. Far be it from me to judge how you communicate. Especially about something that appears to be important to you. But," always a but, "I'm curious what ways of dying you consider to be not stupid." Then, "I have wine, if you'd like a glass. I wouldn't be opposed to one myself." Lys sets her upper teeth on her lower lip and hesitates. "Wine first, then explanation," she decides, moving toward the couch to settle herself while he gets the asking price for her tale, whatever it may be. D'vro nods. That must sound reasonable enough to him. "I hope you don't mind a dry red." He might not have much else but that. Once he's found a bottle and poured a glass for each of them, he gestures at the opposite end of the couch and the glass he puts on the small table in front of it while he settles on the other end with his. "I don't really drink for the flavor," Lys replies, shrugging. "Finery is wasted on me, so..." Hopefully he won't want her to notice a fine vintage, if it is. The wine is accepted without ceremony, requiring a little resituating of herself to be in a comfortable pose to drink it. She drains half the glass in her first few swallows, licking her lips and letting it settle a moment before offering a start. "I suppose dying with purpose would be not stupid. Dying of old age because you've lived a full and varied life is reasonable enough. I can't say I'd have liked riding to meet Thread if I'd been born in a different time and found Evyth all the same, but defending others seems like a good way to go." It's not a bad vintage. It's doubtful that D'vro has anything else in the weyr, truthfully. He's more deliberate about the way he drinks his wine, but there's nothing judgmental about the way he watches her drink hers. "I sometimes wish Colsoth and I could have flown Thread. It's something I imagine we're both suited for." There's a frown before he continues, "Whose definition of full and varied should that be following?" "I can see it," Lys' head nods a little before she takes a more measured sip. "I suppose everyone has their own definition. Your doesn't seem very varied, but I'll give it full, but my measure of it doesn't make much difference. I'm young enough to not be as well-informed about the world as I like to pretend, after all," her look briefly flickers into humor, but it fades quickly to something more sober, sadly sober. "I detect sarcasm," offers D'vro. "I don't know how I would make my life more varied. Or if I would enjoy doing so. I enjoy my work. I miss Southern at times, but I don't suppose you're suggesting I return to the comfort of home to make my life more varied, are you." He takes another drink, crossing one of his legs over the other, his version of relaxing. "I don't desire a family. Or romantic relationships. I don't see where resigning from my wing would help anything." But he's certainly willing to go on little thought experiments of his own. "Clever man," Lys replies darkly, but there's another spark of humor in her eyes. The rest is taken in with some thought. "What are you very, very bad at?" It's not idle curiosity. "Things you wouldn't mind being better at but have never made a priority." That's a question that gives D'vro some pause. "I don't know if I've ever thought about that. I'm not sure there are any things I'm very bad at that I'd want to be more of a priority. What are you bad at?" An example might help him. Lys makes a face at him, but then rolls her eyes toward the ceiling, probably so she can think. (How dare he turn the question back on her.) "I'm bad at a lot of things. Probably a lot more than you because you've been alive longer and had more time to work on the obvious things like being myself, like being nice to people even when they don't really deserve it. Other deep shit like that." She finishes her wine. "I guess I was thinking more along the lines of something like... Oh, I don't know, dancing. Or maybe building sand holds. Or... Embroidery." Then she eyes D'vro, "I would say not the lattermost for you, but you'd probably enjoy it. It's detail work." "I do enjoy working on Colsoth's straps," he admits, since it's probably the closest to anything like embroidery that he gets to on a regular basis. "There are plenty of things I'm bad at. I just... don't care that I'm bad at them because I don't have any desire to be good at them. I'm quite skilled at the things I want to skilled at." There's a pause, then he decides, "My handwriting could probably be improved." "Maybe start with straps," Lys says, apparently deeming the suggestion of his handwriting as too close to actual work. "You could look into learning how to work with the leather, to make other things. For Colsoth. For you. Tanners do make some interesting things. Journals. Stamped belts. Pouches." She looks a little like she's searching her memory. "They do at that," make interesting things. D'vro considers it for a few silent moments, taking a drink of his wine. "Perhaps I'll go to the Hall and see what they're willing to teach an old rider. Or I could see if someone would come here and teach the wing something new." Always working. "Do you never just think about you?" Lys wonders, "Is it always, 'the wing the wing the wing'?" The blonde looks at her empty glass and then at D'vro at the other end of the couch. Then she's moving to rise, to walk her glass over to the table and set it down, though her eyes linger on it for some moments. This, again, makes D'vro think in a way he wasn't quite prepared. But he has to answer, "Not very often, no. My duty is to my wing, to my Weyr, to my dragon. That is me." "Alright," is accepting. The greenrider turns around to look back at the older man, her expression lacking judgment. "Maybe that's what your other partners have been looking for. The you that is just you. That's why they insist on intimacies, because they hope they'll discover something that isn't there because they can't imagine a world where it isn't." Then Lys' smile turns wry, "Unimaginative, if you ask me. Probably crap in bed." "Perhaps," D'vro allows, watching the greenrider. "You can have more," he says before her last comment really processes. "Me? Or them?" Clarification is necessary. There's laughter that seems to lift the greenrider's mood, her head tossing back and leaving her smiling at the bronzerider. "Hm, well, I meant them, but you know, it's been so long that I've probably forgotten the proof that I didn't mean you after all." There's something teasing in that remark, but her attention goes to the wine and her empty glass. She doesn't make a move yet, though, to fill it. "I wouldn't be surprised if you meant me, but I suppose no one likes the idea that they've been terribly disappointing in that regard. Never mind the circumstances." In which they were both heavily influenced by their lifemates. "I don't know if I'd say any were particularly unpleasant. In bed, anyway." It's a strange subject for D'vro to be lingering on. "Even so, I doubt you'd be disappointed if I had meant you. It's not like you're one of those men just looking for the invitation to refresh my memory." Lys observes as she finally makes move to collect the wine and refresh her cup, but only a half this time. She plucks up the glass and turns, leaning against the edge of the table and looking toward him. "I'm glad none of your sexual exploits have been particularly unpleasant." That's dry humor as her eyes drift around the room again and then toward the ledge and finally back to the man. D'vro finishes the rest of his wine, rising with his glass in hand and moving toward where Lys has just refilled her own. "You're right. I wouldn't be looking for the opportunity to prove myself even if that's what you thought of me." Just in case she needs to hear him say it, too. He has a small laugh for the rest as he pours himself another serving. "I do hope yours have been similarly not unpleasant. Especially if you enjoy them more than I do." The smile Lys has for the bronzerider is small, it's soft. She steps closer and leans up on her tiptoes, angling to brush a kiss to D'vro's cheek. "I'm glad you're you, D'vro." It's said quietly, but sincerely, and then she's leaning back, drinking her wine. "I've been fortunate. Good experiences, mostly. Some weird ones, but not bad." He doesn't move away from the gesture. He'll even lean slightly toward her to make his cheek more accessible if necessary. "I'm glad you're you, too, Lys," is returned even if he's not entirely sure what she means by it. "Good. That's good to hear. I hope it stays that way." "If I'm lucky, maybe. Mostly life seems to be a mix of good and bad though, so..." Lys smiles, polishing off the last of what's in her glass. "Probably worth it to find the good, I guess." She glances toward the ledge again and then sets the glass down. "I should get back. Thank you. For the tea, the wine and the company, D'vro." Even though D'vro frowns at the bad, he doesn't question her more about what all that actually entails beyond what she's told him. "The good in life is usually worth the trouble of finding it, yes." For as uninteresting as his life is now, at least to people who aren't him, he sounds like he knows that from experience. "Any time you need it." Within reason, anyway. "It's nice to have you, Lys." "Thank you," comes with a smile that shows dimples before Lys is heading for the ledge. Evidently, D'vro will have to return the box the biscuits were sent up in because Lys is on her way home. |
Leave A Comment