Logs:A Friend-ly Run-In
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| RL Date: 21 February, 2015 |
| Who: Lycinea, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: After running into H'vier before the gold flight, she actually runs into Z'riah once it's begun. Her experiences only get more horrifying. |
| Where: Tunnels, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 1, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult themes! Back-dated. If anyone else wants to run into flight-affected Lya, feel free to ping me and we'll back-scene! |
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| She's not looking where she's going as her bare feet pound the rock. She just needs to get out, away, it's too hot and there's not enough air. The bowl is closest, and it's through those tunnels she weaves. She might've been fine (minus the missing toes she'd suffer from going out barefoot in the snow), except for the way she runs, bodily, into Z'riah. "Hey," starts out annoyed, despite Z'riah reaching for shoulders in an attempt to steady his assailant. But then he realizes who it is and his next, "Hey," is a lot more friendly. Pleased, even. He's in a good mood. "You okay, there?" Lya's eyes are practically wild with fear as they turn up to Z'riah's face. He probably knows that look from the herdbeasts that see Yizibeth coming when she's hungry. "No?" is uncertain, meek even, then more surely, "No, no. No no no." And she's wrapping her arms around his waist and clinging to him. "It's hot, Zif. And I'm so-- so--!" She doesn't even have the words for it. What is she exactly? Z'riah is glancing down the direction she'd come when she looks up at him, but his gaze falls on her a moment later. It's sort of hard not to draw his attention when someone is clinging to him, though. "Horny?" he suggests without judgment. He can relate, really. He doesn't even need a flight for that. But it's not exactly helping at all. "That's normal, you know. It's okay." "No!" Lya first tries to deny the word, piteously. Then, with more success, "No," to the normality of it. "It's not normal, at all!" Not for her. And she clings all the tighter, slender form pressed against his. "Make it stop," she whimpers. "Uh," says Z'riah, quite brilliantly, to the whimpering. "That's probably not a good idea." The idea of him making it stop, specifically, though the clinging probably isn't the best idea, either. "It'll stop, I promise. But you should probably not be wandering around wearing... that." And if she's going to be all pressed against him, she might start feeling why, though he tries to angle his hips away from her. "Whhhhhhy," Lya whines, "I just want it to go away as she continues to cling. Then she freezes. "Z'riah!" It's accusation, hurt, anger, frustration as she abruptly pushes away from him. The Horror. He doesn't try to keep her close. In fact, Z'riah lifts up his hands away from her as though to assure her he's not trying to do anything. "I'm sorry! I can't help it, Lya. It's not-- it doesn't mean anything!" There are tears in Lya's eyes. She's having such a bad day. "First being so stupidly hot, then kissing H'vier, now this." She can't even. And without another word she's pushing past him, to run off the way she was going. Maybe she'll realize what a bad idea it is when her toes hit snow. Z'riah would react to her kissing that asshole, but he doesn't get much of a chance. And he doesn't really know what to say as she takes off, but he trails after her. Just to make sure no one else decides to take advantage of his friend before she can disappear somewhere. Depending on how closely he follows her, Z'riah might find himself victim to a repeat of the initial meeting, as Lya dances back away from the cold chanting, "Cold, cold, cold!" One hand reaching toward the wall (or the greenrider if he's handier) as the foot that made contact with the fresh-fallen snow comes up and she brushes the snow away with the opposite hand. "Where are my sharding shoes?!" She demands of no one. It's not like Z'riah minds being touched, or run into, by the blonde. He also doesn't seem to be too worried about her getting upset with him for following her. He's being a good friend! "Where are all of your clothes?" Not just her shoes. "The stores?" Lycinea answers uncertainly. "I think? I was just so hot in everything I was wearing, so I found these in the summer clothes," she looks back the way they'd come, and then removes her hand from his chest with a jerk before starting back that way, looking a little lost and still frustrated and flushed. The greenrider only watches after her for a few moments before he's following in her wake again like a little lost guard puppy who doesn't really know what else to do with himself. Z'riah doesn't try to keep conversation going. There's only one job to do here! Get Lya dressed and somewhere safe-ish. It won't be that long before the gold is caught and a horde of horny losers is unleashed on the Weyr. She'll thank him later. Okay, probably not. But he'll feel better about it. Lya probably doesn't realize she's being followed until she's picked up her belongings (though notably not put any of them on except her boots, and those not even tied), and is turning to exit the stores again. Z'riah gets a confused and unhappy look, "What are you doing here?" She sounds less than thrilled, but that's probably not his fault. Z'riah has the grace to look sheepish, perhaps a mild throwback to his own proddy tendencies, but he's quick enough to say, "I don't want anyone to mess with you. Unless you want them to, I guess." But he seems doubtful that this is going to be the case. "Ugh," Lya answers. "Why would anyone want to mess with me?" She demands it but doesn't wait for an answer, making a gesture that encompasses the whole of her, "I'm just-- me," she explains with a frustrated exhale. The words suggest that no one would be interested in her anyway, even if she were interested in anyone, despite the physical evidence that might have earlier suggested that weren't the case. "I'll be fine, Zif, you can go-- I donno. Find some guy or something." Whatever he wants. She makes a dismissive gesture, meaning to free him of all friendshiply responsibility. It's familiar from the times he's said he'll 'be right back' at gathers they've attended together. "Why wouldn't anyone want to mess with you? You're beautiful-- I mean, your attitude leaves a little to be desired." But Z'riah is also sort of teasing because he's not really sure how to deal with this moment. "Sure, I'll go." He doesn't yet. But he will. "Go, go. Find somewhere to weather the storm." He even waves her off. Well, teasing is just going to get him shoved. Like H'vier before him. "You are full of shit," Lya tells him without any consideration that he might not be. It's probably not good that she's backing him against the very same arch that got her in trouble before and the ferociousness of before is coming back with a renewed heat marked by new sweat starting to bead on her brow. "And you don't get to boss me around," another, littler shove that might press him into the stone if he doesn't stop it. The unfortunate thing here is that Z'riah likes getting pushed around by people who seem upset with him. He tilts his head back to look up before closing his eyes entirely, taking a steadying breath and swallowing before letting it back out. "Okay. I'm sorry," is all he says, passive in the sort of way that will hopefully encourage her to move along before Niahvth is caught. "Good! You should be," Lya scolds him (surely helping, right?). "Can't you see I'm having a terrible day? You're supposed to be my friend, Zif." She complains, whines even. "I am your friend," is his answer. Z'riah doesn't look at her, though. His eyes stay closed and he doesn't move except to conveniently clasp his hands over his groin. No reason. "I hope the rest of your day is better." "Ugh," it's not a swear, but the sound sounds like one when it leaves her. "It had better be." Lya threatens the day with fervor and fury. By the time Z'riah opens his eyes, she's stalking off down the tunnel. Maybe she'll put on pants over those short shorts at some point. Maybe. |
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