Logs:Dressy Surprise
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| RL Date: 31 January, 2016 |
| Who: Jocelyn, Lys |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lys surprises her girlfriend(?), Jocelyn, and gets a surprise in return. There's some Not Good and some Good leading to some Very Good. |
| Where: Jocelyn's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 12, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Quint/Mentions, R'hin/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Relationship squish. Backdated. |
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| In the world of dragonriders, it takes three minds to surprise one. Lys was, naturally, the architect of the plan. Evyth's part was to gain Aidavanth's cooperation. That Lys had a (she thought) pleasant surprise for the goldrider two days after the party, and would Aidavanth please see that Jocelyn came home after dinner was a fairly straightforward message to communicate to her clutchsister. It was, of course, thusly a dinner that Lys did not attend. She doesn't sometimes. Though never has she, instead, been in Jocelyn's weyr getting gussied up just for her. Standing within the inner room, Lys is something of a vision with her hair elegantly done up, her dress from the party refreshed, and those same gauzy stockings. She even wears a simple choker of seashells and braided fiber and has gone to the trouble of making her face up again prettily. She's relaxed in her waiting, though there is an edge of excitement, one that livens the color in her cheeks when she hears footfalls in the room without. Having spent most of the afternoon at High Reaches Hold, Jocelyn doesn't bother to put in an appearance at dinner after the gather. Aidavanth, true to her word, does ensure that they return to the weyr on time, even if her rider's arrival comes some time after she, herself, lands on her ledge. The steps that click their way through the outer weyr are clearly in shoes made more for ornamentation than practical use, and there's a rustle of cloth as the redhead pushes past the second curtain with one hand, undoing the clasp of her cloak with the other. She's still in her heavy dress of High Reaches blue, hair still pinned up into an austere twist and face, lightly accentuated with touches of cosmetics. Weary though her expression is when she first heads into her bedchamber, it's quick to fade, first to astonishment, then to something warm and pleased. "Lovely Lys, " she breathes, then, smiling. "Whatever did I do to deserve such a sight?" "Living? Breathing? Right time right place?" Lys suggests with a delighted smile of her own. "I didn't know I'd be seeing you like this," and clearly it's a pleasant surprise for her, too, even if her eyes linger on that austere twist in her hair a little longer than might indicate appreciation. The greenrider can fix that though, crossing to the goldrider and letting her fingers first brush Jocelyn's cheek as she leans in to kiss her, using the kiss to distract from the fact that that hand is moving on to free the redhead's pretty locks from their pinned prison. "You didn't know, " Jocelyn begins, equally delighted, but allows 'neither did I' to go unsaid in lieu of more important matters at hand - namely, returning Lys's kiss thoroughly while a hand presses to the greenrider's back, holding her close. She isn't completely unaware of what's happening with her hair, however, not when she draws back after a moment with a relieved murmur. "I could have done that, you know. But thank you." Dryly, "I wish I could have gotten away without putting it up, of course, " especially when the pins leave residual soreness behind, says the wince that follows. "Well, yes, but mine was a surprise," on purpose. Lys beams at Jocelyn before her expression slips toward playful. "Could have, but hadn't already. It's better this way," she's firm, playing now with the hair as it comes down, fluffing it a little, settling it just so. That's before Lys' second hand moves to join the first, fingers thrust fully into the locks to gently massage where those pins have pinched. "Did you have a good time?" She asks, eyes still drinking in the look of this Jocelyn, all glammed up. "Better this way, because you get to take it down?" Jocelyn guesses, lips parting on a sigh as those hands soothe away some of the sting of hairpins worn for one hour too many. "It was - mostly the usual, " she answers. "I figured I should practice putting in an appearance somewhere that wasn't Nabol, " and she managed all of it without consulting Farideh for advice, this time. "We gave Journeyman Quint a ride to the hold, although that was mostly Aidavanth's idea since he happened upon us right before we left." Much in the same tone as one would say, 'I wonder if he's feeling ill': "He was - surprisingly tolerable. Unsurprisingly a good dancer. I imagine most harpers are." Still, there's a wistful cast to her expression as she finishes relating her afternoon to the lady she adores. "I'm sure I'd have had a far more pleasant time if I could have taken you with me. It would have made being trapped in all of this more bearable." Why yes, that's a longing look toward the robe hanging just inside of her bathing room. "Better this way because I get to take it down," Lys allows, but adds, "and because I'd have done it differently. You hide your beauty whenever you can and I don't approve." But it's gentle, teasing disapproval. "I've not met him yet, but I heard him mentioned I think, as one of the harpers that helped sort out the matter of R'hin's-- death," she doesn't say murder, but there's a pause where she might've. "I'm glad you had a good dancer for company and that he was tolerable," the greenrider has a smile for her lover, though she does go on, "You know, it's not unheard of for women to have female escorts to these things. A chaperone rather than a date. It does mean you're more likely to have to dance with more strangers, of course, but it is allowed for us to go to gathers together," there isn't a push for it though, simply a gentle reminder in case Jocelyn ever feels up for taking the chance. "Trapped," is repeated with some amusement. "Then I guess I get to be your hero because I won't let you stay in it a moment longer than necessary." Although what's necessary appears to be Lys taking a pair of steps back so she can look at Jocelyn, and bounce on her toes just a little for the spectacle of her. "Alright," now she's seen her fill and she'll find the laces to start Mission: Free Jocelyn! Jocelyn's cheeks color faintly. "You're one of the few people who probably see it that way, " she says gruffly, but her attempt to hide her embarrassment is a poor one indeed. "I don't want a chaperone, " she grouses while moving to hang up her cloak. "I want to share the experience with you and enjoy watching your smiles as anyone who's proud to be with you would. Perhaps the next time there's a gather down south, you'd do me the honor?" She's clearly willing to give it a go, this idea of being seen together in public sometime. For now, though, she circles to give Lys the full effect of those skirts, expression amused. "I appreciate the saving, hero-Lys." The lacing starts below her shoulders and goes down to the small of her back - difficult indeed for the wearer to manage alone. "That's because I'm one of the only people who gets to see you," Lys replies, practically, though her smile still holds humor and a gentle acceptance of the redhead's embarrassment. She works diligently at the laces with the practiced hands of one who's used to dressing and undressing others, though this time there's less professionalism to that, her hands straying now and again as she eases the laces enough to help Jocelyn step out of the dress. "And here," she muses as she works, "I thought I was getting all dressed up just so you could have the pleasure of undressing me." The turnabout amuses her but she seems in no way put out by the way things have gone. She'll even readily, carefully manage the dress so it doesn't get an abundance of wrinkles, even moving to hang it back where it belongs, having long since familiarized herself with how Jocelyn likes her things kept. "You are, " Jocelyn agrees quietly, falling otherwise silent while the laces loosen enough for her to finally get free of that heavy fabric. Left only in a chemise that falls to mid-thigh, she watches Lys's motions at her armoire, more to drink in the sight of the pretty greenrider than out of concern for her own gown. "Now that I can breathe again, " she says wryly once the other's finished, eyes blue and expression full of promise, "I think you should come here so I can take a much better look at you and this dress that made my mouth go dry two evenings ago." Far be it from her to forestall a pleasure of Lys's any longer. The blonde is laughing at that wryness. "Beauty is pain," Lys intones as if she's been told it one time or another by some severe source. "And a lack of air, in this case," she adds, not letting her jests stop her from moving into the goldrider's arms. "I'll look forward to going south with you," she murmurs. "I'm always sorry, Joce, when you have to be denied experiences others get to have with so little consequence. I want to tell you it'll get easier, but this might be as good as it gets for a while," this second-chance do-over business. "I imagine, for what it's worth, that you'll enjoy our party much more than the other one," she teases gently with a wide smile before the smile is vanishing so she can kiss her lover properly. Disagreeably, on beauty being painful: "It shouldn't be." That the goldrider is certain of. "You, for example, are perfectly lovely with no effort whatsoever. Surely there's no pain involved there." Impossible, says her expression as she reaches to gently trail fingers over Lys's hair, down her cheek, across her waist. "Then we'll go when a good opportunity arises, " Jocelyn decides, expression shading wistful before she summons a curve to her mouth. "But here, now ... " Yes, she'll enjoy their party far more than the actual one attended. Returning the other's kiss in a manner that quickly grows from tender to one with intent, she devotes her focus to nothing but making it quite clear just how much she appreciates the dress, the effort, and Lys herself with earnest touches. Somewhere in there, her fingers work to try to discover the mechanism that holds that outfit together. "This took quite a lot of effort, thank you," Lys teases the goldrider. "An effort I went to just for you this time." Not a whole room full of partygoers. It's easier, it must be easier, for Lys (who is no more comfortable with these sorts of compliments than Jocelyn is), to simply deflect rather than linger on what the goldrider's claiming of her. It's even easier to let go into that kiss, she can even have the presence of mind while kissing to guide Jocelyn's searching fingers to the laces of her own dress, a single one done tightly down the side that should loosen the dress enough for Lys to wiggle out of it when the moment comes, laughing. "I missed you," even if they only just saw each other. They're still in that phase of things, clearly. It's a good phase. A phase without impossible decisions, as it happens. Jocelyn has a loving smile for Lys once she (reluctantly!) tapers the kiss so that she can better help her out of the pretty fabric, catching it before it quite hits the floor so that it can await its wearer hanging neatly out of the way. "I always miss you, " she admits once she's back at the blonde's side, expression open and here, for this lady, easy enough to read. "Somehow, the day feels less trying when you're part of it. It's good, " a warm kiss to her jaw, "to have you and Evyth in my life, " another just below an ear. "Our lives." She draws back then, only to feather a touch over Lys's hip that's as much question as want with a glittering look. Likewise, "Let me love you, " is equal parts entreaty and request. "Don't I already?" Lys asks, bemused by the entreaty-and-request, though something exists in that look, too, that doesn't treat the words so lightly. "I like being a part of your day, even when it's not this way." Of course, it goes without saying that the blonde likes this way quite a lot, too. "Bed?" She wonders, slipping her hands down to find Jocelyn as if she might draw her that way, if that's her want. "You wouldn't want me around all the time anyway. You like the mask you show everyone else, and my being with you would only make it harder to maintain. I doubt you'd like to show everyone you have a loving heart, or that you can smile and laugh for that matter." She's teasing again, affectionately. "I don't know what Evy would do without Aidavanth." She stops there, as if there might be more, but it's more that she doesn't say now, if in fact there's any at all. "Bed, " Jocelyn agrees, low, and lets herself be so drawn to the tidy, plain pillows and blankets. She listens while turning down the covers, settling there after and encouraging Lys to follow with a gentle tug. It's some minutes before she replies, pale gaze serious in the wake of the other's tease. "I wonder, sometimes, if I couldn't engender more trust if they did see that I'm - just like them. How can they trust that I'll ultimately look out for their well-being as much as the well-being of a weyr at large if they don't see any reason that I would?" While she's musing aloud, although in a manner that suggests she's been turning it over for some time, a hand lifts to cup Lys's cheek, lingering there for a long moment after she speaks of their lifemates. There's a little sigh, and then she's leaning to seek another kiss. There's rarely a rejected kiss and never without a good reason; Lys has no reason now. She even moves as they kiss to lower them down onto the bed, to lay back with Jocelyn atop her. When she has use of her lips for speech again, she muses. "I wouldn't say you're just like them, Joce. I'm not saying that seeing more overlap mightn't be good, but you should pick and choose what you share. Information-" Lys slows to contemplate, "It has a way of taking on a life of its own, once it leaves your control. Sharing information is risk and reward, in the end," or so the greenrider seems to think. "It seems like most goldriders," Farideh a clear exception, "that I know much about tend to be free with their sex lives. Bed many rather than place public importance on one. It's a form of protection," and that has her thinking, deeply, distractedly. Somewhere between maneuvering over Lys and drawing back once she begins thinking out loud, too, Jocelyn sheds her chemise with an aimless toss, settling her weight onto her elbows while she considers the other's words. "That isn't how I wish to be, " she says at length, shaking her head. "I've hardly been - receptive to others previously; why should that change simply because I was chosen by a queen rather than any other dragon? I would question someone who went from snubbing suitors to being obviously encouraging with all and sundry. I've never seen any value in aspiring to have that many people know me like - like this." More drily, "Not that that many would, I suppose. Not genuinely. You might see protection in such behavior, but I don't. I'd rather see clear signs of commitment in a weyrleader, in all areas. To me, it means that they aren't afraid to think about things on a long-term timeline." "I wasn't suggesting it's how you should be," Lys comes back from whatever faraway place her mind had taken her to listen and respond so, her tone matter-of-fact. "Some of us are afraid. To think of things on a long-term timeline," she adds after a moment, quietly, blue-green gaze searching Jocelyn's face. "The more you talk, the more it seems like you'd be happier with someone on your arm who you could own to." It's almost hesitatingly that she reaches up to futilely tuck locks behind her ear only to have them escaping again in the next moment. This might be the sort of talk that qualifies as the opposite of hot, even if it might be called heavy in a totally different way than might be desired just now. The search of Lys's gaze successfully diverts Jocelyn's attention from her spiel on her opinion of righteous behavior, and the redhead's features soften from their resolute set. "I didn't mean - " she begins, pauses, tries again. "I don't want you to feel afraid, " but perhaps that doesn't sound quite right, either. So she swears, and instead moves to briefly bury her face in the curve between the other's neck and shoulder, exhale heavy. "Would I be proud to say that we're - important to each other? Of course. And if there comes a day where it's okay for me to say that - where it would make us both happy to say that - I'd be pleased and happy to do so. But Lys, " her gaze is earnest, "don't think for a moment that I regret this closeness we've grown to share, or that I'd wish for something different. Right now, I'm humbled that you and your loving heart love me, and there's no one else I'd rather have here with me." "Girlfriend," Lys says softly. "That's the word." Still, that seems to be all she's going to say just now, her eyes drifting to the ceiling, expression almost the faraway of speaking with dragons, only by now Joce must be familiar enough with the subtle differences to know this is not that; this is some retreat into herself. Jocelyn looks very much as if she'd like to swear again once Lys retreats, but instead presses her lips together before carefully rearranging herself so that she's lying next to her lover, rather than leaning over her. The nearest piece of sheet is eyed from her vantage point, then surreptitiously tugged up to drape at her midriff. Her silence is patient enough, even if the expression she aims at the ceiling is a chagrined wince. "I don't know how to be everything to everyone," Lys murmurs after a moment, unconcerned with her own state of undress for the moment. She draws a deep breath in, holds it a moment and then lets it slide back out, controlled. She rolls onto her side, "I'm sorry. I'm ruining your surprise with my-- me." She shakes her head, slipping a hand onto her stomach under that sheet. "Start over?" She murmurs the offer. "You don't have to, " Jocelyn says softly, "not when you already mean so much to at least a couple of someones. You're Evyth's everything, I'd imagine, " as she is Aidavanth's, "and that's ultimately the most important thing." At Lys's touch, the redhead turns willingly enough to curl her frame toward the other woman, gaze gentle. "You haven't ruined anything. Come here." Her arms lift, then, to slide about the greenrider, hands mapping out circles that are meant to be soothing, even if their paths tentatively carry them down to the small of her back, over her hips - and lower, if she'll let her. Of course she'll let her. Lys is pleased to find this more usual way of being with her lover, some relief (but also some disbelief) briefly in her expression for Jocelyn's reassurance of her lack of wrecking abilities. "Tell me what we'll do at our southern gather. What you'll most like to do." She requests of the goldrider as she settles into the goldrider's embrace and nestles her head against the redhead's shoulder. "I'd like to look at the stalls with you so that you can try on the beautiful things I try to envision on you. Dance with you, though not in a set that's too formal. Whatever would tickle your fancy." Jocelyn, never one for the more formal aspects of gathers, nevertheless seems pleased at the thought of getting dressed up with Lys for a far more pleasant experience than her recent, solo sojourns, voice lowering to a more intimate murmur as one hand comes up to stroke the other weyrling's hair while its mate remains pleasantly occupied elsewhere in its quest to elicit warm, sweet sensations. "So you fantasize of making me your doll," Lys teases, though she doesn't really sound in any way opposed. "And will you try things on in turn or is this strictly a one-way arrangement?" The blonde grins at her lover, shifting a little so she can place small kisses along Jocelyn's jawline even as her legs seek to tangle with hers. "I do like dancing, though I'm never going to be Goldrider Good," which isn't to say the standard Jocelyn is, but rather that which was expected of her in their Silver Threads lessons, a term the greenrider long ago coined to describe the disparity in expectations between their one-day ranks. "Hardly, " protests Jocelyn earnestly. "It's just that I - see things sometimes and imagine you would maybe like them. And that they would like you, too. I've little enjoyment for trying most things on, as you know, but I will try almost anything if it will enhance your happiness." It's a little muffled, at the end, as she tilts her head slightly to allow her lover better access for those kisses along her jaw, legs twining eagerly with hers. "Tell me what I can do that would make you happiest right now, " she encourages, bringing both hands up to curl at Lys's back. "Oh, yes, I'm sure that's it," Lys' tone is a sarcastic tease despite Jocelyn's earnest response, smiling in an infuriating way, but perhaps she can forestall whatever fury might be due her by the fact that she shifts a little and angles to capture Jocelyn's lips in a kiss that goes from soft to deep swiftly. Does Lys need words to tell Jocelyn what would make her happiest right now? Sex is way better than trying things on in gather stalls, at least right now. (Particularly since one of those things is not currently a convenient option.) And Jocelyn does make a frustrated noise deep in her throat, but channels it into fuel for meeting Lys's kiss heatedly - and for re-mapping all of those places she's learning so well with hands, fingers, touches that in these moments, are no longer tentative. Further talk of gathers will have to wait. |
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