Logs:Hitch-Hiking to Hurlsville
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| RL Date: 7 September, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, Telavi |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Tayte's following her instinct to run away after her fight with H'vier and talk with K'del. It's not well thought out. She runs into Telavi and asks for a ride. In the end, they go to Ista and get drunk. Telavi gets the whole story. It's a real life Harper's Serial. (Tela's secretly a little excited.) |
| Where: High Reaches Bowl and The Sandbar, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 9, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Ali/Mentions, Alida/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, K'zin/Mentions, Jeyli/Mentions, Jo/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Not angsty so much as girl-story-telling-that's-occasionally-whiny and such like. Back-dated and played via gdocs. |
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| Tayte's propensity for avoidance had every instinct in her body screaming to run away when the door slammed behind H'vier. But she's not a girl who can just vanish on a whimsy. She's a woman with a daughter and a job she cared about. It took time to make the arrangements, but telling K'del that she'd come back too soon and needed some more time, which was probably mostly the truth had him agreeing to single-parent Yvalia while she went off for a seven to try to get her head on straight. Getting the other bartenders to cover shifts was a matter of exchanging favors and marks enough to make it worth their while, but it was settled and she left a note for Anvori and apologizing. She'd only been on a few shifts and Anvori wasn't ignorant of the circumstances of her return, so hopefully he would understand. She'd packed before leaving her room, just a backpack suitable for hiking with some fresh clothes and marks to see her though. And, of course, a few bottles that could be bartered or consumed as needed. The next part of her plan she'd not thought out. Tayte couldn't ask Jo for a ride. That would get complicated quickly, even if Jo didn't mean to make it complicated for her. And she was probably busy anyway, or so she told herself. Not K'del or H'vier either. Jeyli would be too nosy, too. U'by maybe? Only he'd be too easy to intimidate into talking, if H'vier were the intimidator. Then again, he might never want to see her again. So, without a plan, she headed into the bowl to see what riders were about. As it happens, there are some Boreal riders just now departing the Snowasis, their rough cluster breaking apart as they head down from the patio ledge towards their separate dragons; one pair doesn't fly off as the others do, though, instead examining the forepaw that her green has curled back so she can see. Even Solith's paw is huge compared to Telavi, no resting it on her knee the way someone else might shoe a runner, but at least examining its pads is anything but a miniature operation. Tayte does not immediately recognize her chum in the limited light of the bowl, but there's a dragon pair that isn't immediately up and away, and coming out of Snowasis, no less. Definitely not on duty. "Hey!" She calls to the rider, drawing closer, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Oh, Tela," She sounds relieved. "Hi." Her eyes flick to the paw inspection. "Everything alright?" She queries innocently enough. Solith looks over, and a moment or two later so does Telavi, as though it's still necessary-- may always be necessary-- for Tela to check independently; she had been dealing with Solith's paw half by feel, though, so maybe that's something."Tayte! Just a pebble, I think I've almost got it." And since that shift where Tela had last seen Tayte had been so busy, "Are you settling back in all right? Did you... miss our scrumptious food?" said with tongue very much in cheek, while bright green-today eyes take Tayte in for a long, distracted-from-pebble-hunting moment. A pebble. This is good news. Tayte's expression betrays relief because there are too many other feelings more important to keep off of it in this moment. There's a smile for Solith anyway, warm and friendly. Though she's nervous, not because of Solith, but because, "Actually, I'm not. It's a long story, but I need to get out of here for a while. Do you think-- would you and Solith mind dropping me somewhere? If her paw's of course." She adds as she reaches to tug at hair that isn't there, isn't there because it's been brought up onto her head into a braid that crowns her head. At least she thought to exchange the gemmed comb for something wooden. She did, at least, think to change into more practical clothes, too. She looks dressed blend at any ol' tavern, simple brown traveler's trousers, the kind with enough pockets along their length to conceal a great many things, a loose fitting muted green tunic, and a brown leather jacket over top. Keen eyes might see the beltknife hanging at her waist. Good news for her. Good news for Solith? If Tela can get it out-- but first, brows drawing in from the concern that mostly stays out of her voice, "Trade you for the story, sure. Anywhere we know how to get to." Not that she's dressed the way Tayte is, everyday leathers with just the piping in blue to brighten them up, but she's quick to get back to work and her seamstress-fingers are nimble. Solith is continuing to regard Tayte, but surely Solith isn't a spy, and then... plink! goes the pebble, bouncing free to land who knows where, and the light-boned dragon breathes a fluttery sigh of relief. "It's--" Tayte starts and stops. "It's not the type of story that can get around." This is said flatly, with resolve. "And you might be in for more than you bargained for, chum." She notes the friendly warning. "Are you familiar with the mountains around Benden Hold? There's a lake nestled at the base of one of them." It might be a long shot, but she has to try. This whole thing hasn't been well thought out, down to that it's night and even later in Benden. She hears the plink and there's another smile for Solith. Tela tilts her head. "Fair," and there's even a gleam in her eyes that Solith, at least, can see: aren't those some of the best stories? Only then she tilts it a fraction more, counterbalanced by the way that, now that Solith's set down her paw, she can lean against her leg as unthinkingly as against a wall. "Some, not so much as a rider, but some. Timor's on our side. Can you sketch the route for me, even roughly?" All this practicality! "Or would you recognize it, if we started out from the Hold? I could ask Solith to ask a friend, one who's not from here," but the hesitation in her voice recognizes that that might seem too close to 'getting around.' Tayte hesitates, thinking. This is all getting too complicated. "Screw it." She says, though not in a way that suggests Tela's let her down, just that there's a simpler course to go: "Let's go to the Sandbar at Ista. I'm going to get shitfaced and have a good time. You're welcome to join me." At Ista, at least, she has something of a homefield advantage and she doesn't have to worry about keeping up a professional face like she would if they went to Vintner. The Istans will just think that partygirl Tah is back in action. "Done," agrees Tela, her voice a complicated mix of relief and disappointment, only then she dimples at Tayte and it transforms into more purely cheerful. "How about just a little stop by my ledge on the way. I'm not exactly dressed for Ista." Much less partygirling. Which seems to remind Tayte she set out on a different mission tonight. So they agree to meet back 'shortly' (whatever that means to girls getting gussied up). Before too long, The T-ladies are back in the bowl, exchanging the few unavoidable (and sincere) compliments on each others' wardrobe choices, and then with a quick, "Ready?" And a confirmation, they're mounting up, strapping in, and taking wing.
Standing on stilts over the water's edge with a broad ramp leading up from the beach, the thatch-roofed building sits well above the highest tide line. The walls of the structure are nothing but timber frames, open to the cooling sea breezes but equipped with hinged panels of woven grass that can be lowered during inclement weather. Within, supporting pillars are draped in cast-off nets and shells and myriad tables provide seating with spectacular panoramic views of the ocean, beach, and the bustling activity of the docks to the west. A finely polished, sparkling slab of obsidian serves as the bar and it's smooth surface is etched with decorative carvings of shipfish and flowers and other emblems of the tropical location. Shelves behind the bar are lined with bottles and glasses of various shapes and sizes and hanging in prominent view are slates listing the menu, beverages both alcoholic and not as well as a handful of greasy appetizers provided by the kitchen to the rear of the bar.
Tela spins a flighty dance-step circle on the way, sheer enjoyment of the evening and its warmth and the getaway, though when she settles into her seat she crosses her legs at the knee most decorously. She has little strappy sandals, no heel, coral-colored to match the trim on her halter dress; she has drinks set out before them; she has a chum and, possibly, a story still on the way. The smile Tayte receives is positively brilliant. "Do you drink these in any sort of order? Is it a journey to Hold Shitfaced? I suppose I should ask about the occasion before we get too far along." One thing can be said for the tray: it's colorful. There's two of everything, and the drinks come in all shapes and sizes. "I could explain something very technical about the palate and how following certain liquors with other liquors is most beneficial. But in the end, you're still drunk, and you still should've enjoyed getting there." Tayte manages a wry smile before she pulls three shots from the tray and downs them in quick succession, with barely a breath in between, letting out a lipsmack and an "Ahh," when she finishes the trio. Her own outfit is a sarong printed with large purple and yellow flowers on a creamy background, a red bikini barely visible where the cream material presses against the darker fabric. Her sandals are fashionable, but functional. The next drink is taken up and she offers a toast to answer Telavi's question: "Here is to H'vier, who in the same breath told me he'd fallen for me and called me a whore." Drink. Tela's leaning forward, curious... until that three-letter 'but,' at which point she only murmurs, "I'll have to ask you about those technicalities another time," and settles back with a quieter smile. She does take the first shot, but for now leaves the other two, and she's all set to return that toast except, "What?!" that isn't quiet at all. She isn't drinking; she's holding that glass as though she'd like to toss its contents in his face. Not as loudly but just as fiercely, her gaze all for the other woman, "The same H'vier who... Tayte. How awful!" And she doesn't even know the half of it. "The same H'vier," Tayte starts, not bothering to hush Tela's exclamation. As long as the name stays quiet hopefully no rumors will get back to the Istan born, bred, and Impressed H'vier. She continues, "Who I slept with the night of the goldflight, and who, as it happens knocked me up that night and whose child I miscarried four months into the pregnancy, and because of whom I can't have proper sex for sevens yet. So I can't even get drunk and get laid." How unfair is that? Her voice suggests it's an extreme injustice. She drinks more, having gotten all that out. It's the bare bones. "And I'm just-- so angry with him." This is Tayte's 'grr'-face. Then a sigh, "But, more, I'm confused. With Havi, it was supposed to be about sex. It was an emotional thing with K'del. And that's still crazy--" And then she realizes that Tela's not privy to all things Tayte, "Did I tell you what happened with K'del?" "What?!!" exclaims Telavi all over again, but at least H'vier's name still doesn't feature loudly. This is like realizing she's missed out on an installment, no, several installments of a harper's serial story. "That's awful," which is also pretty much what she'd said before, but there's new dismay in her voice for the egregiousness of it all. She'll drink to that. She does drink to that, red flags of color high on her cheeks, and K'del's name catches her right when the burn hits and she sputters. "No. No, I don't think so." Surely she would have remembered! "No," by which she means, "you didn't." "Ugh. K'del." Tayte has to drink again before she can tell. The keen eyes of the bartender even buzzed as they're starting to become doesn't miss the blush, but she doesn't comment or make any sign that she has. "I know I told you my daughter has a father. That's K'del. He adopted her. He was my first friend at 'Reaches and we became really good friends-- the best really. And he and Vali ended up-- just-- sort of besotted with one another. And she wanted a Dad and asked him, and then he wanted to be her dad, so how could I really say no?" Nevermind that 'no' is quite a simple word comprised of only two sounds, a nice nasal 'nnn' and a pucker-lipped 'o'. "Anyway, so we'd not been messing around because both of us were worried about our friendship and there never seemed to be a natural moment, always so much build up and flirtation and genuine caring and laughter, but always that moment you expect a kiss to come that never does. But then we did because what if it could be better if we were friends who shared a daughter and were kissing and so on. I wasn't looking for something that involved my heart, but because we were friends and, more than that, family, he did do things to my heart. I can't say what, just that things were somehow profound with him where with Jo it was-- well, I mean I like her, and she's my friend and all, but the connection just hasn't been there, in that way." Her drink is raised, this time not in toast, but to 'threaten', "I will find out every dirty secret you have and rip irreparable holes in your wardrobe if you ever tell anyone the things I'm confessing tonight." Got it? Her gaze is steady, though perhaps she isn't entirely serious. Telavi catches herself slack-jawed, winds up propping up that jaw with the rim of her glass, and yes, her lips happen to shape that 'no' right after Tayte poses the question. There winds up being blinking as the other woman continues, here and there, Tela wide-eyed and sometimes fighting off a laugh or a frown or just plain puzzlement, except for the end where that's just not inducing any happy confessions of anyone they might have had in common. Not only that, it sends her off onto a side question, "Wait, wait. Things like your being more into him than her, I get shushing about that, but things like his being her dad," different 'her,' "where people already know about it, they count as secrets too? Or, do people know? I remember your saying someone was, but is this like signing contracts in blood at midnight?" When she's twelve? Not that Tela needs to admit to anything remotely resembling that. "Just like." Tayte says deadpan. "Although, no, the thing about K'del being her father is common knowledge. Not that it's been a long time since, about six months, but." Not a long time in the grand scheme of the amount of time one spends parenting. "And it's not that I was more into him than her, I was just into them differently." If that makes sense. "If anything, there was almost too much emotion with K'del because of our friendship and not enough with Jo because she's Jo." Pause, "You've met all the people I'm talking about, right?" Lest she need to stop and explain more about each of them. It does seem to make sense, given not only Tela's nod as she sits back with what's left of her drink but how her mobile expression's centered somewhat, more positive now. "Met or can recognize," she says of those people, but then she has to smile just a touch teasingly and add, "So far," as though Tayte might be pulling an extended troupe out of her hip pocket for her next trick. As she sets down her empty glass-- next?-- "I hope I still get to glare at H'vier, because really. At least, at his back, because he looks like he likes to break people in half." "He does. But don't cross him. He used to be a prize fighter in Ista before he Impressed." Which is to suggest that Tayte's certain he can do significant damage, with breaking people in half being sort of the least of it. "There probably should be some background here..." The golden blonde sips her drink thoughtfully trying to sort out what to say. "When I lived here, worked here, at the beginning, I was--" Drink, then in a rush: "-a total slut who partied too much." She brushes her fingers through her hair. "And then I got knocked up and I stopped. Everything. I didn't party, I barely drank, I didn't sleep with anyone because I didn't want to get knocked up again. And I'd sort of made sex into this big scary thing, so I was working up to having it with K'del, and my plan was to have a few often repeating lovers instead of sleeping with just about everything that moved that would have me." She pulls the garnish from the drink and bites into the slice of tropical fruit. "And K'del seemed to be fine with that plan. And Jo was fine with -- well, I didn't really tell her the plan so much as express interest to get together again in bed. And then I ended up sleeping with H'vier, when it was supposed to have been K'del," She already knew about the one, but not what she felt it should have been. "And I go to K'del planning to have the most awesome sex with him, and he tells me he's going to be monogamous with some other woman. Because she wants babies and is getting older. And I can't say he's been anything but a great father to Yvalia, but it pretty much just chucked everything we had into between without a second thought for it." Sigh. Drink. And now she need a new drink. One is selected from the tray. Telavi hasn't had to listen, and look like she's listening, this intently since she was in a wingleaders' meeting and taking notes; it makes her writing hand shift once, irresolutely, before she links her hands together like she'd prop her chin on them, except that would mean she'd have to put her elbows on the table. If Tayte had been looking for an eyeroll worthy of Jinja at the mention of that older woman, or maybe it's of babies, she gets it in spades. "So first K'del gets a wild hair, or maybe that's an un-wild hair, and then H'vier wanted to exercise his inner jerk, on top of each other like that?" Figuratively, anyway. "I don't know what gets into their heads sometimes. At least you can drink," and at least she can drink, which she does rather gratefully. "Oh, it gets worse." Tayte assure Telavi, the tale isn't over yet. "So the lingerie I picked out never even made it out of the bag." Tela surely understands this woe, doesn't she? "And I told K'del to give me time and space, and what does he do, but arrange to be my transport to Nerat one day when I got sent on a cockamamie errand for Markarin," She says this in a way that suggests 'and don't get me started on him', "And I confess I'm playing hookie because my boss is a clod, and we pretend the whole day that everything's fine because it would be hard to be there with him otherwise, and then I sleep with him because-- I don't know, maybe I couldn't not know what that was like, or maybe I hoped we'd sleep together and he'd suddenly open his blind eyes to the fact that he had just started a family with me, with my daughter, and he'd see he was being an idiot about putting an end to things with us for some other woman." Driiiiink. "And then he tells me it's never happening again and we go back to the weyr. And only after that I found out I was knocked up. And you know what? H'vier was great about it. He was supportive and kind and -- wanted to be with me. He didn't even want me disappearing off to Southern." She sighs, staring at her drink. "And all this time he's had feelings for me. Real feelings, and I thought it was just about sex and the baby." She chokes up and uses the drink to fight back the tears that she forbids to come. Telavi actually presses her palm to her forehead at the news, though she does peek out from beneath: say it's not so! Except it is. And it gets worse. Around the time Tayte's slept with the first bronzerider anyway, Tela steals the curly citrus rind from the edge of her glass and starts very evenly nipping off its orange edge with her teeth-- but she's still watching Tayte with those green not-blind eyes and yes, there's something related to pity mixed up with the empathy even before she gets down to the pith. Then there's bronzerider number two, and-- "What? 'Feelings'? H'vier? Not just 'I feel like fucking you over the table'-type of feelings?" She's slid back in her seat, as though this could be dangerous. And worrisome. She searches Tayte's expression: is she sure?! "I'm not sure I'm ever going to forget him saying to me, 'that's what I get for falling for a whore'. So I'm assuming there are real feelings involved that made him so irate when I told him I wanted to continue to sleep with Jo." Tayte answers almost blandly. "Please tell me you sleep with less complicated people. Whatever happened to sex being fun? It's not like I was asking to sleep with someone who could knock me up. I could understand that. It's never fun not being sure who's the dad." She knows too well. "And I don't even know-- what I feel-- if I feel for him in return. But I've always struggled with knowing myself that way. Every almost relationship I've had has been as much casual friendship as heated passion. And is this something different? Or should it be?" She swirls her drink with the little spike that additional garnish are set upon and then pulls the berries off the skewer one at a time. "You don't think that was just trying to twist the kni-- oh." Oh. Telavi takes refuge in another long look that barely turns into a blink, but must not take Tayte's instruction as really requesting that much of an answer, especially with how the other woman keeps talking and all; the jerk of her head could mean anything from 'I try!' to 'Who could possibly be more complicated?!' to something more uncertain than either. It's also prelude to the hearty gulp she takes. There's a more positive half-smile for fun, twitching into uncertainty again-- it's that 'ask'-- before she finally parses the next part right, and once she catches up with the rest, if nothing else Tela can be decisive about, "I don't think it should be a 'should.' And," a dimple shows briefly. "You might feel better if you poked, really mashed those berries onto the little stick again." "I might feel better if I had a few more shots. And then punched some stupid man in the face." Violence courtesy of H'vier! Tah's ocean blues rove across the bar in a way that's predatory. Of course, she's decidedly into tipsy and heading toward drunk, so chances are good that no one is in real danger here (except the blonde herself). She does, at least, treat herself to more shots. "I feel bad for not realizing." Tayte says after a moment, looking at the empty shot glasses begrudgingly. "But when H'vier is H'vier, who could? The man makes a vocation out of being turned down by women. But-- Tela, I should've known when he didn't sleep with anyone else for three months." That's practically a lifetime for a man like H'vier. "I'm an idiot." She finally announces. "Who sleeps with idiots. Except Jo. Who's not an idiot." She's the only one though. "There's bound to be a stupid man or two around here." Telavi cranes around like she should be able to spot one on the menu. "...With or without garnish." Not that it's likely to help Tayte's future headache, but once Tela turns back, she employs one forefinger to delicately slide one of her as yet un-drunk shots toward the vintner, soon followed by the other. "Exactly, it's not like he said... Three months?" Tonight is a night for emphasis. "Are you sure?" How can Tayte be sure? Only then, and maybe this ties in with the idiot part, Tela leans over the table to whisper, "Maybe he doesn't know any better insults. He can't think that Jo would have to pay for it." Bound to be. Tayte's eyes scan again but return to see the shots getting nudged her way. "Determined to remember the whole story in the morning?" She asks wryly of the greenrider, arching a brow even as she picks up one of the shots. "Well, we were together a lot, but I guess there were times he could have--" The vintner contemplates this. "I think he was being honest." Or so her gut tells her. Bartenders have good guts, right? "It's not like with K'del. I found cleaned women's panties in his room once. Cracked me up. Then again K'del and I weren't in any way exclusive, and that was fine. I'm not a jealous person. Not even a little. I'm not sure I'd know jealousy if I felt it. Except maybe with my sister. I'm jealous of her sometimes." Tangent. "But not with lovers. It's-- for me, as long as I'm getting my piece of them, that's great, and they're getting all of what they need instead of only what I can offer." She frowns. "I guess that's why it pisses me off that K'del chose someone else over me. Other than the principle of the thing. By all rights, I should slap him every time I see him for a turn just for the insult." How dare he choose someone else. Or something. She's distracted. Then, "What was I saying?" "Making sure you don't have to," Tela rephrases, but a touch more lightly. Bartenders especially have good guts when they aren't thrown up, so she looks... not exactly convinced, but less doubtful now. And then her mouth rounds, her hand flying up over it because, "Clean? Who does that?" right before memory kicks in and then she's blushing again. Unless that's because of Tayte and her sister, somehow, but either way it's easier to nod for the other woman's getting her share and then say, with an added lift to her chin, "You didn't even know there was choosing, did you. It's not your fault you're not old." There's a pause for a drink, a necessary drink before she answers, "Jo? And paying?" Or not yet saying, rather. "Men worth taking home to mother," Tayte answers 'who does that' off-handedly, though her eyes are caught on Telavi's face a moment before answering the second K'del point. "I didn't. And that was plain unfair. Especially if you're the one saying you don't want to sleep with someone because of someone else and then you do and you still pick that someone else without a second thought. That's just rude." The blonde sighs and picks up the other of Tela's donated shots drinking it down. "Oh, I don't think Jo has to pay, I'd imagine she might sometimes, if it suits her to do so, but I doubt by and large. She's an attractive woman who's a jungle cat in the sack." Tayte practically purrs that, losing herself momentarily in some pleasant memory. Then she puts things together. "Oh! Oh, no, wait. I don't think H'vier thought Jo was paying me for sex. I think he was calling me a whore for wanting to sleep with anyone other than him. He called me his. And that just-- well, pissed me off." She's a strong, independent woman, or something, after all. Cleaned... panties... mother... Telavi looks awfully dubious there for another moment, but then she never has talked about her own mother, ever. This is also not the night where she suggests that Tayte might like it if one of her bronzeriders had picked her and stuck with her despite a flea in the ointment; no, this is a night for solidarity, and so she toasts that rude. And when Tayte explains, "Oh! So like a 'slut who'll sleep with anyone but him,' but this is," worth rolling her eyes over again, so she does. Except, "Why did it piss you off? The 'his' part. Not the whore part." Obviously, a man who cleans another woman's underwear before returning them is one that's housebroken and considerate. That's good enough to take home to someone's mother, right? "That sounds about right," Tayte laughs at Telavi's keen perception of the situation. "It's like you've met the man." It only takes once for some things to be obvious. Her tone is droll, the words delivered wryly. "Oh, I don't know. I've never belonged to anyone before. I've always been out on my own, doing as I liked. The only person who could claim ownership of me and get away with it is Vali," She looks thoughtful, "I'm not sure I'd like it if anyone owned me. Maybe I'm thinking of it wrong though. I'm not-- even a little bit experienced with this. Is it generally the idea that people like it when they belong to another person? If that person also belongs--" She trails off, her brows dipping. "I wonder if he would have said he was mine. Or if only I was his." That's something to think about that requires more drinking. She picks a tall drink this time, something that doesn't look too deadly. "The whore part probably didn't bother me because I've been called that before." Possibly, depending on whether he sullied them after she did! Or shrank them. Or made the dye run. Or, or... At any rate, Telavi can laugh with Tayte through that, until the uneasy shift for, "'Ownership'? It doesn't have to be that. Not even for 'his.' It's not exclusive, it doesn't have to be? It's not like you're not yours too." Presumably also her daughter's, but that's another thing Tela stays out of. She plays with her hair in lieu of drinking again right off, unfastening the end of one of the braids and starting to slowly, half-consciously undo it. "Now I'm curious," nearing reluctantly so, even her voice a little quieter. Until Tayte gets back to the whore, and then her eyes flick up as she says, "I'm sorry." Not like she did it, but she can be sorry anyway. That's not just solidarity. Tayte's expression remains thoughtful through Telavi's ruminations on ownership. "Well, maybe I overreacted. It wouldn't be the first time. I did leave K'del a note telling him I was going to Southern and taking our daughter with me, and well, not even that it was 'to' Southern." She's not blameless. There's plenty she can be mad at herself about, not even including how she reacted to H'vier's proclaimed possession of her. "Maybe we'll find out, yet, if he would have. If he ever speaks to me again. I know I don't want to never see him again. I know I don't want to never feel his touch again." She frowns at these thoughts. "I think-- I care about him." This seems to surprise her, and it requires a deep drink. Tayte waves off Telavi's apology, "To be honest, except for money changing hands, I probably deserved the title. But not anymore. It's been turns since I've been that woman." A pause, "Not that there's anything wrong with having as many lovers as one likes, you know-- really? I don't really blame H'vier for how he's behaved all these turns. New lovers are exciting." She shrugs her shoulders, "There are some instances, of course, where he could've made more eloquent invitations." Almost all of them, and probably especially the one to Alida. "Did you add, 'So there!' on the end?" Telavi has to ask, eyes bright, like this would be a good thing; the 'we' certainly doesn't hurt matters, though she does give Tayte an odd look, her mouth tilted as though it can't decide whether to frown the way the other woman does or to admit to a smile. Until: "Money really is the thing. And they are," exciting. "And..." she's not lingering on H'vier, herself; she's questioning out loud through that buzz, still playing with her hair, "It seems like maybe it shouldn't be bad for a woman to? Or a man to? But when it's an insult? Or if she's made to do it. That isn't good. It shouldn't be demeaning? Maybe? I don't know. But it doesn't seem like it would be fun. She should have choices, good choices. What do you think, Tah?" Tayte doesn't, at this point, seem inclined to focus on H'vier, instead taking the opening. "Oh, I think a woman, or a man, or whoever should fuck anyone that makes them happy. If that's many someones, then so be it. As long as they're somehow responsible about things, and at least acknowledge the unavoidable risks." She sighs. "You know when the healers say 'not one hundred percent effective'? They mean it." She takes drink. "More than that, too, I think a lot of people are far too ashamed about bringing people home and the things they do with them." But at least she doesn't seem inclined to go on about that. "What's your cup of tea, Tela? Men? Women? Both?" It's not meant to be prying, just a casual get-to-know you question. The way Tayte's expression sits though, she probably could be distracted into not getting an answer. Mmm, booze. "I meant," but Telavi manages to shrug prettily even when it's awkward; it's all right. Certainly she's not arguing, though again there's that sympathy-- even if the whites of her eyes might show just a little, too-- for the not. "I don't know what I'd do," she says, low enough to count as a murmur, and Tayte's follow-up question actually meets with a relieved almost-smile for the distraction. "Both, of course!" That's easy enough. Next! "It's not an easy position to be in." Tayte admits softly, though she doesn't linger on the topic either. There's too much sad stuff to think about when she goes too far the direction of babies. "But you have a preference for women?" The bartender queries with a little tilt of her head. "That's who I've seen you go home with more often than not." Observant. Well, maybe not now, but usually. "Mmm." Really, it could have a few more mms attached to it. Tela tilts her head this way, that way, tick-tock. She glances away, back towards the menu, and then towards Tayte, partly through her loosened hair. "I don't quantify it?" Not buzzed enough, clearly; then again, it may not have all hit her system. "Balance is nice." Is it unfair to leave it at that? It might be. She might need to extrapolate in so many words, even if it's not all of the truth, flipping a hand in the air as she tries to explain to Tayte, "I'm... not seeing a woman," or presumably women, "as regularly as all that. Right now." And when she does troll the Snowasis, none of them are regular. Just one dimple shows when she asks, "What about you?" "Oh, so there's a regular some regular man then?" Tayte doesn't miss what's not said but what the words imply and she lifts a brow. "You're not the other woman, are you? Because that would be totally hypocritical, and awful, because then I'd have to like you." The other woman, presumably the one K'del chose over her. Something in her tone says she doubts it, but not, surely, because Telavi couldn't be the other woman, just that so far, she doesn't seem the type to require absolute a partner to save himself for her. "I like both. In different ways. The almost relationship I once had was with a woman. But not because she was a woman, because she was her. If that makes sense. I can't really compare the two. Which is probably why I wanted to sleep with H'vier and Jo. They're apples and oranges." Beat. "And such good fruit." Her tone suggests what a tragedy it is to have to choose. "Have you ever knocked boots with Jo?" Dimples testify to 'yes,' or at least a version of that, only then Tayte continues and Tela exclaims, "I hope not!" except, wait, the other woman and there she goes, blushing again. Someday, maybe she'll grow out of that. "No. Oh, no. No babies for me. I know some people say that and then they do, but a lot more people say that and then they still don't. No, no, no." Some more of that drink, the one she'd skipped ahead to try, the one that used to have pretty layers and now more of a blur, helps her recover the rest of her poise; in fact, she listens to that 'almost' relationship with an intent quality that only diffuses like the drink over time, only to brighten up again for a stage-whispered, "Not recently!" Tayte laughs at the first, "Oh, Tela-dear, it's fine if you're another woman." Beat. "With any of them. Really." Pause. "Well, maybe I'd have something to say about H'vier. Now." Could that be a touch of possessiveness? Now that she knows it's not just sex? "I'd just rather you weren't the one." But they've got that straightened out anyway. She has to grin for the adamance in the 'no's when it comes to babies. There's no judgement for it, just amusement. "Oh, good. I was going to say that if you hadn't, you should. That woman works magic." She gives a little sigh. "I can't believe I'm thinking about giving something like that up for a man." Then she's giggling. "I guess though it's not just for a man. It's for H'vier." And that's different somehow. Telavi looks at Tayte, giggling Tayte, Tayte who's giggling about H'vier and not even about the prospect of mashing his berries, and she says with a sigh, "Oh, Tayte." She stands up enough to reach across the table to pat the other woman's shoulder, and she murmurs, "Good luck," without even as much emphasis on that last word as she might like. "I'll be right back," the greenrider adds apologetically before disappearing to 'powder her nose.' She will, too, as long as she's not waylaid too often first... but maybe not in time for some of her left-behind drinks not to be waylaid, en route to Hurlsville. |
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