Logs:Melancholy Mistake
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| RL Date: 11 July, 2016 |
| Who: Lys, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The day after Lys and Jocelyn break up, Lys visits V'ret. |
| Where: The Women Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 5, Month 4, Turn 41 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Jocelyn/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Backdated. |
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| Lys arrives as the poker game is wrapping up, on a regularly scheduled night. No foreboding dress or bottle of booze, nothing tonight to sound internal warning bells or trouble the mind. She's dressed down, in an overlarge (man's) sweater and wool leggings, her small overnight bag over her shoulder once she comes in off the ledge. Her expression is disconsolate as she crosses to the bronzerider to wrap her arms around his shoulders and press a kiss to his cheek in silent greeting. She doesn't disturb the game or the chatter that sees the last person off, availing herself of the amenities in the bronzerider's weyr while he finishes with his associates. By the time he's done, she's stretched comfortably on the bed with her journal before her, but the pencil limp in her fingers, eyes staring at nothing in particular. "Baby, baby, baby. My good luck." There's some laughter going on, and more than a little drinking, and enough smoking that she's probably better off for retreating, but V'ret is clearly pleased by the arrival, presenting his cheek for that kiss. Apparently that last hand must have gone well for V'ret, since he's not one of those cursing at the outcome. But the goodnights are amiable enough, drawn out by talk that seems to have forgotten that there's a lady present at all. V'ret finally successfully kicks them out with the reminder, not put in gentle terms, that his evening's company is not hypothetical, and then makes his way in to his bedroom, stripping his shirt off as he goes. "Didn't mean to keep you waiting so long." Lys is pulled out of her mental wanderings by the sound of his voice and she tucks the pencil into its holder on the leather bound journal and closes it with habitual care. "That's alright," she readily forgives shifting back onto her knees to wind the cord that holds the journal closed around the body of the book. That done, she leans over the edge of the bed to tuck it into her bag and then rolls onto her back to give him a soft, if melancholy, smile, "I had a nice bath while you were finishing. Good night?" She inquires of the game. "Good enough. A little better than breaking even. My good luck got there in the end." Which is what earns her the appreciative look, or maybe it's the fact that she's got more skin on display, now. V'ret only gets as far as the shirt off before he's coming over to sprawl on the bed himself. He could probably use the bath to wash off the tobacco smell, but at least it's not stale. "Even though I was a bit distracted." Has he not noticed how sad she looks? Maybe he hasn't noticed. Or maybe he's waiting for information to be volunteered, if it's forthcoming. Lys, the liar by omission, doesn't seem to be about to volunteer anything, but also doesn't seem to have the energy to make it genuinely seem that nothing is wrong. She reaches out to him as he settles, trying to encourage him to lay on top of her and give her that (however fleeting) sense of security that sometimes comes with being eclipsed by someone bigger and stronger. Even if he can't be quickly encouraged there, she seeks contact with him, but a touch that screams 'comfort' not 'sex.' "Ev?" The way she says his name is distracted, maybe she hasn't even heard his answer. They're a good pair. "I need to be good for a while, I think. Not take chances." No fun and games of the less than legal variety, she means. This is not at all a position that V'ret minds being in, but from here he's much quicker to catch on that something is wrong, that he's not just here to be burying his face against her shoulder and smelling her and thinking of other things. "I'm not sure you and I have the same definition of 'good'," he muses, perhaps more lightheartedly than he should. Then he shifts over to one elbow, so he can actually properly look at her face. "You think I'm going to get you in some trouble we can't get out of?" "No," Lys denies, but the word is drawn out. She's reluctant to tell him but after a moment manages a fairly steady and succinct explanation. "If I'm caught right now, Jocelyn has reason to make it bad for me. Really bad." A pause, "Jilted-bad." "Jilted," V'ret repeats, and this has him stretching out more on his side--and rubbing his face, like this news is unfortunate, when he has every possible reason to think it's a good thing. "I'm... so sorry." For what? Even he might not be totally sure, since the face-rubbing continues, like he might actually abrade off all the drinking and find some clarity beneath. "For the best," Lys replies, but her voice is brittle. "You were right," she adds a moment later, shaking her head and then looking away as a few tears escape and her breath draws a sniffle she tries to smother without being able to turn her head enough into the bed to effectively do so. V'ret shifts, and if she's amenable, it might be best if she were little spoon--it avoids eye contact, but will maybe let him put his arm around her properly, now. "Even if it was true..." Collecting his thoughts. "Even if it was, I shouldn't have said it. I'm... shit at this sort of thing." A long breath. "If you have someone, if you have a hundred someones, not my place to have opinions about it. I know." Lys slides into the little spoon position as much out of habit as the desire to be held. She's quiet, controlling those tears (or trying to). "It doesn't matter. It wasn't right." And she hates that, but is trying to sound like it's alright. (It's not alright. She is not alright.) If there's enough of a pause, if he doesn't get weird about it, she'll go to pieces there in his arms for a while, crying herself out in time and dozing off in his arms, here where it's safe. Nevertheless, she sleeps restlessly and is woken by dreams that have her flailing and pushing herself bolt upright, gasping in air. It's much the same as some of her worse nightmare nights, but somehow indefinably worse still. He's quiet throughout all that--very quiet. Just a few minutes before, V'ret was joking, in not so many words, about how the rest of them needed to clear out so he could go attend to the girl in his bedroom. But the attending he's doing now seems to consist of laying very still until she falls asleep. At which point he does shift away from her. Long enough to get his boots off, to get a glass of water to make for fewer regrets in the morning, and then find his way back to bed. When she wakes, he's been sleeping soundly for some time. But the first slight movement is enough to start to rouse him, and her sitting up has him groping for her before he's even gotten his eyes open. A hand on her shoulder, or her arm. "Baby. Baby. Baby." Per usual it takes Lys some moments to get her breathing under control, but she's practiced at this now and at least now there's no screaming as she awakes, as there once was a very long time ago now. She twists so she can meet that searching hand with one of her own and grip it like it's the lifeline that will keep her from slipping into nightmares unending. Her shoulders shudder as she digs deep to force her chest to expand in slow, gradually more even breaths and by the time she's able to speak, she just lays back, leaning into him. She doesn't bother to explain; he knows the signs by now. It's some moments later that she turns into him and presses her face against his neck. Once his brain has at least slightly engaged, V'ret's able to do better, pulling her in against him in a more conscious way. "It's all right. It's... all right." A bit of a stretch worked in there, but he's not moving overmuch; the less he rouses, the easier it is to get back to sleep after episodes like this. "I'm right here." Some nights, that much is a real comfort to Lys. Unfortunately, tonight is not one of those nights. Lys pushes herself up, head shaking. "I have to go," is never the greatest thing to hear in the middle of the night, but the words sound urgent, almost panicked and her jerky movements to de-tangle herself from sheets and blankets are ineffectual for some moments before she manages to make any headway. "What?" It's baffled, to say the least, but not upset, like at this hour V'ret is willing to accept that these night terrors are just a fact of life. Like the weather. Unpredictable, not always pleasant, but what do you do? Especially when you're barely awake yourself. He's not in any position to properly help, but he doesn't do much to hinder her getting away, either. She doesn't seem to expect his help, at least not with the blankets, and if she were thinking more clearly herself, Lys might be grateful that he doesn't hinder. She manages to free herself and struggle up from the bed to blindly search for her bag and journal. "Sorry. I shouldn't've come tonight. Sorry." Repetitive, hurried, still almost panicked. "I'll-- Later, I'll see you later," might be as much reassurance that she's not vanishing into the night forever as he's going to get before she's making to head for the ledge and the ride that will shortly arrive there. |
Comments
Silva (22:17, 15 July 2016 (PDT)) said...
- ( <-- that is all I have. A super sad face.
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