Logs:Not, Apparently, Fictional
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| RL Date: 13 December, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: V'ret has a bath. Lys has a new experience. Things become more intimate. |
| Where: The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 14, Month 7, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sexual themes. Same day as, for Lys: Logs:T'gar's_Skills and Logs:Dimpled_Encouragement, and for V'ret: Logs:The_Opportunities_That_Present_Themselves. |
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>---< Zoth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr >--------------------------------------< Viewed from the air, there is not a terribly lot to recommend this ledge: it's just barely large enough for a bronze to land upon, and not really suited to lounging. It's long but skinny, built more like a runway than anything else. A dragon could perhaps lay their top half out along the tongue of rock, but their backside would still be curled within the weyr proper. But the view from the ledge itself is ideal for those of the proper inclination: it is facing head-on towards the ground ledges of the queens, such that any dragon relaxing on his ledge couldn't help but be aware of their every coming and going. It's located just high off the ground enough that someone observing from the bowl floor probably couldn't tell where the occupant of the ledge is looking. >---< The Women-Watching Weyr, High Reaches Weyr >---------------------------< Luckily for the dragon, the inside weyr boasts a couch with a hollow that has conformed to the shape of many bronze bodies over the turns. It progresses in a series of smaller bubbles back into the rock: the first is an evenly round affair, wide open to the outside and with shelves carved along the wall opposite the dragon's wallow to hold sundry draconic items. The second room is a bit cozier, though it manages to squeeze in all the necessities. The entryway is too small for anyone but a human, and closed off with a thick cloth hanging. Inside, there is a small hearth that is swept clean, and room for at least a couch and table, perhaps even a desk: there is an indented nook opposite the hearth that looks as though it might have held one in the past. Separated by another hanging, the next bubble cavern is large enough for a double bed with just enough room to squeeze by into the last, tiny cavern that holds the true prize of this weyr: a coveted bath, large enough for two if they're cozy. -----------------------------< Active Players >----------------------------- Lys F 20 5'5" slender, blonde hair, blue-green eyes 0s V'ret M 20 6'2" fit, brown hair, blue eyes 5m A little later on the evening that V'ret moved his stuff up to his new place. A blue dragon has dropped off and retrieved his rider after supper; it's not until after that point that Zoth reaches out for Evyth. « If your rider might spare the time, or would like to perhaps bring her work with her, V'ret would enjoy the pleasure of her company. » This is much more like V'ret himself would have phrased it than such talk usually is. Evyth's response is easy. Lys is still engaged, but she'll come when she finishes the task at hand. There's a certain pride the green takes in the fact that Lys is prioritizing the professional needs over her personal desires. It isn't, as it turns out, so much longer before Evyth angles to land on the bronze's ledge. The runway proves an interesting challenge to Evyth, not because it's a tight fit - since surely, it's not for even this naturally rotund green, but rather because it's a different angle than she's used to. She circles an extra time before they make a neat landing there. Lys dismounts, still dressed in her hand-me-down riding leathers, which says she must have worked through dinner. Once Lys has dismounted, she gives Evyth a little caress and pulls down her familiar patchwork satchel from one of the small packs on the riding straps before the green takes to the air again. Not much room out there on the ledge, so V'ret waits just inside, the wider open part of the cavern. He reaches out for her with one hand, gesturing with the other. "Not so much space inside, but--did you have a look around this one before you picked yours? You're going to be jealous, if you didn't." He's more effusively excited than he'd usually be. It sounds like he's had a bit to drink, which probably explains that. He heads in, holding the curtain for her. The bottle's still on the table. Only one of the glasses from earlier. "No," Lys tells him of looking at the weyr. "One with a hidden door and stair, one with a window and then mine." Evidently, Lys must have fell in love or no doubt she'd have looked longer. She doesn't resist his reach, but her body tenses at the description of 'not so much space inside'. "How much is not so much space?" sounds strange, worried just a little. That she asks that question might explain why she hesitates to pass through the curtain. "It's just a bit smaller. There's room for both of us, don't worry." For once, V'ret does not seem to figure out exactly what the issue is, not right away, anyhow. He moves out of the way, though, to let her have a better look. "Look, see? It's lovely." This is probably only a word he uses for description when talking to women. Like it's one he's heard girls use. "Bedroom's a bit smaller, bath's a bit smaller than that, is all." That last a little too casually dropped in there. "Bath?" is an incredulous repeat. Lys wouldn't miss a thing like that. She moves to where V'ret stands and leans into him, looking past him, as if she might be able to see it from here. "You have a bath?" 'Lucky bastard' says her tone. The next room must be of acceptable size because she does move to step through the curtain and take a look around. An arm catches around her waist as V'ret lets the curtain fall back into place. "I do." Terribly, terribly smug. "It's hardly the sort of space in the caverns, but--well, the privacy is more than worth it. Nobody else's elderly uncle hanging around there, for one thing." Very cheerful. Whiskey cheerful. Then he's moving on to move the next hanging. He does seem to have retrieved that incredibly purple quilt, though it's just folded up yet; he has at some point made it as far as sheets. He hasn't really done much in the way of, say, cursory dusting, though. Priorities. "That is an advantage. Irianke used to let me use her bath sometimes," Lys confides as she goes with him into the next room. Given the whiskey cheerful, he might not notice the way she's clinging to him just a little. Maybe she's just glad to be here with him. "Do you have anything to drink?" Nevermind that she's seen the glass. Perhaps he finished it all. "Always. I want a decent liquor cabinet, but I think that might be the sort of thing I have to find on my own if I want a nice one. It's not urgent." V'ret lets go of her to wander back out in search of the bottle, and a clean glass. Pour a little for her, and a little for him. "You're welcome to mine whenever you like, but--I can't promise I won't be a bit lecherous about it." He moves back to offer her one of the two. Hopefully the clean one. There's a few deep breaths taken when he leaves, but by the time he returns, Lys is settled on the edge of the bed and she'll take the glass gratefully from him and drink. "If the bath is in a smaller space than this, I'll probably need the distraction of you to be able to use it anyway." That could sound like an invitation, but there are those markedly slow and deep breaths being taken. Sitting down next to her, V'ret has a drink from his own and slips his arm around her again. "You don't like them. Small spaces?" He gives a glance around before looking back at Lys. "I've always found it kind of comforting. Safe. It is a bit smaller. But you can have as many distractions as you like. I can get in with you, if you'd like. Help you wash your hair." That's totally what he'd be thinking about under those circumstances, right? "I used to like them a lot." There's a little bit of a smile for that. "It used to be that wide open spaces made my heart race and I didn't feel safe without rock above my head. In the cave-in, there were only small spaces. Spaces that got smaller if you bumped them wrong. H'kon was caved in completely away from the rest of us at the beginning. Dug himself out." There's a quiet but very sincere respect in Lys' voice for that. It's not more than a swallow later that she finishes her drink and then sets the empty glass on the bed. She shifts to take off her flight jacket, but then it doesn't stop there and she's reaching to pull her shirt off, quite without explanation. There's not much V'ret can say for all that, except to make sympathetic noises. He seems about to take her empty glass and go fix its emptiness, when suddenly there's clothes coming off, and that stops him with glasses in both hands. All his good manners do have a point where they stop, and that ends with him watching very keenly as her shirt is coming off. Both glasses get set on the bedside table. After he's emptied his own. Lys angles herself just slightly when she gets to her last layer - a thin off-white chemise - so that when it comes off and there's only bare flesh beneath, her back is angled toward V'ret. Ink is drawn down her skin, starting from one shoulder where a falling sky of rock is in relief, as if some piece of the rock of her were falling, breaking into stars, tiny stars that ride a wave in toward her spine and stops at a level with the lowest rib the last star forming a simple but beautiful compass rose. She's silent in this reveal and doesn't seem inclined to explain now that she's shirtless, her arms curled around her curves in the front, probably a little self-conscious. For a moment, V'ret is all sharp eyes and too-serious face, like he's forgotten to smile, so hard is he concentrating. Like his gaze could catch all this and preserve it forever. But apparently it can't, at least not acting alone, so then he shifts and his fingers brush her shoulder, tracing the line of it on down. His free hand rests on one of those arms. "Let me see your breasts." Tender, but not phrased as a question, for once. "You don't have to hide from me." Fortunately for V'ret's concentration, Lys isn't looking to see his face. She tenses a little at the touch of his fingers, but it's probably not unexpected. After a moment of that tracing, she starts to relax a little, only to tense as he speaks. "Broken people hide, it's what we do." So, she took that a little more deeply than he meant it, but the important thing is that with a deep breath, she lets her arms fall and she even moves to lay back on his bed, kicking off her boots as she does. Down the rabbit hole, then: "From anyone else, Lys. Not from each other." Maybe not what he would have said a couple drinks ago, but V'ret has found his smile again, there, though his eyes haven't broken away. They don't until he finally attends to his own shirt, where there's an unavoidable moment of fabric over his eyes. No such work of art. The scars are old, arbitrary; he's not exactly in a rush to show her his back, but his front's hardly unmarred. A fighter would have taken obvious damage to the face at some point. This isn't that. Without leaving time for the gawking, he climbs over her, to kiss her. Even without time left for gawking, there's certainly surprise in Lys' expression. Her skin is smooth; the scars on the inside. Her surprise at his, however, means that she's starting to sit up as he climbs over her, her hands reaching for his torso. It means the kiss happens that much sooner, that she lets him push her back down or keep her half-risen as suits him. This kiss, from Lys' side anyway, is something oddly intimate by comparison to their past shared kisses and within it there is some element of surrender, perhaps not complete surrender but something seems changed. It's quite some time later that Lys is left slowing her breaths from gasps and finding words: "That was..." she finds those two words but the rest fail, either because she can't think or there simply aren't words to describe that experience. Is there really a comparison? "...not, apparently, fictional?" V'ret's smile is broad, barely suppressed for the purposes of kissing her, and thoroughly. He reaches up to stroke her hair through the next, and the next, and the next. Then: "All this and you still allegedly have your virtue. It's like being a teenager again." "Allegedly," Lys repeats as she sits up, rolling her eyes. "What, was I so good that you're having doubts?" That's challenging but it softens so fast as she looks down at him, smile spreading on her lips, her secret smile. "I've never done this before. Any of it." She considers him another moment before allowing, "I liked it." And even, "I like you," which might be braver than all the rest put together. "Not just because of this, but maybe extra because of this." That last is wry. "No doubts!" V'ret starts to sit up, too, if only to stay on a level with her. "I don't have any question about whether you qualify as... intact." In the interest of preserving the sheets, he casts about momentarily, winds up using his discarded shirt to clean up. He can put on a clean shirt later; for right now she'll just be stuck looking at him without it. "I'd like to think I've successfully corrupted you at least a little. I..." Pause. "Like you, too." Maybe he doesn't put it so plainly very often. She doesn't draw more attention to it than the warming of her smile does on it's own. She does kiss him again, gently. She must like that kind of candor. When she speaks, it's to assure him impishly, "I'm sure I'm well on my way to downright naughty." She takes her turn to wipe her hands with his shirt. "I suppose this is one of those moment where having your own private bath is very handy. Want to show me?" She suggests with a lift of her brows. "Well on your way," V'ret agrees. The bed gets a momentary longing look. "Part of me would rather never wash again, after that, but I suppose that's impractical. Clean up, and then we... can take care of whatever it is you brought over in the way of work." Another kiss, caught on his way that direction to start running water in the little room beyond. Lys laughs, softly. "Work," is agreed with no small amount of regret. That doesn't stop her from dimpling at him though and saying with feigned thoughtfulness. "Well, since you have a bath, we don't have a lot of motivation not to just... get dirty again." That last is decidedly suggestive. "And maybe we can do this again-- tomorr- oh, no. Shit. I'm supposed to study with-- nevermind." She's frowning. "Maybe we could get up really early," it's wistful because it's not practical. V'ret's thoughtfulness isn't feigned, taking a minute to really think, using that time to track down the couple towels--both white, but they're slightly different sizes and one has some blue embroidery that seems to have been half-finished--that he's managed to acquire so far. "If you stayed over, we'd have more time in the morning." That's aggressively casual. So casual it could not possibly be any less casual. Lys reaches for the towel with the blue embroidery, without concern that that one might not be 'for her'. She's looking at it, really looking at it. "Huh." It gives her time to think to say, "I could finish this for you, if you want. Next month." When there isn't so much. She looks up at him, "You don't think it would be too much?" That seems an honest question, and not about the embroidery. Her expression doesn't hide that she might just want to stay. No trouble in yielding up the fancier towel, anyway. "Maybe make the other one match?" V'ret might not actually have any understanding of how long such things take, but he does sound pleased at the notion. Again, distractions. "I think it would be..." Quiet for a moment. "Enough." He goes, checks the water, shuts it off. "Tell me a secret?" Or just stamp 'feeling uncomfortably vulnerable' on his forehead if he's going to make it that obvious. "Only if you keep me around long enough," Lys says it offhandedly, and where for some girls that would be an oblique inquiry into where he sees this relationship going, it doesn't seem to be anything more than Lys candidly aware that this may be something fleeting. As the next is pragmatic, it's unlikely even that she's thought that deeply about her first comment. "These things take time," in all seriousness, "And I'm not the greatest at it." But her service fee is free. "I'd like to stay," is real. But that's not the secret because she gives it some serious thought. "I have a bathing suit I've never worn, but I would wear it for you. Maybe when we can between to somewhere nice. And warm." Presumably it doesn't cover much. It might be a small thing, but V'ret himself gives no protest for it. He seems pleased by the notion, in fact, smiling, looking at her--how he can be looking at her bare breasts and smiling at the notion of her wearing more is down to the magic of small quantities of clothing, presumably. Anyway: bath drawn, the water very quickly renders the air warmly damp, and he's getting in. "Ista," a little distractedly. "We should go to Ista." Lys hesitates as she watches him get in, looking at the smaller bubble of a cavern. When she crosses to join him, it's briskly, as though focusing on each step will help her ignore the smallness of the space. When she climbs in, she curls into his lap and leans herself against his chest, in sudden need for reassurance, her breath coming markedly faster. Some moments of just breathing, of just being against him pass before she murmurs, "That wasn't a very good secret." And so he gets the more intimate: "I once asked a friend to help me find my parents," Lys takes a slow breath. "In the end, I changed my mind. I decided that I didn't want to give them the chance to hurt me all over again. Better an old wound than a fresh one, you know?" She gives him a questioning look and a single-shouldered shrug. "But when I met Irianke and she saw something worthwhile in me where everyone else saw a screw up, I wished that she-- Well, she's not. And-- It doesn't matter." That's Lys becoming too embarrassed by the intimacy of the sharing. That's Lys' mental running away. "Maybe that one's no good either." Maybe it's too much. Evidently her companion really isn't in a hurry for the washing; perfectly content to just settle there, warm, girl in his arms. V'ret strokes her hair, her shoulder, her cheek. One might get the impression that he likes touching her. "How long has it been since you've seen them?" He's slower about volunteering anything without a direct query, but finally offers, "I haven't been home in years." It's not precisely a secret, but it's a sharing. Surprise is enough to stall and then draw Lys back out of whatever mental retreat she was making. She looks up at V'ret, blinking a little. "Oh, I thought-- Sorry, I used to lie about it to everyone, but now I kind of thought people just knew." Mind readers. She manages to be very matter of fact, "I've never known them. I was fostered before I was three, to a couple in Balen Hold. They brought me to the Weyr when I was six. The only thing in my record here is their names and that they'd brought me to 'be with my own kind,' whatever that means." She leans into him, "I've always been alone," is a different sort of confession and solace is found in his arms. "Do you miss your home? Your family?" "I don't really make it a habit to talk about that sort of thing with people." V'ret amuses himself briefly collecting water in his cupped hand to pour it over her shoulder. At least it's warm. "I don't miss what's there. It left a... lasting impression." That's one way of putting it, anyway. "I sometimes... miss what wasn't." "I don't usually either. Unless someone's being an ass and deserves a punch to the gut." Lys looks grim for that; clearly she's used her orphanhood to effect more than once. Her fingers begin to trail across his chest, lingering on scars that she finds. There's a question in the tilt of her chin and the raise of her brows, but she keeps it strictly nonverbal for his benefit; it's easy to ignore that kind of question, and she doesn't push. She does lean in to nibble on his earlobe and down where his jaw meets his neck. "What do you miss most that wasn't, when you miss?" Deep breaths. "My mother's husband wasn't my father." Like that's enough explanation to follow along with the trail of her fingers. But her proximity, the thing with his ear--which V'ret does seem to like--and that lifts much of the heaviness from it. "I wish I'd met my father when he was... in any position to be a father." And so things make the journey from being the story to being the truth. Or his truth, anyway. Lys has only a simple nod for him, and a curling of her arms around his neck now, embracing him in a way that is as far from sexual as the moments in the bed were near. It's not sororal, of course, but it's a pure expression of acceptance and support. "I don't have scars," she murmurs after some moments, "But orphans with bad attitudes don't get off easy. Not even here. They're just more careful." It's a vague admission, but a sharing anyway. Maybe it is a comfort, or at least it's easier to not think about some things, and so V'ret lets them slip away with another scoop of water over his own shoulder. He lays his head back for a moment, lets his eyes close for a moment, indulges something for just that moment. "I want to ask who hurt you," carefully, but this isn't the slick kind of careful, this is something else. "But I'm not sure you should tell me." "I won't tell you anyway. It doesn't matter now." Lys tells him, but gentles it with a kiss just to one side of his mouth and then wet fingertips tracing down the side of his face. "If I weren't as I am, you mightn't have wanted me. Leave the past the past. I'm with you now." Safe? That might imply it, the way she kisses him is meant to be distracting. "Maybe we could have been entirely other people. Holders. I would have probably had to ask you to marry me, after that performance, earlier." It is a more than adequate distraction. The kisses back are maybe not as ardent as those in the referenced earlier, but they're sweet, playful. "Twelve children before we were twenty-five or however it usually goes." V'ret finally reaches for the soap; the hot water won't last forever. "Maybe we could have been," Lys agrees, but she wrinkles her nose in distaste, "But do we have to have been holders in that other life?" Someone doesn't seem to care much for the holdbred. (Nevermind her current attachment to one.) "Maybe if I'd been a holder there could have been children, but-- no." Just no. "If I were going to weyrmate, I'd rather that be because I wanted to, not because someone had some stupid idea that you'd violated my honor. Besides, as you pointed out, I'm still intact, and I'm sure that hold girls go that far with silver-tongued young men all the time. Look at Farideh." She rolls her eyes without explaining. She shifts off of him so he can have a little room for the use of the soap, helping him soap up, taking help if offered in return. Between the two of them, though there's some awkwardness and laughter and more of those playful kisses, they'll be clean soon enough. Then? Then work. Then-- she curls into him once they're settled on the bed, not bothering to put back clothes that would only be uncomfortable to sleep in. When she bragged she was a good cuddler? She wasn't kidding. Pliable and content to touch or to be tangled up with him or somewhere in between. There's even goodnight kisses and a quiet wish of, "Sweet dreams," from Lys before her eyes are too heavy to keep open anymore. "I can't picture my mother having run off to the Weyr, I suppose. So whatever might have been... this is better." V'ret observes, before the conversation dissolves into the logistics of sharing the tub. Later, in bed, between the sheets and beneath the quilt she'd said she didn't actually like, he's so relaxed that her well-wishes get only a half-asleep gibberish murmur in return, before he slips the rest of the way away. |
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