Logs:Not Myself
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| RL Date: 6 October, 2014 |
| Who: H'vier, Lycinea |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Lycinea comes to ask for a dress; H'vier wants something in return. (Surprisingly not what you're probably thinking.) |
| Where: H'vier's weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 13, Turn 35 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Fayla/Mentions, Tahvra/Mentions, Tayre/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Just a little bit of angst. Slightly back-dated. |
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| It's almost routine by now. The way Lya just shows up sometimes on his ledge. This time, it's late, but not so late as to think the bronzerider might already be asleep-- if he's alone at all. She hugs the dark wool coat purchased at the last gather they attended to her sides. It's snowing now, the flakes falling onto her loose hair and melting. She crosses the ledge quickly after she's delivered and steps in to where the wind won't be so chilling. "H'vier?" She calls. Hopefully he's home. Just because Reisoth is doesn't mean the man is as well. It's likely that Reisoth gives his rider a slight heads up of their company, though he doesn't tell the elevator dragon's rider to relay any information to Lycinea herself. It might account for the woman that comes out of the weyr shortly after, however, still pulling on her flight jacket and shooting the girl a silent glare for the interruption that H'vier has clearly used to kick the greenrider out. Lycinea, to her credit, meets that glare with a healthy dose of slut-shaming, staring openly at the greenrider with judgement. It's gone as soon as the greenrider is, though, so it's probably yet another of the girl's feigned or fibbed attitudes. The exit of the other woman was taken as an invitation, though her hand is raised in front of her eyes, out far enough that she can see the ground in front of her, but so that she won't have to see more of the bronzerider than she'd have any care to. "Tell me you're wearing pants and don't be lying about it?" she requests once she knows she's far enough within to be heard. "It's nothing you haven't seen before," says H'vier without actually saying whether or not he's wearing pants. But, never fear, he is, indeed, wearing a pair of comfortable linen pants. No shirt, though. He's currently pouring himself a drink, though he's already pretty relaxed as it is. That's the nice thing about having company over. And maybe the nice thing about visiting him soon after. H'vier is in a pretty good mood. "You want a drink?" Her never saying yes won't keep him from offering. The first line has Lya hesitating a long few moments before she briefly spreads the fingers on her upraised hand to peek between them, a relieved sigh coming as she drops the hand to her side. She makes a face at the offer of a drink. Ew, booze. "I need a dress." At least she's direct? Once he has his drink, H'vier moves around to settle on his couch. He slouches down comfortably, legs spread open in that way guys do for some reason. "What do you need a dress for? What's wrong with the things you have?" He probably can't remember what all he's actually bought for her over the last few months. "Turnover," Lya says taking a few more steps in hesitantly and then rounding to stand in front of the hearth, facing the bronzerider, looking, for the first time in his company a little ill-at-ease. "They gave me the night off," that never happens. Not when there's a party. "And I'm making friends with Fari and with Telavi and -- I just---" She blushes, "I want to look pretty. And it's a masquerade. I don't have to be--" She gestures to pretty much all of her. "Myself." "Ah." Turnover. H'vier does not, personally, seem to be looking forward to the event. But surely he can understand why a girl might. "I don't know why you'd have a problem being yourself, Lya. You're a beautiful young woman," of course he doesn't call her a girl out loud. "But I do start to worry that our relationship is becoming a touch one-sided here." Which would be fine, you know, if he was the one with the side. Lycinea stiffens at the last. It's the kind of freezing that one who had expected as much would have, because she must've. Her eyes fall to the ground. "What do you want?" H'vier grins lazily at the girl before taking a slow, thoughtful drink. He might be drawing out the silence on purpose, but eventually he says, "Don't pretend like you don't know what I want. The better question is what are you willing to do, isn't it?" That might sound more suggestive if he hadn't just gotten laid. As it is, he's probably open to considering things other than sex. Lucky Lya! The blonde reaches up to her hair, running fingers through it while she chews on her lower lip. "I could babysit for you." Because Lya is really the kind of girl a parent wants to leave their children alone with, right? "You just had another kid, and you already have one-- and you like--" She makes a gesture toward the rumpled furs on the bed without really looking at them. "I can be sort of -- on call--- for like... three months, when I'm not on shift. "No," the bronzerider says. He does, at least, deign to explain his answer to the girl. "I have no contact with Fayla's daughter. And, believe it or not, the time I get to spend with my children is more important to me than getting my dick wet." H'vier arches a brow, waiting for her to offer something else. Lya puckers her lips in frustration. "I-- can make sock puppets for them?" This is... probably not where H'vier was looking for this conversation to go next. This time H'vier doesn't even bother responding. His expression remains basically the same, watching her expectantly. Something better than that, girl. Lya swallows, looking at H'vier now. It's some long moments later that she shakes her head. "I don't have anything else." That she's willing to give. "Would you please ask Reisoth to ask the elevator dragon back up?" Funny how she never knows the dragon on duty's name. Non-riders. Pfft. She's already shifting to move for the ledge, arms hugged tight around her middle. "No." That's apparently H'vier's favorite word today! "Not yet. Take off your jacket. Come here." He takes another drink from his glass, then sets it aside as he sits up slightly and pats his thigh with one hand. That meaning is probably pretty obvious. Lya's turn! "No." While she paused initially, the patting of his thigh was all it took for the blonde to step farther along her path to the ledge, and, oh, maybe a touch more quickly, too! "Lya," trails firmly after the retreating teenager. She's making the wrong decision here and he's not going to let her escape the fact that he thinks so. He's also not going to call her a ride. So she'll either have to try flagging them down herself, reason with Reisoth directly, or freeze out there on the ledge. Well, only one of those options makes sense as a first resort. Her approach to the bronze is a little tentative, being not in the company of his rider (understandably). "Reisoth," she addresses him, politely even, "Would you please ask the elevator dragon to come fetch me?" Her request is earnest. Don't mind that vaguely fearful look she's casting over her shoulder toward the inner weyr. Reisoth lifts his head and tilts it just so to look at the girl who keeps intruding on their weyr so routinely. He makes no sound, however, and it's H'vier's voice that comes from inside, "He's not asking anyone anything. Get your ass in here before I get pissed off." He was having such a nice evening. Lya's hands go to her hips and she turns to glare toward the source of the voice, "Do you still want to do something stupid like ask me to sit on your lap?" She shouts back, before, as an aside, "Reisoth, I didn't vomit on you ever," clearly she's earned some good-will with the bronze, hasn't she? The great big bronze sighs out a heavy breath, then turns his head away, curling himself back up and abandoning the girl to his rider. Surely if he was actually worried for her well-being, he wouldn't do that, right? That or Reisoth just doesn't care about her. H'vier appears, still shirtless. "Inside," is all he says to her. Her eyes can't help but widen at the bronze, and maybe she swallows a little harder than usual, and yeah, maybe she glances over her shoulder at the ledge like maybe the nameless elevator dragon will heroically appear or like free-falling might be a better option, but after, she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin and dons a defiant expression (even though she's doing what he's telling her to do), and steps toward the inner weyr. She doesn't, however, let him get between her and the ledge; she's the kind of girl that likes to keep her options open. "You're an idiot," H'vier assures Lycinea. That's probably exactly what she wants to hear right now. "If I wanted to do something to you, there's not much you could do about it right now." Does he really need to remind her of that? Is him reminding her supposed to make her relax? "How much do you need?" Money, presumably. "You're patting your thigh for a sixteen turn old girl to sit on and I'm the idiot?" The aforementioned teenager demands, hands finding their way back to her hips. Lya looks up and away from him, her eyes on the ceiling - which, looking away from him is totally the non-idiot thing to do, along with coming here to begin with. "Just-- nevermind. I shouldn't've come to ask. Can you just call me a ride, please?" The fact that she's saying please means that she knows she's not in the strongest negotiating position just now. "Whatever you're thinking right now? That's not what I wanted." And if she's not going to tell him how much she wants, H'vier doesn't need to stand there to get her any money. So he turns back to the couch and flops back against it to stare at the fascinating fire in the hearth. If he happens to clear his throat and rub at his eyes, maybe it's just some dust or smoke in them. These things happen. "You didn't want me to sit in your lap?" Lycinea sounds disbelieving. Her eyes track him as he moves to the couch. But she'll give him some rope to hang himself with, why not! "What did you want?" Maybe, just maybe she's entertaining the notion that she might give it to him yet. She does come around to resume her spot standing in front of the fire to peer at him from there. H'vier isn't looking at Lya even though she's sort of standing near his line of sight. If his eyes are a little more red than they were a few minutes ago, at least he's not sobbing outright. That would be embarrassing. "Your ride is on their way." Lya's blue-green eyes blink as she takes in the sight of him. Her brow wrinkles and she shifts her weight uneasily. Then, drawing in a breath, she does something she might regret. She walks to the couch, and sits down, next to him, but letting her knee touch his. "I'll wait here." So she will still go, but... It's something. Her eyes flick toward his hand like she might take it, but doesn't move to do so yet. The bronzerider doesn't offer much reaction to her proximity at this point. That boat has kind of sailed. There's a slight waver in his low voice when he tells her, "You can go," though. The breath he draws in once that's out is a little ragged and he turns his head away from where his face is actually visible to Lycinea. Lycinea bites her lip. Then, "I can stay," she offers, reaching for that hand. His hand doesn't move away from hers. It doesn't move at all, really. H'vier's other hand moves, though, lifting up to rub over his face while he tries to compose himself. Falling apart in front of a teenage girl is probably not how he'd like to end his day. Lya-- might be lulled into a false sense of security by the lack of movement of that hand. She shifts, onto her knees on the couch and then turning about in one quick movement that ends with her arms around him, if a touch awkwardly. Maybe she's never hugged anyone before. While that might be what H'vier had wanted all along, there's tension before he relaxes. As much as he's apt to relax right now. Because something about the awkward hug, and the almost tentative way he tries to wrap an arm around her, is enough to pull a more genuine sob from his chest. If she's willing to stay there for a few moments, he'll get ahold of himself and then, letting go, say, "They're here." She might tense a little under the arm and her breath might quicken, but she doesn't move away; she has to have seen people hug before, hasn't she? Lya does stay, and she doesn't look at him when there's that sob. She stays put. When he lets go, her look up at his face is very earnest. "Want me to stay?" It's not an offer, but it's an offer. "No," comes quickly enough, even if it might not be entirely true. H'vier doesn't want her to stay to watch him cry. It's bad enough that she's seen this much. But he doesn't want to be alone, either. There's no happy medium there. "Go." They can talk about her dress later. Or she can end up with marks handed off to her by someone else and maybe they'll just never speak again after this. Lya looks at him a moment longer, possibly deciding if she believes him or not. Then she leans back in and, slightly less awkwardly, hugs him again, and says simply, "It's going to be okay." Doesn't everyone need to hear that sometimes? Then quickly, she's up and heading back out to the ledge, casting a look toward Reisoth along her way, one of quiet puzzlement, but at least it doesn't look like she's judging the bronzerider, for now. |
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