Logs:Placeholder
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 26 March, 2015 |
| Who: Lycinea, Z'riah |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Z'riah is proddy. Lya is not thrilled to be helping. |
| Where: Inner Caverns and Ready for Roommates Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 12, Month 5, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, H'vier/Mentions, R'oan/Mentions, Tayte/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Back-dated. |
  |
| It's been a little while since Z'riah and Lya have spent any quality time together, so when he notices her further ahead in the caverns, the greenrider trots his way up to fall into place beside her, an arm moving to catch her around the shoulders as he says, "Are you busy? I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever and I miss you, Lya." Does she recognize that needy voice for what it is yet? As is typical, Lya tenses when confronted with unexpected physical contact, but the hunch of shoulders vanishes as she recognizes the greenrider. "That's because we haven't and for some inexplicable reason, you like me." She explains the whys of both feelings for him. "I was just going to get something to eat, but I'm done for the day." So, free-ish, anyway! "It is inexplicable. But I could say the same for you." Z'riah assumes she likes him, anyway, because she's not yet complaining. "Do you have your own room, yet? It seems like you should really have your own room by now. Can I eat with you?" The greenrider looks at her with his big, blue eyes. Pleaaaase. "Still roommates." Lya tells him without apology. "I'm weird, that makes it perfectly explicable on my end," she counters without challenge to her liking him. They are friends after all! "Sure. Only I want to not eat in the caverns. I'm still avoiding Farideh. We could take food back to your weyr?" "Ugh," is the actual word he says about roommates. It's probably not a commentary on his own roommate, especially since he doesn't mention the bluerider when he says, "Yes! My weyr. That's perfect. We can eat. And my bed is there. Why're you avoiding Farideh?" Z'riah lets Lya lead them to where she wants to get the food from, anyway. The blonde gives him a solid side-eye; she might assume he's been drinking given the sniff she leans in to unabashedly give him. "Because she's ruining my life," Lya levies the charge despite the fact that Farideh hasn't been doing anything. "I don't want to talk about her." Or, evidently much else in this sullen moment. Beyond the necessary talk for the logistics of getting food from the kitchen and making it up to Z'riah's shared weyr, Lya has nothing much to say until she's finished having her fill. Z'riah might very well babble on regardless of whether Lya engages with him or not. That doesn't seem to matter very much to him at the moment and it's not as though he says anything of much importance. He does, at least, shut up once there's food to carry and a dragon to ride up to his weyr and then food to eat. And, in the end, the greenrider is sprawled across a bean bag chair with his head hanging upside down off of one end. "I don't think that helped." "Helped with what?" Even if it can't have escaped that something is 'off' about the greenrider, Lya hasn't seemed to put it together either. The tension lines in her expression have eased now that she's eaten, sitting on the floor, fingers dragging over Fluffy's dark coat. "Yizi." That's the only answer that comes to mind for Z'riah, initially. He doesn't move from his awkward position on the beanbag even when he adds, "Should be soon, anyway. Maybe tomorrow." There's a pretty good chance Lya won't be trapped in his weyr with him when the green rises, anyway, which is really best for both of them. Lya looks puzzled at the first, and even gets so far as saying, "Soon?" Then, revelation: "Oh." And, glumly, "Oh." She's sighing as she gets up, abandoning the cat and plodding toward Z'riah's bed. The greenrider lifts his head to look at Lya when she gets up. It's not until he realizes where she's going that he sits up properly then pops up to his feet to follow her with more than a little enthusiasm. Z'riah comes to the bed just as she is, but instead of waiting for her to climb in, he reaches out to catch her by the shoulder and turn her toward him, moving to meet her with every intention of pressing his lips against hers. Ever the unexpected. Perhaps Lya would do better to begin to expect men to claim her lips such that she might be more prepared to fend them off. As is, she's wholly unprepared when Z'riah turns her and presses the pair of them together. It's become reflex now that when this happens, she bites, her hands coming up this time to press against his sides to try to push him away, only perhaps because this is Z'riah and not some old man, she doesn't press hard, only seeks to break the kiss. Only this is Z'riah and biting makes him groan a sound that's not just pained. He doesn't immediately recognize the hands for what they're trying to do, but he stops when he does, breathing harder in the wake of unexpected excitement. "I'm sorry," is murmured with breathy sincerity and a hint of belated shame. He's not moving away from her, though, not taking his hand off of her. But he's definitely not kissing her anymore. And this is where a flushed Lya beats him about the head and shoulders with her ineffectual blows. Her words are punctuated by thumps, "What- is- wrong- with- you-?!" Another few for good measure. "Go lie down," she points an imperious finger toward his bed. For his part, Z'riah doesn't really defend himself from her unhappy hands other than tucking his head toward his chest and looking appropriately admonished. The question goes unanswered because, really, Z'riah couldn't say what's wrong with him even if he wanted to. The last, at least, gets some movement and the greenrider is moving to crawl into bed, stretching out on his stomach and tucking his head into the crook of his arm. "You're gay!" is what Lya has to say as she whirls and sits down on the end of the bed, her face hiding in her hands and elbows coming to rest on her knees in one smooth motion. "I'm not gay," is a little muffled by his arm and the bed because Z'riah doesn't want to lift his head up right now. That also means he's not watching Lya have her little breakdown or whatever it is, either, at least! "You ride a green dragon," Lya tells him dismissively as if she almost certainly knows his sexual proclivities better than he does. She scrubs her face. "Why do men keep kissing me?" It's rhetorical. "They never want me anyway. Why am I always in the wrong place at the wrong time? And you-" The word is ferociously accusatory as she twists to glare at Z'riah. "You know better. That is not part of the deal. What on Pern would make you think it was suddenly on the table, no matter how pretty you are?" This is a real question and she stares daggers at him waiting for his answer. Something she says finally does make Z'riah lift his head and twist enough to look at her. Enough so he can totally see those daggers she's sending his way. "What do you mean they don't want you? You're the one that doesn't want any of us." And it's so very sad. "I got excited," is a pretty horrible excuse, as excuses go. "And I told you I get friendly." He remembers that much, at least. That or he just knows he warns people about it. "Why can't kissing be on the table?" "No!" Lya counter vehemently. Then, "Well, yes, but also no!" With a frustrated growl, she turns and climbs onto the bed a bit further on her knees before sitting back on her feet. "They don't want me. H'vier wants Tayte, R'oan wants... well, who the fuck knows. But not me. He barely even noticed me before he up and decided to kiss me. And you... you're just--" She stops, glaring at him, before pointing out, "I don't even have a penis!" Z'riah shifts so he can sit up properly and look at Lya, but he definitely doesn't move closer. "I don't know who R'oan is. And H'vier can't have Tayte. She's engaged to some hot guy now." Maybe describing said guy as hot isn't the best course of action for the rest of what he says, "I'm not gay, Lya. If I was gay, I wouldn't have been sleeping with Tayte to begin with, would I? I'm with girls all the time. And people can want more than one person. They can love more than one person. I love lots of people." Well, a couple, anyway. "You slept with Tayte?" Lya's expression is appropriately disgusted. "And she's engaged? What is wrong with all of you? Why are you all alway bumping uglies and what is so wrong with just not?!" Lya's temper has soared again and as it goes, she falls flat on her stomach, burying her faces in her arms. Notably, she doesn't address Z'riah's claimed sexual orientation. The proddy greenrider looks a little hurt by something Lycinea says, but it might mean more that he doesn't defend himself beyond a quietly uncertain, "I just like feeling good." Z'riah scoots back, further away from the blonde, to lean against the headboard. He watches Lya, but doesn't seem sure what to say to her now. "But," says Lya with a measure of hurt of her own. She pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks at him imploringly, "Shouldn't who you feel good with matter, Zif? It doesn't make any sense for you to want to feel good with me. I'm just here and that's not a good enough reason, is it?" She stares at him, her blue-green eyes wide. His gaze lifts a little bit, head still tilted down, and it makes him look not unlike a sad, guilty canine. "Nobody I want has ever wanted me back. Not the same way. I get it where I can." Feeling good, presumably. "And you say that no one wants you for you, Lya. But nobody wants me for me, either." Z'riah probably means that he can sympathize. To some extent, anyway. Lya is back up on her knees in a heartbeat. "Well, I might have!" It's a squeak that has the girl flushing pink from ears down through her chest. "If you'd given me a chance, and if you weren't in love already." With a man. "Ugh!" The blonde flops back down, rolling onto her side. Her arms cross over her chest tightly as she angry glares at the wall for a breath before grousing, "If we're going to cuddle, let's get on with it." Z'riah winces at that admission as though she's actually struck him. And not in the way he'd usually enjoy. His gaze shifts to look at the other wall and the greenrider draws his knees up to wrap his arms around them. "I'll have Yizi get you a ride," is what he answers after a few moments, sounding emotional and definitely not moving to take advantage of her offer. "Oh, Zif," Lya sighs his name, but pitiously. She's rolling onto her back, the anger falling away in the wake of wanting to comfort him. She moves to his side with the intention of slipping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing in an awkward hug (unless he shifts enough to make it a proper one). "You wouldn't have liked being wanted by me anyway," she tries, attempting a tone of comforting reassurance. Something about the way she says his name, and maybe the way she tries to comfort him, makes him sob more properly. But Z'riah is trying very hard to hold himself in check, which is even harder in his current state. "You--" He takes a deep breath, leaning into her hug despite the fact that some part of him wants to lean the other way. "You don't have to say that." That she might have wanted him in the first place, under other circumstances. The hug tightens, no matter how awkward the positioning might be. "Zif, I say a lot of things I don't have to say. This one happens to be true. I told you before you're the first guy I've found even remotely attractive, and that's a step toward wanting a person, isn't it?" She can't be sure, but it seems logical. "I like you. Maybe I don't like-like you, but I'm not sure I ever would, or could, anyway, with anyone, but I like you." She sighs, shifting to try to make things less awkward without landing herself in his lap or something that would definitely equal more awkward. "I just wish you liked yourself a little more." Her tone is sad, a little resigned, like she's pretty sure she can't help him with that. "I like you, too, Lya," says Z'riah, but his voice comes out as kind of an unenthusiastic sigh. He doesn't move to help anything be less awkward, but he doesn't seem to care about awkwardness very much, either. "I'm fine," he adds, sounding resigned, too. "Your ride should be here in a minute." Because he apparently asked Yizibeth when he said he would. "I don't want a ride," Lya answers. "Send them away. Unless you're sending me away." The blonde gives him a challenging sort of look. "You should go," he tells her, but it's not really him sending her away. "I kind of want to be alone." Z'riah glances at her, but doesn't hold that challenging look for more than a few seconds. When he looks away, he starts to shift, scooting down so he can lay on his side, facing away from her. "Why? So you can feel bad about yourself without my comforting you because you don't feel like you deserve it?" Lycinea questions in a way that suggests she's not at all about to do what Z'riah wants her to do and leave. "I don't," is the only response Z'riah gives Lya, but he also doesn't insist she go meet her ride, so maybe he sent them away, after all. "Ugh, you so do!" Unassailable logic that. Lya moves now to try to push him from his side to his stomach so she can straddle his hips and plant her hands on his back. "This is the dumbest argument we've ever had and that includes the time we argued over what your pickle," an actual pickle, "looked like. The answer still isn't penis." For the record. In his current state, Z'riah doesn't have much resistance in him. He's pushed over easily, moving his arms to fold under his head and not even saying anything about Lya's position. There is a small puff of breath that might have been a laugh, though, which is a step up for possibly crying at any moment. "Like you'd know," he murmurs, more teasing than dejected, if only just. "I do so know. I live in a Weyr," where people get naked when they bathe. Lya looks uncomfortable a moment, "and anyway, pickles look less weird than penises." Fact. She presses her hands into his back, and moments later, she's engaged in a bit of amateur massage (which is arguably a lot more innocent than amateur other things they could be doing). Even depressed Z'riah has opinions on penises. Fortunately for Lycinea, he only snorts a barely audible protest of her thoughts. If he has any protests of her amateur massage, though, none are very obvious. The proddy greenrider probably doesn't even care if it hurts here and there at her hands; being touched is nice. Lya is quiet through her touching, and in no rush to be done. Her hands do more than just massage, they explore the planes of his back, and eventually slip beneath is short, brushing skin to skin. He knows better than to let himself vocalize any good feelings, or at least assumes that wouldn't be good for Lya's continued touching, which is what he doesn't want to stop. So Z'riah is silent until her hands touch his skin. There's a brief tension, but only because he's worried about asking, "Can I take my shirt off?" Even as one hand reaches for the nape of said shirt in preparation of pulling it off over his head. Lya's hands pause, palms touched flat to his back lightly. "Yes," she allows after a breath. Once the shirt is out of the way, she lets her hands continue across his skin, massaging but also tracing the shapes of the muscle there. After some time (probably a half hour or so), the blonde leans down and brushes her lips lightly just where the curve of his neck meets his shoulder on his back before sitting back up. Z'riah settles into silence once his shirt is off and Lya continues. There's a good chance he expected his shirt coming off to be the end of it because he seems relieved when it's not. The greenrider relaxes considerably under her touch and, judging by his almost complete lack of reaction, he might have dozed off by the time her lips brush his shoulder. The kiss seems to be the end of it really, for after sitting a moment, looking down at him, Lya shifts to slide off of his hips and moves to stretch out beside him, turning her face away from him. Maybe she'll sleep too! Her sliding off of him is just enough to rouse the greenrider into turning in her direction and reaching a hand in her direction. It stops as soon as he's touching her and then Z'riah is out again. Who knows what Lya was expecting? Her breath catches when the hand reaches out and falls on her back. The breath is held until it's apparent 'that's it.' Then she bites her lower lip hard and buries her face in the blankets. She's not crying. Nope. |
Leave A Comment