Logs:Real
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| RL Date: 6 December, 2015 |
| Who: Lys, V'ret |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: H'vier is remembered by two people who called him friend. Complicated matters are candidly discussed (mostly). |
| Where: Spinners' Haunt Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 6, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: H'vier/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions |
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| Lys' exit from the living cavern after dinner wasn't anything special, but the fact that her return to the barracks is only long enough to get Evyth's straps and get permission for a little extra flying practice is odd for a routine that sees her thoroughly (unhappily) into her books by now. The straps are checked again and again and then the pair is off, but instead of just flight, Evyth angles to practice landing on one of the unoccupied ledges, one that just so happens to have once belonged to Reisoth. That's where she stays. Zoth is usually such an observant fellow, but the major exception to that is when he's hunting. Which, having eaten earlier, he shouldn't need to be doing; at least for once he settles for just scaring a few of the beasts instead of making unneccessary kills. One of V'ret's few successes in reining him in, but it's kept him out by the feeding grounds, instead of at dinner. He should go get dinner, but the caverns are still apparently too busy for his tastes. Instead, a side trip. Zoth lands not too far from Evyth, neatly, more precise than he has any right to be at his age, but V'ret is several long moments in making a decision about what to do. How patient is he? Eventually there's a dismount, instead of calling to her directly from his dragon. "You feeling okay?" He crosses over to beside the green. In the time that it's taken Zoth to land on that particular ledge, the green's rider has dismounted, but she hasn't moved from where she presses herself against her lifemate, quietly stroking her paisley-patterned neck where the itches are the worst. She turns just a little when Zoth lands, Evyth warbling a warm greeting to the bronze, but she doesn't make immediate overtures to the bronzerider. She waits for him to dismount, waits for him to speak, and only then does she turn to lean her back against her dragon and look at him, chin tilted down expression unreadable. "A little ill, but-" she shifts something in her mouth, "the lemon candy is helping." Motion sickness is probably not what V'ret meant, but it's easier than the rest. "Scoping out the best weyrs, too?" She tries for light, for humor, but it falls flat with the way she can't help but look toward the inner weyr and a deep sadness shows in her eyes. Zoth's greeting is considerably more restrained, but his interest is more in what he can see from this vantage point than in his clutchmate. "I saw Evyth, thought... perhaps you could use the company." Nobody gave V'ret any advice about lemon candy and honesty, but he sells it, voice so gentle the wind almost runs off with it. A hand held out that clearly expects hers. "Maybe you'd feel better for a few moments to sit down, where it isn't so breezy," optimistic description of the ledge, though the bulk of two dragons helps a bit. Lys' lips press against one another as her blue-green gaze drops to that hand. She considers it a long moment before tentatively reaching to take it. "I'm not sure I'm going to be very good company here," she admits even as she steps away from Evyth's comforting bulk. For once, the green doesn't seem inclined toward chatter, her attention directed inward and to her rider. Lys will let herself be led after her acquiescing nod into the weyr if that's where V'ret intends. "Jocelyn moved into her new weyr today. It got me thinking about the places that would be left for us once the older weyrlings have all picked." She manages to sound casual and conversational relating these things, whatever emotions that brought her here, hidden away for now. His hand is cooler than one might expect, but perhaps it's the wind. "I can be company good enough for the both of us." V'ret's voice occupies a space that is pleasant without getting all the way to chipper. Heading inside renders the wind less biting, and he starts to look around with a restrained sort of interest. Certainly doesn't seem like he's been up here before. "I've been mostly just hoping to get somewhere that can be rendered comfortable. I've never had space to myself before." The blonde doesn't buy it, or at least looks suitably dubious enough to suggest as much, though she doesn't voice it. There's something to that look that suggests she might be challenging it for the sake of challenging it rather than any deeply formed belief. As they enter, Lys' shiver might be felt through their joined hands, her free one lifting to wrap around her middle; maybe she's just cold. "I didn't expect this much of his furniture to still be here," is a murmur once they've passed into the inner weyr beyond the wallow. Her eyes fall to the couch, the table, the sideboard, the bed and she bites her lip, hard. She probably doesn't realize she's stopped breathing. And the face she gets back is the eyebrows raised, the smile, the you-know-some-women-think-I'm-good-company sort of look, but with the good taste not to say so aloud. It tempers, anyway, as they enter, and at some point V'ret transfers the hand he's holding to his opposite hand, to allow the arm around her shoulders. It takes a minute to find the right words. "Deep breath," soft reminder. "Was it serious?" Her eyes flick to V'ret's face at the reminder and what comes is a shuddering breath, not because of tears but because she held her breath that long. The second one is smoother. "It was complicated," Lys answers after a few more breaths. "He pushed everyone away. It--" her arm abandons her middle and her hand comes up to first touch her cheek and then to tuck a lock of short blonde hair behind her ear as her head ducks a little, "It didn't take." She didn't let it. "Did you know him?" It's not a question that digs, just a question. He's here with her, after all, for her. Her hand flexes in his as if she might be finding it suddenly constrictive, but she doesn't yet make move to pull hers away. "He was an acquired taste. He was my... friend, after a fashion." Not that there aren't plenty of heavy drinkers who would say that about their bartenders, but it's a little more unusual to hear a bartender say that about a customer. "I think he was a better man than he thought he was." He may or may not just be saying that. V'ret's not got any serious hold of her; the lightness of the contact suggests he considers her fragile. The first prompts a smile, but one she didn't mean to have, honestly earned by V'ret, and Lys forces it away again, even if some of it lingers at the edges of her lips. "He was the bronzerider who used to buy me clothes," she puts name to the admission in the stores. She does withdraw her hand now, but only (it seems) because she's moving to his sideboard table to search the cabinets there. They might've left some of his booze behind, mightn't they? (No.) "I think he was a better man than he thought he was too. I think he tried to tell himself he was nice to me because he hoped I'd sleep with him, but I don't think that was really all there was to it." Mind that she doesn't say that wasn't a part of it. "But you didn't." It's not precisely a question. More like someone putting an answer to a problem of simple arithmetic. Two plus two is four. V'ret is not a complete idiot? He lets her go, shifts to lean against a wall. Half watching her at her search, half still sometimes glancing around, taking in what's left of the place. "And now..." That sentence is better left unfinished. It probably would have been better not even started, but it slips through that far. "I'm sorry." Lys doesn't make answer to the first, probably because she's not the sort laud simple mathematics (or much of anything else that's simple, really). The cabinets are empty and she leaves the doors open shifting from crouch into a seat on her rear, legs extended in front of her. She leans back on her hands, heedless of the fine layer of dust the weyr has acquired in the absence of anyone living here. She looks over at the man and says quietly, but clearly, "And now he's dead. And I'm still angry with him." She casts her eyes to the ceiling. It's probably the dust kicked up by her search that makes her eyes a little bit teary, but she's not crying. "He was angry with me. It's fitting that we'll always be now, I guess." The length of time that V'ret has been looking at her has probably long past crossed into staring. Apparently he can't be convinced to pretend that the ceiling is more interesting. "He's not angry with anyone, now. You... can be angry as long as you need to be." Once upon a time, playing therapist might have gotten him tips. Old habits die hard. He moves over to take up a seat next to her, dust or no dust. "Doesn't have to be forever." "Doesn't matter now if it is, does it?" It's only just barely a question. On the ledge, Evyth shifts uneasily. Lys turns her head to look more directly at the bronzerider, but apparently she's comfortable taking her turn at staring at him now. A slight lift of the shoulders. Barely a shrug. "You're prettier when you smile," V'ret observes, though this is maybe too obvious a thing to have said; he frowns. "But you've no reason to care the least bit about pleasing me, of all people. No. I am just as shallow as anyone who would be substantially less concerned if I didn't find you attractive. You should be happy for your own sake." Through this, now, he's suddenly found reasons the opposite wall's really interesting. "It's difficult to do if you're holding a grudge." Lys doesn't smile at the first, though a single brow twitches upward in a wordless really?. Perhaps oddly, though, by the end of his words she's got a small smile, a deeply amused in spite of herself sort of smile. "I meant, it doesn't matter because he's gone." A rather more simple question than the one V'ret made answer to. She pushes off her hands and draws her legs in to adopt a similar position to how he's sitting. "I don't take compliments well," is an admission that's probably meant to be helpful. "If you took them better, I would be giving you more of them." V'ret offers her a hand again, palm up. With no obvious intention of standing anytime soon, it can't masquerade as purely supportive. "There's a certain sort of pattern I know, with women, and this isn't it. I'm better at compliments. At pretty things. At cocktails with bits of fruit balanced on the rim. They're very impressive. At least, a lot of girls think they're impressive. You..." With a breath stolen, Lys scoots a little closer and turns herself so she's facing him, using both of her hands to curl around the one he's offered and study it. Maybe she's reading his future, given the way her fingertips seek to trace the lines of his palm. "I-" she seems to be finishing his thought, given her intonation and the way she pauses, though it could be just because she has to gather some measure of guts to finish with a candid, "-think you're cute when you overthink things." The simple question that got a complex answer, for example. That that was difficult for her to admit is evidenced by the deep blush she's probably pretending isn't there. The hand is yielded up easily, for whatever use. Within reason. The lines on his palm, they are complicated things. Evidently V'ret doesn't have the grace not to notice the blush, not from the way he starts smiling. "Yes, well. I had too many months to be doing a lot of thinking and very little doing." The blonde's hands still on V'ret's. With her chin still tilted down from her study of it, she looks up at him. "Another girl might be ready to do a lot of things with you in a lot less time than I would be." It's practically a kind statement for Lys to make. "Technically," and the way he says it, V'ret dislikes admitting to this, "it's still against the rules at the moment, anyway. I'm in no hurry." This particular variety of patience is not the easiest of them, nor is that the best of his lies, but the smile is easy nevertheless. "After waiting this long, maybe it seems like the next one should be worth the wait." It's a little too smooth, but at least it's sweet. That smoothness? That has Lys' lashes moving in a flutter that pairs with the press of a smile that says, again, that she's not buying what he's selling. "Do you always use what you think are the right answers?" It's curious. "I probably would be happier if you just told me the real answer," which doesn't even necessarily mean the true answer, "even if it was that you'd find those other girls when you needed them." The smile might be the only thing that keeps the tension in his shoulders from turning into more. "I would, if I needed one of them, but I don't, at least not right now." But it's not unguarded; V'ret is still careful with his words, though at least he says them while looking at her face. Studying it, for just a moment. "If you tell me it's going to be another decade before you're ready, well." That might be different. Lys's eyes are studying his as he speaks, but she seems unbothered by the response. "I'm a greenrider," she murmurs, "I thought I might put it off forever, but it'll have to be sooner than that now." Her gaze moves briefly toward the ledge and then back to V'ret, "But I'd be lying if I said I was more eager than scared. And I hear virgins are shit in bed." Just in case she needs to sell herself more. It can't be said that V'ret doesn't look a little bit pleased, but it's a muted smile. For the first time since he sat down, he chances touching more than just her hand, a brush of fingers over her knee. "Nothing to be scared of. I can't say my first was amazing, but--you just need another party who knows what they're doing. If I'd realized--I thought you just didn't like me that much. Yet." "Maybe I don't," Lys has to say it or lose her street cred. It doesn't stop the blush from darkening. "Maybe I just know I'll need someone and you're--" convenient? She could say it. Instead, it's-- "I don't know. I felt--" Words are hard. She puts light pressure on her fingertips, pressing into his palm as if it might give a place for some of her sudden anxiety to go. "I felt like a regular girl, after we talked," she finally manages, but looks unhappy with the explanation. "I tried to figure out something you said when I should've been studying. I've never really done that before." And it's embarrassing and awkward and annoying (so says her face) and it makes her hands start to slip away. A sad face, a hand-to-the-heart gesture like V'ret has really been wounded by this. Conveniently, he has to pull his hand away from hers to do it. "Well, I'll be whatever you need me to be." Except, apparently, sitting, because he's started to get back to his feet. "But hopefully not too much a distraction." He does at least offer her the hand again, this time for more practical use, in case she feels like following. His last has another one of those unwilling smiles pulled forth and placed on her lips. The roll of her eyes that accompanies it might be as much for her own reaction as for the words themselves. Lys does take his hand and use it to pull herself up. "Can we-- not forget that I barely know you? It seems like the kind of thing that's important but can get lost." There's a little tug to his hand as if to make sure he's not going anywhere yet and she's stays standing rather close, if not intimately so. "We have been sleeping in the same room for over four months now. It should count for something." With a smile, because it's a joke, though perhaps not enough of one to reflect that V'ret has not precisely done well with this whole weyrling bonding thing, and perhaps a lot of things would be different if he had. He squeezes her hand back, there. "Anyway, we have time for... getting acquainted beforehand." Indulgent. He seems to think it's entirely natural for this to be several steps down the line. "It does," Lys leans in a little as if she might be imparting some secret, "It counts for us having been sleeping in the same great big room for over four months now with a lot of bodies and dragons between us." The smile she wears briefly is cheeky, humor lighting her features. "And I know you're a bronzerider and everything, but just so you know, my panties haven't run screaming toward the floor yet in a fit of female weakness, and I think they'll hold out if turns out this isn't a good fit. Don't get ahead of yourself," is good advice, but still, she'll lean onto tiptoes with the intention of placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. While V'ret does dip his head, it's only to close the distance, and there's no funny business. Not even if her mouth is right there. Making assumptions on the one hand, doing absolutely nothing about them on the other. "I will absolutely remember that," he says as he straightens. "Good," is simple appreciation. Lys awards V'ret a soft sort of smile. "Thanks, for being here." That seems genuine, but so does, "I think I want a little time alone here. See if I can summon his ghost." That's wry, but as likely to be true as not. It doesn't make him bat an eyelash. "Well, if you manage it, give him my regards. Tell him I'm doing the best I can." V'ret lets her go, then, without any protest, and heads back for his dragon, who is obviously pleased to get back to his evening's activities which had so rudely been interrupted. |
Comments
Jo (03:07, 7 December 2015 (PST)) said...
Loving this dynamic right here! Awesome, guys~
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