Logs:Someday L'vae Will Get to Misbehave
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| RL Date: 5 May, 2009 |
| Who: L'vae, Leova |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: L'vae and Leova steal a moment to catch up, regarding his family in particular. |
| Where: Kitchen, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 27, Month 9, Turn 19 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Anvori/Mentions, Carendie/Mentions, F'ren/Mentions, G'gor/Mentions, H'karu/Mentions, I'ro/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Malton/Mentions, R'lolli/Mentions, Ralli/Mentions, Rhonda/Mentions, Sh'dor/Mentions, Suireh/Mentions, U'zin/Mentions, Zeletta/Mentions |
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| Most of the way through a large meal that sprawls untidily through several adjacent nooks with benches pulled up to cap the ends, the large group's settled somewhat from earlier's antics featuring Rhonda and R'lolli, a pitcher of ale, a pair of dice, and a tunnelsnake pelt. Settled, at least, until F'ren has to, "Go, now, or I'll go on you!" near to the back of one nook. Which just gets him half-pushed by eager hands under the table en route to taking care of his bodily needs somewhere else. Which is when Leova slides over to steal his vacated spot, laughing up to now-her-neighbor L'vae. "Dibs!" "Brave," L'vae quips laughingly back, rolling out his shoulders to claim back a little of the space vacated by the pudgy bluerider. "Sure he didn't leak?" Asked with a mischievous wrinkle of his nose and leaned-back eyeing of the greenrider in her new seat. The pose only lasts a moment before the brownrider is swaying back to nudge an elbow into his friend's. Just kidding. And now that Leova is near enough to lean in a quiet comment, "Can't believe Rhonda rolled that many sevens. Does she have a trick for that?" There's a startled gasp, very dramatic, and a hurried reach for the cushion she's sitting on to go with it. But then Leova claims, "Dry. Very dry." A sidelong look teases, "Swap if you don't believe me..." and a slug of her own ale later, she's leaning back to listen, nodding, only to add a wry, "Has a trick for everything, seems like." While it's not quite a whisper, not quite likely to get her called out for whispering... never can tell around here. "At least R'lolli took it all right... reminds me. How's your sister?" That one. An exaggerated shake of his head leads into an even more ridiculously exaggerated tone. "Your word, madam, is incontrovertible." L'vae doesn't need another swig of his ale - this mug is almost gone, anyway. His fingers do dance along the glass, though, even if there's no longer any condensation to draw in. "He's a good guy like that," a sage nod starts to tip his chin but then the brownrider's head falls back until it rests against the nook's wall. "Ugh. Ralli." His eyes are rolling. So is his head, so he can slant his gaze back to Leova. "Infuriating." Toothy grin. "Fancy, fancy," the greenrider teases accordingly, only then, then... she puts down her glass so she can twist to eye her clutchmate, though her elbow rests on the back of the nook instead of her head. Safer. "Question is," this with bright eyes to go with her low drawl, "Whether it's more than uuusual." "Yesss." Rolling eyes, again. "Maybe it is a good thing she's never gotten married - who knows what she'd try to do for her own wedding." L'vae sighs, his mouth quirking helplessly. Hazel eyes shift to those fingertips which now still upon the glass and, as if motion were the only thing hovering them up so high, slip down to the base. "She's going to give Mum a heart attack," too quietly despairing for it to be a joke. There's a quiet chuckle from Leova, a, "Steal a harper as a hostage, get the job done on her own?" Only then, then as he goes on, her eyes narrow on the brownrider. She pauses. Turns her head to scan the crowd, which is still a crowd despite having thinned. Turns back. Her arm flexes hesitantly then, a barely-there swing of her forearm from the elbow that finally quits its back-and-forthing to lay her fingertips a short distance, a very short distance away from the tips of his hair. "L'vae?" "Yeah," absently, for Ralli's hypothetical elopement. The brownrider's fingers lift away from the glass and splay over his face a moment. When they've dropped away, L'vae has put a smile back on. "Sorry." Sheepish. He rolls his gaze back to Leova, the particular curve of his expression subtly aware of the crowd for all he doesn't follow her scan. Self-depreciatingly, "I probably worry too much." Even still. Once he's come out from hiding, Leova's hand slides just enough to touch his hair, his head, ever so lightly unless he objects, but she doesn't herself look directly at him: outward, instead, for any of these people that might be looking their way. Even though they're their friends. "She won't... ease up? Your mother." L'vae doesn't object. "It's not that," he says slowly, eyes turning up. Not exactly. "Mum does take all of the planning pretty seriously." His hand has lifted again above the plane of the table, gesturing along. "Ralli hasn't been involved in the preparations, really at all. It's more... the day of. I'm worried about." The hazel eyes have narrowed a little into a squint, frustration ticking on the corner of his mouth facing the wall. "Ralli keeps complaining about her dress, trying to make changes. And... and her date. I'm just worried she's going to embarrass the family." Then she runs her fingertips lightly over his skull as she listens, aiming for not so light as to tickle, not so heavy as to weight. Just, to reassure, to relax, whatever little bit that just maybe she can. "Her... date?" Leova's still looking outward, a little unfocused now. Her eyes only dart toward R'lolli briefly, briefly. "Surely she wouldn't hack off the skirt, or whatever, right there and then." "Oh, I don't know," L'vae says airily. He finally turns his gaze out as well, done slowly enough so that those soothing fingertips hopefully don't get displaced. The brownrider puts a little smirk on his lips since G'gor is leaning back from one table to point across to I'ro, he and U'zin loudly recounting the tale of their latest prank done at the bluerider's expense. "Ralli's never cared much for playing along with convention," he goes on in a wry tone. "And H'karu isn't exactly the sort of man to be taking home, especially not to a mother like mine. They're going to get drunk and loud and..." a whole host of horrible things will transpire, imagines his sigh. The terrible good-as-twins. While Leova doesn't entirely smile at them, not attentive enough for that, there gets to be a fond bent to the corner of her own mouth. That might be for the scalp beneath her nudging fingers, though, and the thin muscles that like to hide behind his skin. "Is that," Leova asks, "Going to be so different from every other party your family's had? Mightn't they be..." her fingers hesitate before her words do, but then both resume, "Near to getting used to it by now?" "There haven't really been any big events since I've brought dragonriders into the fold," L'vae notes with another twitch of his lips. He reaches out to drop fingers around his glass again. Fingernails drum. "Maybe it'll be fine." A long sigh lifts his chest. "Anyway." The smile flickers into a stronger line. "Don't mean to rain on the evening." Hazel eyes slide to take in Leova. "Mostly, things have been good. Seems in general, doesn't it?" A hand sweeps to take in what remains of the evening's happy gathering. "Things seem they have been going right again, right?" Leova's, "Mmm," might sound knowing if it weren't tinged with rue. "Well. Maybe it will. And if nothing else, people are bound to reckon she's a grown woman, right? Though. It does leave you to have to be the well-behaved rider, doesn't it," and here she peeks back at her friend before his gesture has her looking out. It takes a little while before, "Think so." Hope so. "Reminds me: was it you? Who gave Madilla a little something for her Turnday, all surprise-like." A chuckle echoes in the brownrider's chest. Grown. "Right." Not convinced. He'll nod, resigned to his lot of being the good one. Or appearing to be, anyhow. "Madilla?" An eyebrow lifts. "The young healer? No." He shakes his head, finally moving enough to reach out for the pitcher in the middle of the table to pour himself more ale. Of course, before he does so, it's lifted questioningly towards Leova's glass. "When was her Turnday?" And even more curiously, "what was the surprise?" "Someday, you'll get to misbehave? In public," Leova says with an agreeable nod to her glass, quite as though it were just a matter of taking turns. "And, no. Hm, I wonder who... maybe a month ago? Tea and sweets and a toy, she said. A note. Seemed like something you might," the greenrider adding that last with more diffidence, abandoned fingers curling slackly in the air. "Someday, perhaps. Give me another five turns," L'vae says with a quiet smile that doesn't make it to his eyes. It does seem to take a bit of effort for him to pour out the two glasses without sloshing. "Huh." That's for the gift. "It does, a little. A toy?" Taking his glass with him, he leans back towards those curling fingers again. "A secret admirer, you think?" Because that is always exciting, says the up-tick of his brows before he takes a sip. This time, he gets a pat to his non-pouring shoulder, quiet as her, "I hope so. Or less... wonder where we'll all be. Hard to believe it is five. Almost." She half-watches the foam fizz and pop, her hand gone still to help with the remembering. "Chin up, the note said. Seemed more... friendly? She liked it, anyhow." Where will they be? Now she's looking more at the people. "Chin up?" L'vae is a bit disappointed in this note. But if Madilla liked it, well, that's something worth a smile. "Five turns," the brownrider repeats as his grin edges wider. His head tilts towards Leova, so he can share his musings even more quietly. "Maybe by then, I'ro will have actually managed to get a girl to go home with him of her own free will." Lou is not giggling into his beer. "I, of course, will have a gorgeous man waiting at home for me every day. With dinner set out and the wine chilled." Of course. "And you?" He nudges lightly with an elbow. "Chin up," Leova agrees all over again, only to start laughing, herself, and the only reason why she isn't giggling into L'vae's beer is that he's holding it. Also, that she doesn't giggle. Much. She retrieves her hand so she can elbow him back almost as lightly, at least, and then get her drink back and get it partly drunk. "Question is, will he have an apron on? And... hmm. I will have a window in my weyr. Seeing as how autumn sneaked up on us, and it still didn't get done." She peeks sideways: this pass muster? L'vae considers while expertly preventing beer from coming out of his nose. And then considers a little more. "He can have an apron," the brownrider finally allows. The way he says it - well, his fears about Ralli aren't entirely unfounded. She has been a terrible influence. But, never mind that, because no. Not passing muster. The brownrider's eyes narrow. "But you already had the miner out and everything," L'vae prods again, wheedling. "What's been keeping you so busy? Numbweed parties with Madilla?" "So kind of you," Leova teases, and then aims to give him another nudge in lieu of elaborating on what kind of apron L'vae's gorgeous man should wear: obviously Ralli hasn't been enough of a terrible influence on her. Well, aside from, "Short or long?" Maybe that will distract from the wheedling? Maybe? Not enough? "No, no numbweed parties with Madilla. No slumber parties with Madilla... Didn't I mention? Can't remember if I mentioned." A quick glance around. "But it's not his fault." Deliberately misunderstanding, "Leova!" is breathed in a low tone. So scandalous. L'vae takes a prim little sip of his beer. It doesn't work so well, that low-brushed lash look, with something as butch as beer. But, indeed, he is not to be distracted! "Did you mention?" Not enough for him to be sure, anyway. He actually leans a little away - sprawling a bit more in his seat. Because somehow that seems the more likely way to avoid the eavesdropping of their nearby friends. "His fault - the miner's?" More blinking innocence. And then, more seriously, "who shouldn't I be blaming?" The greenrider shuts her eyes for a long moment, and then she has to laugh, "Aren't you in a mood. S'nice. Anyway... no, no, not the miner's." He may have leaned away, but she doesn't lean in, though her voice is soft enough that its less audible that way. "Told you about, well. About seeing Anvori?" "Anvori?" Brows go up. "You said... you didn't say seeing." L'vae's smile is skewing to one side and he can't help looking at her. Even if it is less sly that way. "That's who's been keeping you from your window? In your weyr?" Slight emphasis on the possessives, there. But, he's lifting his glass. Which glass was this, again? Anyway. Cheers-like. "There's a man that looks good in an apron, I bet. I don't suppose I'd care much about windows, either." "L'vae." Leova gives him the eye, and for a few moments there, she even keeps her mouth from tugging to the side. "No, no, he hasn't. Hasn't that much time, what with the girls, and all. It's been more, well, that I still haven't..." Automatically she lifts her glass, only then she has to set it down, and laugh, fighting off a blush. "Yes. Yes, he... Yes. Stop that. You're making me all... all... You know," and surely a quick gulp can fight off further requirement to comment. L'vae eyes right back, although his look is more of a steady sideways thing. That one dimple, it isn't going anywhere. But he does eventually relent, in the form of taking a long swig from his own beer. When he sets it down, it's not aligned with its previous ring on the table. "The girls." Said more softly, hints of teasing gone. "I remember, you said..." but he leaves the thought hanging, that once-upon-a-time memory, instead opting for a simpler question. "How is that working out? For you." By then, her fluster's managed. Leova's nod, that downward inclination, turns into a press of her head into her hand as she leans on her elbow, set most firmly on the table. The greenrider asks, "Which?" And, "So far? Well." The corner of her smile turns up, all over again. With different intonation, it could just be arch, wholly innuendo, "'S funny. The more I see of him, the more I like him." Which? L'vae tilts his head in mild confusion. But, what she says after. That kind of makes the rest a little moot. That one dimple's twin shows up, the brownrider's brows tipping upwards in a way that says 'aww'. "Leova." Aww. Because while innuendo is fun, there's no question that he's a romantic at heart. "So his having the children, it isn't scaring you away," he surmises, touching back to that earlier question after all. Lou reaches to stroke a hand down her spine. "That's good. So good. I'm so happy for you." The happy, it crinkles about his eyes. An audibly released sigh, as he slides his hand down like that, seems to melt all the bones along the way until she's just laying her head on the table, crossed forearms her only pillow as she peeks out at the brownrider with half an eye. "Not too much. Yet. But then, nothing's really... stated? Had dinner, with the girls and all, but it's not like... come, be their auntie-like-their-mother-but-not. The chair has g-u-e-s-t on it. Suireh wrote it. You should see." The heel of his hand slides to see if there's any tension left to melt in her lower back while L'vae nods. "She didn't really?" he laughs, caught between believing in the whimsy of little girls and Leova's ability to tease. "Well, that sounds good? Take it slow, right? But not secret." Now he does reach out to twists his glass back into its ring. "What does Vrianth think?" The question cants the curious grayed hazel gaze back to the half-eyed greenrider. There is, as there always is. Her back sways concave under his hand, but there's only so far as it can go. "Theirs have their names," Leova explains all languid-like to the tabletop, to the bottom of his glass. "So it fits... and she likes it better when it's our ledge, Vrianth does." So if, at times, her green has sought Bremuth's visit for the night, perhaps that's part of why. That question, though, and his looking at her, mean it's that much easier to look at him on the last word when she says, "Quiet, but... no, not a secret." And lifts her eyebrows at him. Inquiringly. "An everything-in-its-place sort of girl, is she?" L'vae notes idly as knuckles roll into the muscles along the curve of Leova's spine. Not too hard. "Can imagine," he says of Vrianth and her ledge. "She seems to be in... better spirits? Though." Vrianth does. Compared to earlier in the turn, anyhow. The greerider's lifted eyebrows make the brownrider's smile narrow and twist. "Secrets don't tend to work out so well. In my experience." "Let's just say..." and when she can breathe properly again, "Lucky she hasn't taken against me." The corner of Leova's mouth turns up even if her words have faded some, to match her nod for better, but her eyes stay open to see him and then all through her reply. "Wish it didn't have to be that way," she says in lieu of prying directly. "And... and your mother. I know, Ralli, but is it something the healers...?" "I see," L'vae says with a lift of his eyebrows. "Calls Ky to mind." A little. But, she's looking at him like that and so he has to look back. A finger tap-taps against the glass. "I need to introduce you to Malton." Because change does come, if slowly. Very slowly, because of his mother. Mention of her finally turns his eyes away. Or maybe it's that I'ro is hollering from the other table: 'Leova, you haven't passed out already have you?' The brownrider shakes his head and brushes a dismissive wave towards his wingmate. Possibly, the others might think his quiet words to Leova are some unkind comment on their blueriding clutchmate. The rueful quirk of Lou's lips might even encourage that. "There's nothing they can really do. They say diet, avoiding stress..." His chin gives another little shake, voice dropping even lower. "I don't know exactly, but she really is at risk for a heart attack." Which lifts her eyebrows slightly higher... but later, later. "Malton." Leova tries out the name, the hook to her mouth reappearing but softer now. And that's before she delivers a gift to I'ro, a one-fingered salute that doesn't require her bothering to look up at all. "Is she... is she doing at least what she can? What you said. What she eats." Further hesitation. "Your father." Ah, communicating with I'ro in his own language. Probably more effective than anything else would be. L'vae hardly notices, since he's gone back to playing with his glass. Nodding. "I think she is. For the most part. When she's not, you know, visiting other people. And she's kept on Carendie after she returned to Tillek, so she has help running the household. Father." The brownrider takes a breath, fingertips lifting to rest against his temple. "I don't know. I'm not sure he's capable of taking it easy. The concept just isn't part of his reality." "From what you said before, her no longer visiting might have meant more worry than just about anything," Leova only half-teases. She spares a nod for Carendie and her help, for its importance. "If a healer spoke to him... but surely they would have tried that," and that's only half too, but this time half a question. Accordingly, L'vae only half-chuckles. "To be fair," not that his father has ever particularly worried about fairness, "if he were around the house all the time, that might be even worse than the familiar stress of keeping up with the social rounds and obligations." His hand lifts away in a helpless gesture. But he's saved (or Leova is saved) from further bemoaning the dynamics of his parents by the table-hopping of yet another of their clutchmates. "Are you two really passing out over here?" Sh'dor asks with an easy grin as he appears and slides into the end seat vacated by Leova all that time ago. "Just boring Leova with my family," the brownrider says cheerfully, pushing the pitcher towards the bluerider's empty glass. "Is Zeletta telling the story about the llama, yet?" And the night goes on. |
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