What wasn't said
Scene: R'vain drops by for a visit. Aivey is restless. What possibly could go wrong?
Players: R'vain and Aivey
Place: Aivey's cell
Some vulgar content behind the link
Old Empty Storeroom
Small and rather dusty, this room is just what the name implies. It used to be another storage space for the various odds and ends used by folk regularly enough to warrant its own room. Only problem was it was too far away from most of the residential areas, so it was cleaned out and had a few modifications made to it. For instance, there are no shelves, the rugs and any tapestries have all been removed, and the door locks from the outside. A thick metal ring has been embedded in the wall off in one corner so only half of it juts out, a perfect loop for sturdy rope or a chain. There's one glowbasket up on a wall, but it's empty.
There's something in the air, something in the food or Aivey is just too restless for her own good. She currently attempts to expunge that energy by walking the circumference of her tiny home away from home. Each pass by the door undoubtedly garners the attention of the guards stationed outside, who look as annoyed as they do bored. Aivey, for her part, seems to be talking to herself for her lips move silently with each lap completed.
Here comes another annoyance now. Down the passageway and around through storecavern after storecavern, R'vain's heavy steps are telltale to those who know them, and simply loud to those who don't. They echo down the halls and round the corners until he's there, facing down those guards with an expression of barely-restrained disgust. "Couldn't stop her before," he spits. "What makes y'think y'can do shit for shingles now?" And he turns a shoulder toward the space between them, his aim to go on in and halt the circumferential pace of the woman within.
One of those guards looks ready to say something back to R'vain, even steps forward until his fellow places a big hand around his arm and holds him in place. With his other hand, the more sane of the two says, "Keep it civil, Weyrlingmaster. Weyrleader don't want no trouble." The door is opened and R'vain allowed to pass through where Aivey can be found at the far side of the room, still working her way around her most recent circuit. Predictably, she is aware of the man's arrival before he actually steps into the room. "I was off by one day," she says by way of greeting. She doesn't stop walking.
R'vain sneers at the guards, and is glad enough to be rid of them and on to Aivey. "Off for what?" He stops, since she won't, somewhere inside the perimeter she's stalking, and starts a slow in-place rotation so he can watch her with keen and angry eyes while she moves, while his fists clench and open spastically at his sides.
"To gather up your balls and come see me." Aivey says, matter-of-fact. She does at last stop, at a near forty degree angle to where R'vain stands - watching him with far less anger, and equal interest. "I have to say I'm disappointed you didn't ask me yourself...but then again I'm not surprised." A smile that could pass for shy were it not for the words it accompanies surfaces, "You want to hit me, don't you?" Her eyes drop to his hands, then draw back up to meet his eyes.
So he stops, too, and unlike himself in a way, lets her have her say before he answers. He lets her have a spot of quiet, too-- space enough that she can drop her glance and gain it back before his reply comes. "No?" His fists clench and let go a last time, and glancing away a moment R'vain forces them still before he looks back at Aivey. Despite the physical signals the reply sounded pretty realistically confused. But then clarity comes in a low, rolling growl. "I can think of a handful of things I'd like t'do but hit you ain't any of 'em, bitch."
"Oh the language!" Aivey chastises, "Tell you what, R'vain, take your best shot. I promise I won't hit you back." She bridges the distance between them, close enough that R'vain can easily enough reach her if its his desire, "I can make it easy on you, if you want. Tell you every last little detail of how it happened, why it happened, or-" She pauses, looks up at him, "Or we could finish something /we/ never got to finish."
"Somehow I doubt th'guards got any interest in me swingin' at you /or/ fuckin' you 'til you scream, and I ain't getting that close." Something pale flares in his eyes, cold fire to light emerald facets, and he has to roll his tongue over his teeth before he can continue. "We'll have t'settle for talk. I heard some how. And I bet y'got t'go over how at th'trials anyway, so it'll wait. I got a specific question. You want it?" His turn, now, to physically suggest their next step in the dance-- he backs up a step, to put space between them, but one hand flips over and gestures with palm up, fingers curling. C'mere, come'n'gettit.
"You wouldn't get the chance, R'vain. I'm not playing the simpleton anymore." Aivey relays coldly to all of his first offer, "Man like you ever lays a hand on me without me telling him to and it'll be the last thing he does." Her eyes remain steady, if not steely, her mannerisms equally cold as she consents to his demand and takes a few steps closer despite the distance he already put between them. "Like I say. All you have to do is ask."
The hand that welcomed her falls away, as does the other-- they go out flat to his sides, his chest what he presents her with, shoulders back. "Why'd you lie t'D'ven?"
A chest that is, briefly stared at, but not with anything other then blood lust. The expression lingers as Aivey regards R'vain anew at his question, "I wanted him to do for me what I couldn't risk doing. I was disappointed he didn't, but that's in the past."
"How did you think that was goin' t'work?" R'vain might like to sneer a little bit here-- his lip curls a bit, but he can't quite hold it when mostly there's this incredulousness he has to convey. "Dragonriders don't kill each other over women. But I got 'nother question. You still takin' questions?" Another scrub of his tongue over his teeth, noisy as he sucks back a frown.
"I wanted to see if he would believe me. I wanted you to be seen for what you are. What I didn't want was for him to kill you. I prefer that job myself. In time... maybe I'd have gotten around to it," Aivey smiles, amused at her own notion, at R'vain's little lip curl, at any number of things. The tongue over teeth deal has her frowning and raising a hand to shake her finger a few inches from his face, "That's a nasty habit, R'vain. One of these days someone will break you of it." A flash of teeth comes in a wider smile, but it soon slides into a serious expression as she drops her arms over her chest and nods, "Just ask."
"What, this?" He does it again. The tongue-sucking thing is normally an unconscious gesture, but once it's drawn to his attention R'vain is perfectly capable of doing it intentionally, and does so another time, not averse to driving the murderess crazy if she wants to go for the ride. "I been seen for what I am, Aivey." Her name. He tastes it, and makes a show of it, tongue on lips and then over his teeth a third time, *tsssshck.* "You misjudged him, not me." His questions seems to be waiting for now.
"If I had my knife I'd teach you some manners." Suggestive at the very least, however vaguely. At R'vain's later reply, Aivey allows a soft laugh, "I misjudged a great deal about D'ven but it's for the better. I like him - he's a good man. It's too bad I won't be able to spend more time with him, "You on the other hand..." Aivey's hand raises again, and if she's not stopped it'll fall flat against his chest.
His chest heaves and falls beneath her hand, and one paw twitches into a curl at his side-- but her fingers go unmolested, and his breath stays more or less steady. "You ain't goin' t'be spending much time with me. Besides-- " He glances down at her fingers, then back up at her face. His lip curls, but the sneer has nothing of a smile in it. His nose wrinkles. His eyes narrow. Disgust. "You already proven you're into different sport." Now the paw comes up, to slowly and gently with the back of his wrist against the underside of hers shove her hand away. "One more question," R'vain reminds her.
Each reaction is taken in, each inhalation and exhalation felt, even the faint thump of his heart before her hand is shoved away. Aivey lets it fall to her side, her own fingers relaxing as she continues to study his face. "You understand. I'm glad. Not many do." Aivey gives a small nod of her head, inviting him to ask his question.
"I ain't as dull as I look." R'vain lets himself indulge a moment in cracking a wide and toothy grin, hungerless and unhappy. He turns then, as if he's going to leave his question unanswered and depart. But he doesn't start walking-- he just puts his back to Aivey and over his shoulder asks, "D'you know th'Spinner? Bronzerider I'zul, from Benden?"
"Dull wouldn't be my choice of word," Aivey says. Unlike his grin, hers is every bit amused and indulgent in yet more she doesn't share with the bronzerider. At his question she tilts her head, giving his back a considering look. "Funny name for a man to have, but fitting in his case, I suppose. I know of him, why?"
"I didn't offer t'answer /your/ questions, bitch." His head turns so he faces forward in full, and R'vain heads out, a growl ready to warn the guards out of his way.
Unperturbed by his reply, Aivey makes a last dig that's poised to hurt, if not completely anger him. "She said something before she died. When you answer my question, I'll tell you what it was."
He stops, sure. And even turns around. But he's got a lazy grin on, like the cat that ate the canary. "She's dead. It don't matter what she said. It only matters what I didn't." R'vain stays like that for a moment, his hands finding his thighs just below his hips, elbows out, and he scans the little laundress-- so he thought of her-- up and down and back up. There's no lechery in the gaze. "Sorry, Aivey. I got nothin' for you today." And again, he turns, and this time, he goes.
"Funny you should say that," Aivey offers as she draws a hand up to give R'vain a quick little wave. She turns her back to him now and resumes her circuit of the room.
Players: R'vain and Aivey
Place: Aivey's cell
Some vulgar content behind the link
Old Empty Storeroom
Small and rather dusty, this room is just what the name implies. It used to be another storage space for the various odds and ends used by folk regularly enough to warrant its own room. Only problem was it was too far away from most of the residential areas, so it was cleaned out and had a few modifications made to it. For instance, there are no shelves, the rugs and any tapestries have all been removed, and the door locks from the outside. A thick metal ring has been embedded in the wall off in one corner so only half of it juts out, a perfect loop for sturdy rope or a chain. There's one glowbasket up on a wall, but it's empty.
There's something in the air, something in the food or Aivey is just too restless for her own good. She currently attempts to expunge that energy by walking the circumference of her tiny home away from home. Each pass by the door undoubtedly garners the attention of the guards stationed outside, who look as annoyed as they do bored. Aivey, for her part, seems to be talking to herself for her lips move silently with each lap completed.
Here comes another annoyance now. Down the passageway and around through storecavern after storecavern, R'vain's heavy steps are telltale to those who know them, and simply loud to those who don't. They echo down the halls and round the corners until he's there, facing down those guards with an expression of barely-restrained disgust. "Couldn't stop her before," he spits. "What makes y'think y'can do shit for shingles now?" And he turns a shoulder toward the space between them, his aim to go on in and halt the circumferential pace of the woman within.
One of those guards looks ready to say something back to R'vain, even steps forward until his fellow places a big hand around his arm and holds him in place. With his other hand, the more sane of the two says, "Keep it civil, Weyrlingmaster. Weyrleader don't want no trouble." The door is opened and R'vain allowed to pass through where Aivey can be found at the far side of the room, still working her way around her most recent circuit. Predictably, she is aware of the man's arrival before he actually steps into the room. "I was off by one day," she says by way of greeting. She doesn't stop walking.
R'vain sneers at the guards, and is glad enough to be rid of them and on to Aivey. "Off for what?" He stops, since she won't, somewhere inside the perimeter she's stalking, and starts a slow in-place rotation so he can watch her with keen and angry eyes while she moves, while his fists clench and open spastically at his sides.
"To gather up your balls and come see me." Aivey says, matter-of-fact. She does at last stop, at a near forty degree angle to where R'vain stands - watching him with far less anger, and equal interest. "I have to say I'm disappointed you didn't ask me yourself...but then again I'm not surprised." A smile that could pass for shy were it not for the words it accompanies surfaces, "You want to hit me, don't you?" Her eyes drop to his hands, then draw back up to meet his eyes.
So he stops, too, and unlike himself in a way, lets her have her say before he answers. He lets her have a spot of quiet, too-- space enough that she can drop her glance and gain it back before his reply comes. "No?" His fists clench and let go a last time, and glancing away a moment R'vain forces them still before he looks back at Aivey. Despite the physical signals the reply sounded pretty realistically confused. But then clarity comes in a low, rolling growl. "I can think of a handful of things I'd like t'do but hit you ain't any of 'em, bitch."
"Oh the language!" Aivey chastises, "Tell you what, R'vain, take your best shot. I promise I won't hit you back." She bridges the distance between them, close enough that R'vain can easily enough reach her if its his desire, "I can make it easy on you, if you want. Tell you every last little detail of how it happened, why it happened, or-" She pauses, looks up at him, "Or we could finish something /we/ never got to finish."
"Somehow I doubt th'guards got any interest in me swingin' at you /or/ fuckin' you 'til you scream, and I ain't getting that close." Something pale flares in his eyes, cold fire to light emerald facets, and he has to roll his tongue over his teeth before he can continue. "We'll have t'settle for talk. I heard some how. And I bet y'got t'go over how at th'trials anyway, so it'll wait. I got a specific question. You want it?" His turn, now, to physically suggest their next step in the dance-- he backs up a step, to put space between them, but one hand flips over and gestures with palm up, fingers curling. C'mere, come'n'gettit.
"You wouldn't get the chance, R'vain. I'm not playing the simpleton anymore." Aivey relays coldly to all of his first offer, "Man like you ever lays a hand on me without me telling him to and it'll be the last thing he does." Her eyes remain steady, if not steely, her mannerisms equally cold as she consents to his demand and takes a few steps closer despite the distance he already put between them. "Like I say. All you have to do is ask."
The hand that welcomed her falls away, as does the other-- they go out flat to his sides, his chest what he presents her with, shoulders back. "Why'd you lie t'D'ven?"
A chest that is, briefly stared at, but not with anything other then blood lust. The expression lingers as Aivey regards R'vain anew at his question, "I wanted him to do for me what I couldn't risk doing. I was disappointed he didn't, but that's in the past."
"How did you think that was goin' t'work?" R'vain might like to sneer a little bit here-- his lip curls a bit, but he can't quite hold it when mostly there's this incredulousness he has to convey. "Dragonriders don't kill each other over women. But I got 'nother question. You still takin' questions?" Another scrub of his tongue over his teeth, noisy as he sucks back a frown.
"I wanted to see if he would believe me. I wanted you to be seen for what you are. What I didn't want was for him to kill you. I prefer that job myself. In time... maybe I'd have gotten around to it," Aivey smiles, amused at her own notion, at R'vain's little lip curl, at any number of things. The tongue over teeth deal has her frowning and raising a hand to shake her finger a few inches from his face, "That's a nasty habit, R'vain. One of these days someone will break you of it." A flash of teeth comes in a wider smile, but it soon slides into a serious expression as she drops her arms over her chest and nods, "Just ask."
"What, this?" He does it again. The tongue-sucking thing is normally an unconscious gesture, but once it's drawn to his attention R'vain is perfectly capable of doing it intentionally, and does so another time, not averse to driving the murderess crazy if she wants to go for the ride. "I been seen for what I am, Aivey." Her name. He tastes it, and makes a show of it, tongue on lips and then over his teeth a third time, *tsssshck.* "You misjudged him, not me." His questions seems to be waiting for now.
"If I had my knife I'd teach you some manners." Suggestive at the very least, however vaguely. At R'vain's later reply, Aivey allows a soft laugh, "I misjudged a great deal about D'ven but it's for the better. I like him - he's a good man. It's too bad I won't be able to spend more time with him, "You on the other hand..." Aivey's hand raises again, and if she's not stopped it'll fall flat against his chest.
His chest heaves and falls beneath her hand, and one paw twitches into a curl at his side-- but her fingers go unmolested, and his breath stays more or less steady. "You ain't goin' t'be spending much time with me. Besides-- " He glances down at her fingers, then back up at her face. His lip curls, but the sneer has nothing of a smile in it. His nose wrinkles. His eyes narrow. Disgust. "You already proven you're into different sport." Now the paw comes up, to slowly and gently with the back of his wrist against the underside of hers shove her hand away. "One more question," R'vain reminds her.
Each reaction is taken in, each inhalation and exhalation felt, even the faint thump of his heart before her hand is shoved away. Aivey lets it fall to her side, her own fingers relaxing as she continues to study his face. "You understand. I'm glad. Not many do." Aivey gives a small nod of her head, inviting him to ask his question.
"I ain't as dull as I look." R'vain lets himself indulge a moment in cracking a wide and toothy grin, hungerless and unhappy. He turns then, as if he's going to leave his question unanswered and depart. But he doesn't start walking-- he just puts his back to Aivey and over his shoulder asks, "D'you know th'Spinner? Bronzerider I'zul, from Benden?"
"Dull wouldn't be my choice of word," Aivey says. Unlike his grin, hers is every bit amused and indulgent in yet more she doesn't share with the bronzerider. At his question she tilts her head, giving his back a considering look. "Funny name for a man to have, but fitting in his case, I suppose. I know of him, why?"
"I didn't offer t'answer /your/ questions, bitch." His head turns so he faces forward in full, and R'vain heads out, a growl ready to warn the guards out of his way.
Unperturbed by his reply, Aivey makes a last dig that's poised to hurt, if not completely anger him. "She said something before she died. When you answer my question, I'll tell you what it was."
He stops, sure. And even turns around. But he's got a lazy grin on, like the cat that ate the canary. "She's dead. It don't matter what she said. It only matters what I didn't." R'vain stays like that for a moment, his hands finding his thighs just below his hips, elbows out, and he scans the little laundress-- so he thought of her-- up and down and back up. There's no lechery in the gaze. "Sorry, Aivey. I got nothin' for you today." And again, he turns, and this time, he goes.
"Funny you should say that," Aivey offers as she draws a hand up to give R'vain a quick little wave. She turns her back to him now and resumes her circuit of the room.