Suck it up!
What: E'sere comes home to lick his wounds after his most recent encounter with Derek. Aivey pours salt in them.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
After that failed attempt at confronting Derek, E'sere has retreated back to his weyr to nurse his wounds, mental though they may be. He's brought lunch with him, a bowl of the ubiquitous fish stew, and presently sits in bed stirring it without eating. Morelenth has already retreated back to the ground, leaving him there alone.
Aivey is not long in returning home herself. It's not to nurse wounds but to look for a particular bronzerider, one she finds as she enters the weyr, compliments Morelenth. "Did someone tell you you have mud in your hair or something?" Aivey asks as she crosses to join him.
E'sere prods the chunks within the chew one more time before looking up at Aivey. "No," he answers unhappily. More stew abuse. He waits while she settles in before he notes, "I spoke to your father a few minutes ago."
The kiss Aivey is about to give E'sere is aborted instantly. "You what?" Flat. Incredulous. There's also a rather heavy sigh. "What did you say?"
"Very little," grumps E'sere, and finally takes a bite of his lunch. He seems content to eat for a couple of minutes now, not looking at Aivey. Injured pride indeed.
Aivey, at this exact moment, has no compassion for the injured pride. "I can tell. You're still alive, and as near as I can tell, whole. Now at least tell me I don't need to go and fix whatever you broke." Her eyes switch over to his face, and then to the stew he eats, "What... why did you even go talk to him in the first place?"
"I did something today I didn't think I could do," E'sere notes after a moment, deceptively light. He still doesn't look at Aivey. "I made him dislike me more." Pause. He prods the stew again. "I didn't do anything. There is nothing for you to fix and if you go talk to him and make me look even more emasculated than I already do, I will... be very unhappy." It's not much of a threat, and E'sere takes his irritation at that knowledge out on the stew again. The latter question goes unanswered.
Aivey most definitely /sounds/ amused. "E'sere-" Shaking her head and reaching out to tousle his hair, she continues, "I'm sorry-" She doesn't sound it, "Really. I'm sure it wasn't that bad. Tell me what happened, please?"
Like a sulky little boy, E'sere reaches one hand to straighten out his hair again. "I went to discuss the recent--incident. He's of the opinion I do a--what was it--a 'piss-poor job of objecting.'" He mimics Derek's words but can't manage that high, sandy voice. He snorts instead. "What does he expect me to do, hit him? When that's what I'm protesting?"
"Did you make your point?" Aivey asks with a disapproving frown at his poor attempt at mimicking, "Did you even /need/ to make a point in the first place?" A beat, then, "I hit Zoma to object to her kissing you. Granted, I'm a bit relieved you didn't hit him. I think your face would be far less pretty then it is now if you had."
"No." Jab. Jabjabjab. The stew is mush now, whatever solid pieces that were in it destroyed by E'sere's irritation. He sets the bowl aside and leans back against the wall. "I had it all worked out in my head, exactly what I was going to say, and I said none of it. I know why you hit Zoma. And if I thought talking to her would do any good, I'd do that, too. As it is, I think the only thing that would do her any good is having Donavon push her off a cliff. In lieu of that, I thought I might be able to straighten things out with your father."
"Yeah, it's probably best you didn't tell him that either," Aivey comments as she pulls away and settles down herself - directly across from E'sere. It's probably not the most comfortable for him, given her feet are at the head of the bed, "Zoma is... it's not important what she is, but it's best not to threaten her. And my father is like that-" Fondness here. Pride, even. Amusement too. No sympathy still, "I'm sure you tried your best and I'm sure you learned. Right?" Prompting, Aivey adds, "There's nothing to straighten out. I told you I'm fine."
"Your father is an asshole and if I thought Donavon could go after him successfully, I'd tell him to." It's probably just the humiliation talking, because even E'sere can't be /that/ stupid. The sulking continues unabated. "I think there's something to straighten. I intended to tell him I didn't want him interfering in /our/ business, and I certainly don't want him hitting you. And it--he--" His complaints dissolve into another displeased noise in his throat.
"If you value Donavon, you'll keep him far away from my father. And me," Aivey informs E'sere with a great effort at maintaining an even tone, "Our business is his business, especially-" The effort dissipates and Aivey makes a frustrated noise as she stands and abandons him on the bed, "Do you /think/ he wanted to hit me, E'sere? Do you think he really got some sort of sick joy out of it? He had to. That's how they handle things here. If he didn't hit me... you don't know-" Throwing her shoulders up into a blunt shrug, Aivey takes a pause and a breath, "I appreciate you trying, E'sere, I do. I'll probably laugh about it later when I'm not resisting the urge to strangle you." Now she has to be the one joking.
"It is not his damn business," E'sere insists. "He's your /father/. This--this is between us, if you want to go around hitting every girl on this island who looks at me, it's my business what I do about it. You don't appreciate it at all--you think it's /funny/. You're supposed to be on /my/ side."
"Why is it your business? He's my father. He's the leader of this place and - I'm not arguing this with you," Aivey crosses her arms over her chest and stubbornly looks down at him, "I appreciate that you wanted to stick up for me, but he's not Donavon. You can't threaten my father because it just doesn't work that way."
"Because I'm your--you live with me!" E'sere frowns at her a moment, then shakes his head and moves to pick up the cold and mushy stew again. "That's how it works. Your father is in charge of you until he hands you off to your husband. Which is me. Except for the not-being-married part." Any anger is fading now, replaced by more sulkiness and wounded pride.
"Well you're conveniently forgetting the whole part where you're only suppose to have sex with me and not other women under the pretense of it all being a part of a flight," Aivey calmly states. Then, "What would you have done, then, E'sere? I punched Zoma. What's your idea of a fair punishment to make sure it never happens again?"
"I would have--" E'sere begins, then breaks off, scowling. "I'd just prevent us from ending up in that situation again. Which, I don't think I would have to worry about, because if you hit enough of them, you can scare all the rest off. And don't you go dragging flights back into this."
"And I'd wait for the moment you weren't around before finding whatever floozy hit on you or that you hit on before dealing with her myself," Aivey remarks, "You can't keep an eye on me all day long, E'sere, and if I go around hitting them, it's just... My father wasn't wrong. It could've been worse. He could've let someone else deal the punishment out or he could've hit me more then once. I'm fine, E'sere." This is at least a gentle remark; not so gentle is, "You brought them back into it when you made a claim to me like you did."
"Boy, that comforts me. Maybe that's what he meant about going easy on you because you're his /daughter/. /His/ daughter." The food's set aside again, and he rakes a hand through his hair, releasing a sigh. "He does it again, and I /will/ hit him. And if you get me killed having to do that over some stupid shit you pull, I will make sure Morelenth drags you /between/ when he goes," he threatens finally. "And for the last time, flights are different. They're not my damn choice."
Aivey is Derek's daughter, yes, because at his proclamation she starts to laugh. It doesn't end for a good few seconds, and when she stops, she's shaking her head. "You're so cute when you're trying to be tough. And they are your damn choice. You can chose to be with me instead of some damn greenrider but you won't so... if I mess up, he deals with it. Not you." Lucky Derek.
"Damn, but I hate being laughed at," E'sere mourns, shaking his head. He sighs again, runs that hand back through his hair, then leans the back of his head against the wall again. His eyes cut over to Aivey as he answers, "It's not that simple. You don't know what you're asking of me, Aivey. I'm--I'm /protecting/ you."
"You seem to be doing a lot of that," Aivey says with another shake of her head, "What ever gave you the idea I needed you to in the first place?" Curious more then anything else, Aivey studies him for his reply.
E'sere frowns, straightening up to study Aivey in perplexity. "It's my /job/. It's what I'm supposed to do," he tells her.
"It was my job to protect you," Aivey counters, still watching him. "Still is, in a matter of speaking."
"What?" E'sere pulls back, blinking in surprise at her. "Why? That's completely backwards. I'm a grown man, for Faranth's sake."
"And I'm some child being swathed at her mother's breast?" Aivey counters anew, "I'm protecting you by trying to keep you from getting yourself killed."
"You're a girl!" E'sere says, as though that illuminates the entire issue. "/My/ girl. I protect you. That's how it works. I'm not the one going around letting my own /father/ beat on me."
"If you don't let it go, it won't be my father beating on me the next time I forget I'm not suppose to go around clocking people," Aivey, still maintaining that calm, rational tone looks mildly amused none the less, "He hit me once. That hardly qualifies as him beating on me." There's a brief pause, "How about we make a new deal?"
"What?" E'sere asks unhappily. This whole progressive, independent woman idea does not go over at all well with him, and he's making no attempt to hide it now.
"I'll let the fact that you think my being a girl means I can't keep myself safe slide if you agree to stop treating me like I'm going to break. If not, I'll just have to prove that point to you another way." Serious enough on the matter that she doesn't even smile, Aivey resorts to maintaining a level look with the bronzerider.
"I don't think you're going to break," E'sere notes, frowning at Aivey, then looking away, toward the ledge. "I just don't want--damn it, you make it sound like this is /my/ fault, just because I don't want you ending up in situations that can get you hurt. I /know/ you're not going to break; I /know/ you've gotten stabbed before, worse than this, but. I was half-hoping you would die then, because it'd take some heat off me if you were caught, and I wouldn't have to worry about you giving me up, either."
"Glad to know you were so concerned for me," Aivey retorts, flatly, "I'm... I appreciate that you faced down my father in my defense. I really do, but... it was just a... it's not going to happen again. None of it. Not me hitting anyone else, not him hitting me or anything. I promise." Stepping toward him and dropping back down on the bed, she pulls at his foot with one hand.
"It wasn't like I /knew/ you then. It was business," is E'sere's defense, brows knitting. "It better not," he adds to the latter, fixing her with a look as she settles down and tugs on him. "I don't care who kisses me in front of you, not that I anticipate /that/ happening again, either. It was only a kiss; how did it get this big?"
"You're the one that's making it a big deal," Aivey reprimands gently, "It's not." A small pause, "Don't make it any worse. Ok?" Tipping her head down and looking up at him, she lets the seriousness be emphasized that way, before another tug on his foot turns into a swat and she moves to lay down on her stomach, pillowing her chin atop her folded hands, "You know what this means, don't you?"
"You started it," E'sere points out, "going after Zoma. /Zoma/!" A disgusted shake of his head, though there's not much real sentiment behind the words anymore. "Don't worry--I've done /my/ good deed of the month, and have been appropriately punished for it," he tells her as she lies down. "What?" he asks warily when she's settled.
"He hardly punished you." Aivey replies consolingly, before a lingering look prompts a shake of her head, and a bitten-back grin, "You'll figure it out."
"Aren't I lucky," drawls E'sere. Her latter words do nothing to alleviate his wariness. "What are you talking about?" he wonders.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Blase now, and amusedly so, Aivey arches a brow and shakes her head. Her lips twitch before she clears her throat, "I'll have to go talk to him now, and straighten things out."
Aivey's latter words are enough to distract E'sere from whatever she's hiding from him. "Shit. I already look stupid enough. Don't go emphasize that to him," he says, shaking his head quickly.
"I'm not. I'm just... he's my father. I like spending time with him and I don't want him getting the wrong idea." Aivey draws in a deep breath, then looks pointedly at E'sere, "And no more threatening to kill him. I might have to start taking you seriously from now on."
"The wrong idea about /what/?" E'sere wonders. He eyes her a moment, then scoots down himself to stretch out on his back beside her. "I'm not going to kill him," he promises.
"That I couldn't take a punch, understand what he was doing...crying to you about how mean he is. I don't think he would, but I still... it wasn't easy for him to do and I don't want him thinking..." Aivey stills, shaking her head and moving to pillow it against his chest - forgetting, for now, the current flow of conversation, "I know you're not. You're going to stop threatening it too 'cause he's going to hear you one of these times."
"He'd laugh at me," E'sere is at least darkly confident of that fact. The former subject is dropped entirely, and he automatically moves one arm to wrap loosely around Aivey. "He doesn't think much of me, I assure you. You ought to see if you can do something about /that/."
"Only you can," Aivey replies softly, "You'll figure a way out, just... work on it. Keep working on it." She's quiet for a few seconds after, "I love you, you know," Turning her head to look at him, Aivey adds, "At least I think that's what it is." Comforting, likely.
There's no good answer to that, none that E'sere, so good with words usually, seems to want to give. His eyes are on the ceiling while Aivey looks at him, his expression blank. Finally, he offers a very inadequate, "Yeah," and lets his eyes flicker closed for a few seconds.
"It also means," Forgiving already, Aivey pauses to jab at him, trying to prompt those eyes back open and to her, "Even when you do something incredibly stupid - like trying to tell my father how to do his job - I still think you're cute instead of just completely stupid. Thanks for trying, but... you know, unless I ask you to...let me protect myself?" Asked, not demanded. There's something to be said for that.
When poked, E'sere opens his eyes again, turning his head to look at her and cock a half-smile. "Thanks. That's... terrifically reassuring," he tells her dryly. "But. I'll try," is his eventual, reluctant promise, with the caveat: "But you have to try to stay out of situations that make me want to protect you, too."
"Because I'm a girl?" Aivey prompts.
"Is that a trick question?" E'sere answers, brows knitting again.
"Maybe," Aivey consents with a half grin.
"I want to protect you because you're my girl," E'sere explains slowly, eyeing Aivey in return. "So while I tend to think that most other girls out there also need protecting, they have to find their own... person to take care of them. So the obvious way to keep me from feeling like I have to protect you is to keep yourself out of those situations in the first place. It makes me sleep better, when I'm not worrying about you getting yourself killed over whoever's body turns up in the stew for looking at me funny." Pause. "Though," he adds then, feigning seriousness, "perhaps I'm more worried about looking like I can't take care of /myself/."
"I promise you no one is going to end up in the stew for looking at you funny," Aivey solemnly swears, "Or for anything else. You're on your own when it comes to protecting yourself on that end." To his feigned seriousness, Aivey says only, "It's not a look. You really can't protect yourself," Then in equal feigned seriousness, "-why do you think I'd stick them in the soup, anyways? Zoma's dug all those nice little holes for me. If you fold it just right... a body would fit in one of them, no problem at all."
"You have a point," E'sere notes consideringly. "Huh. I had forgotten about those holes. Do you think we could stick her in one?" Perhaps imagining that, his eyes unfocus a moment, then snap back to Aivey as he studies her. "I can take care of myself," he tells her, whether she were serious or not. "I'm just... not used to having to do it so--physically."
Quickly: "No. I'd be the first one suspected of killing her and I don't want to be grounded." Accommodating E'sere's claim, Aivey nods slowly, "Of course you can. I've never doubted it."
"You're humoring me," E'sere notes to the last, frowning. "And I can't decide if I like that better or worse. I'm a politician, not a... whatever your father is."
"You'll figure it out. All of it," Aivey vaguely informs him yet again, "Aside from perfect? He's a great many things so you'll want to get a little more specific then that."
"You have so much faith," E'sere notes, nose wrinkling. "And no one is perfect. It's vaguely sickening that you'd even apply that word to someone. I don't even know what to call him, so."
"You're sickened that I didn't apply it to you first," Aivey corrects him, still amused, "He's my father. Start with that." Another shrug ends in silence as Aivey reaches with her hand to tug on his arm until she's able to reach his hand and lace her fingers through his, "-have a book handy? That one I was reading from before?"
E'sere does not answer that accusation, which is answer enough in itself. Instead, he looks around, tilting his head back until he can use his free hand to point back at where the book was left. "Over there," he tells her. "I still fail to understand the singular importance you place on that. His being your the father."
Over there is judged to be, at first, too far away. Aivey makes a disgruntled noise that's surely intended for that fact, "He's my father. That's all there is to it." Cutting it that simply, Aivey disentangles herself to retrieve the book before reclaiming her earlier spot with a request, "Read for me?"
"And all he's ever done for you is hit you and get himself exiled out of your entire life," E'sere points out cynically, even as he accepts the book and scoots to prop himself up just a little against the wall. One arm is slid around Aivey again, while with the other he flips absently to where they left off, and begins to read again.
Aivey makes mental notes. Be sure of that. Be sure to note that tiny spark of irritation too - but all adverse reactions are quelled in favor of listening to E'sere read. After making herself comfortable by looping her arm around his chest, she falls still and within short order, asleep. It's either the book or the (lack of) E'sere's reading skills.
Today, even when Aivey is asleep, E'sere glances down at her and keeps reading for a good while longer, to try to make sure she doesn't wake up again when he finally sets the book aside and settles in himself, fingers lacing around Aivey's back.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
After that failed attempt at confronting Derek, E'sere has retreated back to his weyr to nurse his wounds, mental though they may be. He's brought lunch with him, a bowl of the ubiquitous fish stew, and presently sits in bed stirring it without eating. Morelenth has already retreated back to the ground, leaving him there alone.
Aivey is not long in returning home herself. It's not to nurse wounds but to look for a particular bronzerider, one she finds as she enters the weyr, compliments Morelenth. "Did someone tell you you have mud in your hair or something?" Aivey asks as she crosses to join him.
E'sere prods the chunks within the chew one more time before looking up at Aivey. "No," he answers unhappily. More stew abuse. He waits while she settles in before he notes, "I spoke to your father a few minutes ago."
The kiss Aivey is about to give E'sere is aborted instantly. "You what?" Flat. Incredulous. There's also a rather heavy sigh. "What did you say?"
"Very little," grumps E'sere, and finally takes a bite of his lunch. He seems content to eat for a couple of minutes now, not looking at Aivey. Injured pride indeed.
Aivey, at this exact moment, has no compassion for the injured pride. "I can tell. You're still alive, and as near as I can tell, whole. Now at least tell me I don't need to go and fix whatever you broke." Her eyes switch over to his face, and then to the stew he eats, "What... why did you even go talk to him in the first place?"
"I did something today I didn't think I could do," E'sere notes after a moment, deceptively light. He still doesn't look at Aivey. "I made him dislike me more." Pause. He prods the stew again. "I didn't do anything. There is nothing for you to fix and if you go talk to him and make me look even more emasculated than I already do, I will... be very unhappy." It's not much of a threat, and E'sere takes his irritation at that knowledge out on the stew again. The latter question goes unanswered.
Aivey most definitely /sounds/ amused. "E'sere-" Shaking her head and reaching out to tousle his hair, she continues, "I'm sorry-" She doesn't sound it, "Really. I'm sure it wasn't that bad. Tell me what happened, please?"
Like a sulky little boy, E'sere reaches one hand to straighten out his hair again. "I went to discuss the recent--incident. He's of the opinion I do a--what was it--a 'piss-poor job of objecting.'" He mimics Derek's words but can't manage that high, sandy voice. He snorts instead. "What does he expect me to do, hit him? When that's what I'm protesting?"
"Did you make your point?" Aivey asks with a disapproving frown at his poor attempt at mimicking, "Did you even /need/ to make a point in the first place?" A beat, then, "I hit Zoma to object to her kissing you. Granted, I'm a bit relieved you didn't hit him. I think your face would be far less pretty then it is now if you had."
"No." Jab. Jabjabjab. The stew is mush now, whatever solid pieces that were in it destroyed by E'sere's irritation. He sets the bowl aside and leans back against the wall. "I had it all worked out in my head, exactly what I was going to say, and I said none of it. I know why you hit Zoma. And if I thought talking to her would do any good, I'd do that, too. As it is, I think the only thing that would do her any good is having Donavon push her off a cliff. In lieu of that, I thought I might be able to straighten things out with your father."
"Yeah, it's probably best you didn't tell him that either," Aivey comments as she pulls away and settles down herself - directly across from E'sere. It's probably not the most comfortable for him, given her feet are at the head of the bed, "Zoma is... it's not important what she is, but it's best not to threaten her. And my father is like that-" Fondness here. Pride, even. Amusement too. No sympathy still, "I'm sure you tried your best and I'm sure you learned. Right?" Prompting, Aivey adds, "There's nothing to straighten out. I told you I'm fine."
"Your father is an asshole and if I thought Donavon could go after him successfully, I'd tell him to." It's probably just the humiliation talking, because even E'sere can't be /that/ stupid. The sulking continues unabated. "I think there's something to straighten. I intended to tell him I didn't want him interfering in /our/ business, and I certainly don't want him hitting you. And it--he--" His complaints dissolve into another displeased noise in his throat.
"If you value Donavon, you'll keep him far away from my father. And me," Aivey informs E'sere with a great effort at maintaining an even tone, "Our business is his business, especially-" The effort dissipates and Aivey makes a frustrated noise as she stands and abandons him on the bed, "Do you /think/ he wanted to hit me, E'sere? Do you think he really got some sort of sick joy out of it? He had to. That's how they handle things here. If he didn't hit me... you don't know-" Throwing her shoulders up into a blunt shrug, Aivey takes a pause and a breath, "I appreciate you trying, E'sere, I do. I'll probably laugh about it later when I'm not resisting the urge to strangle you." Now she has to be the one joking.
"It is not his damn business," E'sere insists. "He's your /father/. This--this is between us, if you want to go around hitting every girl on this island who looks at me, it's my business what I do about it. You don't appreciate it at all--you think it's /funny/. You're supposed to be on /my/ side."
"Why is it your business? He's my father. He's the leader of this place and - I'm not arguing this with you," Aivey crosses her arms over her chest and stubbornly looks down at him, "I appreciate that you wanted to stick up for me, but he's not Donavon. You can't threaten my father because it just doesn't work that way."
"Because I'm your--you live with me!" E'sere frowns at her a moment, then shakes his head and moves to pick up the cold and mushy stew again. "That's how it works. Your father is in charge of you until he hands you off to your husband. Which is me. Except for the not-being-married part." Any anger is fading now, replaced by more sulkiness and wounded pride.
"Well you're conveniently forgetting the whole part where you're only suppose to have sex with me and not other women under the pretense of it all being a part of a flight," Aivey calmly states. Then, "What would you have done, then, E'sere? I punched Zoma. What's your idea of a fair punishment to make sure it never happens again?"
"I would have--" E'sere begins, then breaks off, scowling. "I'd just prevent us from ending up in that situation again. Which, I don't think I would have to worry about, because if you hit enough of them, you can scare all the rest off. And don't you go dragging flights back into this."
"And I'd wait for the moment you weren't around before finding whatever floozy hit on you or that you hit on before dealing with her myself," Aivey remarks, "You can't keep an eye on me all day long, E'sere, and if I go around hitting them, it's just... My father wasn't wrong. It could've been worse. He could've let someone else deal the punishment out or he could've hit me more then once. I'm fine, E'sere." This is at least a gentle remark; not so gentle is, "You brought them back into it when you made a claim to me like you did."
"Boy, that comforts me. Maybe that's what he meant about going easy on you because you're his /daughter/. /His/ daughter." The food's set aside again, and he rakes a hand through his hair, releasing a sigh. "He does it again, and I /will/ hit him. And if you get me killed having to do that over some stupid shit you pull, I will make sure Morelenth drags you /between/ when he goes," he threatens finally. "And for the last time, flights are different. They're not my damn choice."
Aivey is Derek's daughter, yes, because at his proclamation she starts to laugh. It doesn't end for a good few seconds, and when she stops, she's shaking her head. "You're so cute when you're trying to be tough. And they are your damn choice. You can chose to be with me instead of some damn greenrider but you won't so... if I mess up, he deals with it. Not you." Lucky Derek.
"Damn, but I hate being laughed at," E'sere mourns, shaking his head. He sighs again, runs that hand back through his hair, then leans the back of his head against the wall again. His eyes cut over to Aivey as he answers, "It's not that simple. You don't know what you're asking of me, Aivey. I'm--I'm /protecting/ you."
"You seem to be doing a lot of that," Aivey says with another shake of her head, "What ever gave you the idea I needed you to in the first place?" Curious more then anything else, Aivey studies him for his reply.
E'sere frowns, straightening up to study Aivey in perplexity. "It's my /job/. It's what I'm supposed to do," he tells her.
"It was my job to protect you," Aivey counters, still watching him. "Still is, in a matter of speaking."
"What?" E'sere pulls back, blinking in surprise at her. "Why? That's completely backwards. I'm a grown man, for Faranth's sake."
"And I'm some child being swathed at her mother's breast?" Aivey counters anew, "I'm protecting you by trying to keep you from getting yourself killed."
"You're a girl!" E'sere says, as though that illuminates the entire issue. "/My/ girl. I protect you. That's how it works. I'm not the one going around letting my own /father/ beat on me."
"If you don't let it go, it won't be my father beating on me the next time I forget I'm not suppose to go around clocking people," Aivey, still maintaining that calm, rational tone looks mildly amused none the less, "He hit me once. That hardly qualifies as him beating on me." There's a brief pause, "How about we make a new deal?"
"What?" E'sere asks unhappily. This whole progressive, independent woman idea does not go over at all well with him, and he's making no attempt to hide it now.
"I'll let the fact that you think my being a girl means I can't keep myself safe slide if you agree to stop treating me like I'm going to break. If not, I'll just have to prove that point to you another way." Serious enough on the matter that she doesn't even smile, Aivey resorts to maintaining a level look with the bronzerider.
"I don't think you're going to break," E'sere notes, frowning at Aivey, then looking away, toward the ledge. "I just don't want--damn it, you make it sound like this is /my/ fault, just because I don't want you ending up in situations that can get you hurt. I /know/ you're not going to break; I /know/ you've gotten stabbed before, worse than this, but. I was half-hoping you would die then, because it'd take some heat off me if you were caught, and I wouldn't have to worry about you giving me up, either."
"Glad to know you were so concerned for me," Aivey retorts, flatly, "I'm... I appreciate that you faced down my father in my defense. I really do, but... it was just a... it's not going to happen again. None of it. Not me hitting anyone else, not him hitting me or anything. I promise." Stepping toward him and dropping back down on the bed, she pulls at his foot with one hand.
"It wasn't like I /knew/ you then. It was business," is E'sere's defense, brows knitting. "It better not," he adds to the latter, fixing her with a look as she settles down and tugs on him. "I don't care who kisses me in front of you, not that I anticipate /that/ happening again, either. It was only a kiss; how did it get this big?"
"You're the one that's making it a big deal," Aivey reprimands gently, "It's not." A small pause, "Don't make it any worse. Ok?" Tipping her head down and looking up at him, she lets the seriousness be emphasized that way, before another tug on his foot turns into a swat and she moves to lay down on her stomach, pillowing her chin atop her folded hands, "You know what this means, don't you?"
"You started it," E'sere points out, "going after Zoma. /Zoma/!" A disgusted shake of his head, though there's not much real sentiment behind the words anymore. "Don't worry--I've done /my/ good deed of the month, and have been appropriately punished for it," he tells her as she lies down. "What?" he asks warily when she's settled.
"He hardly punished you." Aivey replies consolingly, before a lingering look prompts a shake of her head, and a bitten-back grin, "You'll figure it out."
"Aren't I lucky," drawls E'sere. Her latter words do nothing to alleviate his wariness. "What are you talking about?" he wonders.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," Blase now, and amusedly so, Aivey arches a brow and shakes her head. Her lips twitch before she clears her throat, "I'll have to go talk to him now, and straighten things out."
Aivey's latter words are enough to distract E'sere from whatever she's hiding from him. "Shit. I already look stupid enough. Don't go emphasize that to him," he says, shaking his head quickly.
"I'm not. I'm just... he's my father. I like spending time with him and I don't want him getting the wrong idea." Aivey draws in a deep breath, then looks pointedly at E'sere, "And no more threatening to kill him. I might have to start taking you seriously from now on."
"The wrong idea about /what/?" E'sere wonders. He eyes her a moment, then scoots down himself to stretch out on his back beside her. "I'm not going to kill him," he promises.
"That I couldn't take a punch, understand what he was doing...crying to you about how mean he is. I don't think he would, but I still... it wasn't easy for him to do and I don't want him thinking..." Aivey stills, shaking her head and moving to pillow it against his chest - forgetting, for now, the current flow of conversation, "I know you're not. You're going to stop threatening it too 'cause he's going to hear you one of these times."
"He'd laugh at me," E'sere is at least darkly confident of that fact. The former subject is dropped entirely, and he automatically moves one arm to wrap loosely around Aivey. "He doesn't think much of me, I assure you. You ought to see if you can do something about /that/."
"Only you can," Aivey replies softly, "You'll figure a way out, just... work on it. Keep working on it." She's quiet for a few seconds after, "I love you, you know," Turning her head to look at him, Aivey adds, "At least I think that's what it is." Comforting, likely.
There's no good answer to that, none that E'sere, so good with words usually, seems to want to give. His eyes are on the ceiling while Aivey looks at him, his expression blank. Finally, he offers a very inadequate, "Yeah," and lets his eyes flicker closed for a few seconds.
"It also means," Forgiving already, Aivey pauses to jab at him, trying to prompt those eyes back open and to her, "Even when you do something incredibly stupid - like trying to tell my father how to do his job - I still think you're cute instead of just completely stupid. Thanks for trying, but... you know, unless I ask you to...let me protect myself?" Asked, not demanded. There's something to be said for that.
When poked, E'sere opens his eyes again, turning his head to look at her and cock a half-smile. "Thanks. That's... terrifically reassuring," he tells her dryly. "But. I'll try," is his eventual, reluctant promise, with the caveat: "But you have to try to stay out of situations that make me want to protect you, too."
"Because I'm a girl?" Aivey prompts.
"Is that a trick question?" E'sere answers, brows knitting again.
"Maybe," Aivey consents with a half grin.
"I want to protect you because you're my girl," E'sere explains slowly, eyeing Aivey in return. "So while I tend to think that most other girls out there also need protecting, they have to find their own... person to take care of them. So the obvious way to keep me from feeling like I have to protect you is to keep yourself out of those situations in the first place. It makes me sleep better, when I'm not worrying about you getting yourself killed over whoever's body turns up in the stew for looking at me funny." Pause. "Though," he adds then, feigning seriousness, "perhaps I'm more worried about looking like I can't take care of /myself/."
"I promise you no one is going to end up in the stew for looking at you funny," Aivey solemnly swears, "Or for anything else. You're on your own when it comes to protecting yourself on that end." To his feigned seriousness, Aivey says only, "It's not a look. You really can't protect yourself," Then in equal feigned seriousness, "-why do you think I'd stick them in the soup, anyways? Zoma's dug all those nice little holes for me. If you fold it just right... a body would fit in one of them, no problem at all."
"You have a point," E'sere notes consideringly. "Huh. I had forgotten about those holes. Do you think we could stick her in one?" Perhaps imagining that, his eyes unfocus a moment, then snap back to Aivey as he studies her. "I can take care of myself," he tells her, whether she were serious or not. "I'm just... not used to having to do it so--physically."
Quickly: "No. I'd be the first one suspected of killing her and I don't want to be grounded." Accommodating E'sere's claim, Aivey nods slowly, "Of course you can. I've never doubted it."
"You're humoring me," E'sere notes to the last, frowning. "And I can't decide if I like that better or worse. I'm a politician, not a... whatever your father is."
"You'll figure it out. All of it," Aivey vaguely informs him yet again, "Aside from perfect? He's a great many things so you'll want to get a little more specific then that."
"You have so much faith," E'sere notes, nose wrinkling. "And no one is perfect. It's vaguely sickening that you'd even apply that word to someone. I don't even know what to call him, so."
"You're sickened that I didn't apply it to you first," Aivey corrects him, still amused, "He's my father. Start with that." Another shrug ends in silence as Aivey reaches with her hand to tug on his arm until she's able to reach his hand and lace her fingers through his, "-have a book handy? That one I was reading from before?"
E'sere does not answer that accusation, which is answer enough in itself. Instead, he looks around, tilting his head back until he can use his free hand to point back at where the book was left. "Over there," he tells her. "I still fail to understand the singular importance you place on that. His being your the father."
Over there is judged to be, at first, too far away. Aivey makes a disgruntled noise that's surely intended for that fact, "He's my father. That's all there is to it." Cutting it that simply, Aivey disentangles herself to retrieve the book before reclaiming her earlier spot with a request, "Read for me?"
"And all he's ever done for you is hit you and get himself exiled out of your entire life," E'sere points out cynically, even as he accepts the book and scoots to prop himself up just a little against the wall. One arm is slid around Aivey again, while with the other he flips absently to where they left off, and begins to read again.
Aivey makes mental notes. Be sure of that. Be sure to note that tiny spark of irritation too - but all adverse reactions are quelled in favor of listening to E'sere read. After making herself comfortable by looping her arm around his chest, she falls still and within short order, asleep. It's either the book or the (lack of) E'sere's reading skills.
Today, even when Aivey is asleep, E'sere glances down at her and keeps reading for a good while longer, to try to make sure she doesn't wake up again when he finally sets the book aside and settles in himself, fingers lacing around Aivey's back.