People Skills. Who needs 'em?
What: Um.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
Having roused the bronze to take her down for her pre-dawn visit with her father, Aivey now takes said bronze back to the Weyr. The quick pace with which she approaches him might be warning that something is off; the tight clench of her jaw and fists might be another. Upon landing and moving into the weyr, E'sere might even see another sign: watery eyes. Very watery eyes. In more then the 'I have something in my eyes' watery eyes. Pointedly ignoring E'sere, Aivey moves toward the bed.
"You're back," E'sere notes, as he picks at the front of his shirt and looks up a moment later at her, brows knitting as he takes in her posture, her expression, and her destination. He shoots a glance back at Morelenth, the bronze hovering in the doorway with a face more worried than his rider's. E'sere looks back to Aivey, and stands still until she reaches the bed, before he moves to follow her. "What happened?" he asks.
"Nothing." Ground through clenched teeth, Aivey kicks at the pillow with irritation. It's a nice little love tap to set it where it belongs. She brushes the back of her fist against the underside of her eye then, "You're going to be late. Go." With her back still to him, Aivey drops to her knees and proceeds to fuss with the blankets, trying to arrange them into some semblance of a neat order.
E'sere is silent a moment, just watching Aivey as he sits down beside her. "You spoke to your father," he says then. What else, after all, could upset her that much? His frown deepens, and he reaches one hand out to rub at her back gently. "I have a little time. What happened?" he repeats the question.
Aivey starts rather abruptly at the hand on her back, rising rather quickly to her feet and turning around to face E'sere. Her face is flushed a deep red and her jaw still clenched. That it parts only to issue a sharp bark at the bronzerider isn't in his favor. "Don't touch me! Don't... don't even speak about him like that!" There is only a half-second hesitation before Aivey reaches out and pushes at his shoulder, trying to force him away, "I don't want to take up your little time. Go."
E'sere leans away when Aivey pushes on him, but doesn't retreat far. Instead, he just looks at Aivey while she becomes more agitated, and he tries again. "I assumed you spoke to him," he tells her mildly, rationally. "That's all. Just tell me what happened to upset you, please, Aivey."
"Of course I spoke to him. I went down there and I talked with him and he talked with me. We had food and we had laughs. Nothing happened." Over enunciated, the last two words. They're also the last words she speaks in a relatively normal tone. The rest are strained, almost to the point of near tears. Aivey brushes at her eyes again, and turns away from E'sere to try and neaten those damn blankets yet again.
Since she's not yelling now, E'sere ventures to scoot back closer and touch her shoulder again. "I don't believe that," he tells her, quiet. "Come on; you can tell me. Please, Aivey?"
There's still that volatile reaction, a flinch and start that has Aivey facing the bronzerider, fists tightly clenched at her side. Restraint in its barest form keeps her from swinging out; realization that it'd likely bring another unwanted discussion with her father likely plays a hand too. She still draws a hand up, grinding the knuckle of her thumb into her eye until the tears there finally spill. The hand, now shaking, drops to her side and refists. For a moment it's all she can do. Her head is bowed, quite possibly in shame or at the very least in an attempt to hide the fact that she's crying.
E'sere does not, to his credit, flinch away himself, staying instead firmly where he is despite the threat to himself. He doesn't say anything this time, either, choosing rather to remain silent and reach out for Aivey again, seeking to draw her closer while she cries.
Aivey doesn't resist being drawn closer, doesn't even turn away from using his shoulder to cry on. She does remain rather limp in his arms, though. Thankfully it's over within a few brief minutes, the end punctuated with a jab of her fist against his shoulder. Pulling away, Aivey hastily brushes her hands against her eyes and sniffs. "Asshole," Without any real energy behind the insult, she soon looks away, retreating across the bed to reclaim the pillow before settling down with it hugged against her chest. "He had this look-" Aivey says after a small pause. "This look that just..." She clenches her jaw, not finishing the statement.
"Mmhmm," E'sere agrees with Aivey's insult, nodding once and releasing Aivey slowly as she pulls away from him. While she hugs up the pillow, he leans back against the wall to watch. "What sort of look?" he prompts her to finish.
"Tired. But not like he's done a full days work. Like he's disappointed," The statement takes some time to come, and the only way it's delivered is clinically. Without feeling, as though she weren't even relating it to the morning breakfast. "He always looks like that when I try. I try to do my best and-" Aivey shakes her head and releases a frustrated, pent breath before looking back to E'sere. The tears are still there, once more at the point of overflowing, "What's wrong with me? Why can't I make him proud?"
"I know that look," says E'sere, scooting back closer to Aivey when those tears well up again. "Because... Oh, Aivey. I don't know," he says, sighing himself, with a tight, not-quite-smile. As gently as he can, he continues, "He... you love him unconditionally, Aivey. And he might--he might love you, I don't know, but he's not going to be as... blinkered as you are toward him. He wants something from you, something specific, and... I suppose he hasn't got it yet."
"He should just tell me!" Aivey stresses with an agitated flip of her hand out in the air. "That's all he has to do and I'll do whatever it is. Why-" She winces and stops, clenching her jaw while brushing back at her eyes. Her chin continues to tremble even as she fists her hand into the end of the pillow, "I asked him if I could watch his best man. So I could see... know what made them that good in his eyes and he just looked at me like that. Why?" The hard question is posed to E'sere again as she moves to his side and buries her head against him.
"Because if he tells you," E'sere patiently explains, sliding arms back around Aivey when she buries her face against his chest, "then you don't discover it for yourself. And that's half the learning process." He releases another breath, tightening his hold. "He doesn't want you to be just another one of his men--whatever he does want. He's never treated you like that. You're on the wrong track, and that's why he's disappointed."
"Yeah, well, at this rate I'm not going to." Aivey's reply is weak and met with a press of her fist into his side. "I don't know..." She stops again before straightening and rubbing at her eyes, "I've got to figure it out. I can't keep... I can't keep making him see me like that. I don't know what I'm going to do but I'll figure it out."
"You will," E'sere offers comfortingly. "You just need to... I don't know. I think you're trying too hard, at this point. Trying too hard to impress him, and it's not working. That's what I do, you know--in different ways, admittedly--but it doesn't work when I do it, either. He's not the kind of man we can impress. You know some of what he wants: he doesn't want you fighting with people; he wants you to learn from them without having to--to pick at them the way you do."
"I'm just going to shut up from here on out," Aivey sulks, "Not going to say a thing and just... not say anything." Another swipe at her eyes finally finds them dry, and her straightening enough that nestling against E'sere is no longer needed. "It's not going to work but at least I won't be saying anything wrong."
With a half-smile, E'sere glances down at Aivey when she leans away again. "You don't have to completely silence yourself; you just need to learn the time and the place. You're blunt. You come on strong. You pick at people--and in the business you were in at the Weyr, those were wonderful traits. But that's not what we need now. We need a little more... finesse," he explains. "You have to be able to get along with people, not just threaten and beat them into submission."
"It's /easier/," Aivey defends brusquely, "I don't want to play around with them. If they don't listen get rid of them. Don't sweet talk them," Twisting the concept with a sneer, Aivey narrows her eyes at the bronzerider in a muted glare, "I try to be nice and they think I want something."
"Because you've already shown them that's not who you are," explains E'sere. "It's the same as if I came straight out and said something. They'd think I were up to something, too. We need to teach you how to... pad your words, but not take away any of the meaning. The fact that you are so straightforward can be an asset; it just has to be tempered with a little wisdom. And patience."
"It's annoying." Aivey replies, still sullen, "Like dancing and wearing dresses and talking sweet and not saying what you really mean." She's still glaring at E'sere, though there's no ire behind it. Only frustration. "You're going to be late."
"No," E'sere notes, with a shake of his head. "Not that much. Just a little softening. It just wouldn't be you otherwise. Dances and fancy dresses are fun for a night, but." A shrug. "Wouldn't want to do that all the time. It'd get old." Her latter claim, of his tardiness, goes unanswered.
"They still won't buy it." Though she doesn't /need/ to, Aivey falls back against his side, trying her very best to squirm under his arm while wrapping hers around his middle, "It's like playing, right? Only not trying to scare them?"
"Just another form of playing," agrees E'sere, nodding as he slides his arms back around Aivey. "Sometimes it's more fun--more challenging, I think. Subtlety is underrated."
"What's the point, then? If you're being nice or whatever... what's the point?" Aivey shifts slightly, "Before it was easy. I needed to find what scared them. What made them doubt themselves. What would be good to use against them. What's the point with subtlety?"
"It's slower, usually," admits E'sere. "I've been working on people my whole life and in some cases I still haven't made the kind of headway that I want. But you learn about the person all the same, by getting closer to them, by watching them every day and seeing them in different situations. And you learn how to get them to do things without having to resort to violence. Manipulation above coercion."
"It's faster to just threaten them." Aivey replies with a tight little sigh. "I don't like it. I think it's just easier to do things my way but-" Aivey tilts her head back and looks up at him, ending with a small, unfelt smile. "I can still practice on T'gar and Islay, right?" Another pause and Aivey starts to withdraw from E'sere. The tears are gone. Her face is still splotcy and red, but she's under control of her emotions. A plus. "You should go. We'll talk about this later."
"It's faster, yes, but it builds up resentment. They'll hate you for it," says E'sere, still patiently explaining the concept to Aivey. "If you play it right my way, you can get them to do whatever you want, and they'll still love you for it. And that's the art of politics. We'll work on it--Islay and T'gar, for a start, all right?" A pause. He studies her face a moment, then nods once and offers a small smile. "I should. I'll meet you for lunch. Shall I drop you off now, or should I just send Morelenth back up for when you want to come down?"
"I'll stay up here for now. Maybe go down later," Aivey replies with a small smile of thanks, "Be careful, alright?" She eases away, then slides down with the pillow propped under her chin. "Thanks... by the way. I. You know, right?" She doesn't say it, but a lingering look and the smallest of smiles might suggest the thanks that doesn't come.
"I'll send up him when I get through with him, then," E'sere agrees, nodding once. "And I know." He leans down to offer a brief kiss, then pushes himself to his feet to head out to meet his dragon.
Aivey isn't shy in returning the kiss, or with offering a promising whisper about 'later tonight' - but truly, that can mean any number of things. She settles back, watching him go out. It's not until she's sure Morelenth has carried him off to his drills that she steals away from the pillow and bed, disappearing into that corner where Asshole is kept. He's cradled in the crook of her arm as she moves back to the bed and retreats there, the blanket drawn up and over her head.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
Having roused the bronze to take her down for her pre-dawn visit with her father, Aivey now takes said bronze back to the Weyr. The quick pace with which she approaches him might be warning that something is off; the tight clench of her jaw and fists might be another. Upon landing and moving into the weyr, E'sere might even see another sign: watery eyes. Very watery eyes. In more then the 'I have something in my eyes' watery eyes. Pointedly ignoring E'sere, Aivey moves toward the bed.
"You're back," E'sere notes, as he picks at the front of his shirt and looks up a moment later at her, brows knitting as he takes in her posture, her expression, and her destination. He shoots a glance back at Morelenth, the bronze hovering in the doorway with a face more worried than his rider's. E'sere looks back to Aivey, and stands still until she reaches the bed, before he moves to follow her. "What happened?" he asks.
"Nothing." Ground through clenched teeth, Aivey kicks at the pillow with irritation. It's a nice little love tap to set it where it belongs. She brushes the back of her fist against the underside of her eye then, "You're going to be late. Go." With her back still to him, Aivey drops to her knees and proceeds to fuss with the blankets, trying to arrange them into some semblance of a neat order.
E'sere is silent a moment, just watching Aivey as he sits down beside her. "You spoke to your father," he says then. What else, after all, could upset her that much? His frown deepens, and he reaches one hand out to rub at her back gently. "I have a little time. What happened?" he repeats the question.
Aivey starts rather abruptly at the hand on her back, rising rather quickly to her feet and turning around to face E'sere. Her face is flushed a deep red and her jaw still clenched. That it parts only to issue a sharp bark at the bronzerider isn't in his favor. "Don't touch me! Don't... don't even speak about him like that!" There is only a half-second hesitation before Aivey reaches out and pushes at his shoulder, trying to force him away, "I don't want to take up your little time. Go."
E'sere leans away when Aivey pushes on him, but doesn't retreat far. Instead, he just looks at Aivey while she becomes more agitated, and he tries again. "I assumed you spoke to him," he tells her mildly, rationally. "That's all. Just tell me what happened to upset you, please, Aivey."
"Of course I spoke to him. I went down there and I talked with him and he talked with me. We had food and we had laughs. Nothing happened." Over enunciated, the last two words. They're also the last words she speaks in a relatively normal tone. The rest are strained, almost to the point of near tears. Aivey brushes at her eyes again, and turns away from E'sere to try and neaten those damn blankets yet again.
Since she's not yelling now, E'sere ventures to scoot back closer and touch her shoulder again. "I don't believe that," he tells her, quiet. "Come on; you can tell me. Please, Aivey?"
There's still that volatile reaction, a flinch and start that has Aivey facing the bronzerider, fists tightly clenched at her side. Restraint in its barest form keeps her from swinging out; realization that it'd likely bring another unwanted discussion with her father likely plays a hand too. She still draws a hand up, grinding the knuckle of her thumb into her eye until the tears there finally spill. The hand, now shaking, drops to her side and refists. For a moment it's all she can do. Her head is bowed, quite possibly in shame or at the very least in an attempt to hide the fact that she's crying.
E'sere does not, to his credit, flinch away himself, staying instead firmly where he is despite the threat to himself. He doesn't say anything this time, either, choosing rather to remain silent and reach out for Aivey again, seeking to draw her closer while she cries.
Aivey doesn't resist being drawn closer, doesn't even turn away from using his shoulder to cry on. She does remain rather limp in his arms, though. Thankfully it's over within a few brief minutes, the end punctuated with a jab of her fist against his shoulder. Pulling away, Aivey hastily brushes her hands against her eyes and sniffs. "Asshole," Without any real energy behind the insult, she soon looks away, retreating across the bed to reclaim the pillow before settling down with it hugged against her chest. "He had this look-" Aivey says after a small pause. "This look that just..." She clenches her jaw, not finishing the statement.
"Mmhmm," E'sere agrees with Aivey's insult, nodding once and releasing Aivey slowly as she pulls away from him. While she hugs up the pillow, he leans back against the wall to watch. "What sort of look?" he prompts her to finish.
"Tired. But not like he's done a full days work. Like he's disappointed," The statement takes some time to come, and the only way it's delivered is clinically. Without feeling, as though she weren't even relating it to the morning breakfast. "He always looks like that when I try. I try to do my best and-" Aivey shakes her head and releases a frustrated, pent breath before looking back to E'sere. The tears are still there, once more at the point of overflowing, "What's wrong with me? Why can't I make him proud?"
"I know that look," says E'sere, scooting back closer to Aivey when those tears well up again. "Because... Oh, Aivey. I don't know," he says, sighing himself, with a tight, not-quite-smile. As gently as he can, he continues, "He... you love him unconditionally, Aivey. And he might--he might love you, I don't know, but he's not going to be as... blinkered as you are toward him. He wants something from you, something specific, and... I suppose he hasn't got it yet."
"He should just tell me!" Aivey stresses with an agitated flip of her hand out in the air. "That's all he has to do and I'll do whatever it is. Why-" She winces and stops, clenching her jaw while brushing back at her eyes. Her chin continues to tremble even as she fists her hand into the end of the pillow, "I asked him if I could watch his best man. So I could see... know what made them that good in his eyes and he just looked at me like that. Why?" The hard question is posed to E'sere again as she moves to his side and buries her head against him.
"Because if he tells you," E'sere patiently explains, sliding arms back around Aivey when she buries her face against his chest, "then you don't discover it for yourself. And that's half the learning process." He releases another breath, tightening his hold. "He doesn't want you to be just another one of his men--whatever he does want. He's never treated you like that. You're on the wrong track, and that's why he's disappointed."
"Yeah, well, at this rate I'm not going to." Aivey's reply is weak and met with a press of her fist into his side. "I don't know..." She stops again before straightening and rubbing at her eyes, "I've got to figure it out. I can't keep... I can't keep making him see me like that. I don't know what I'm going to do but I'll figure it out."
"You will," E'sere offers comfortingly. "You just need to... I don't know. I think you're trying too hard, at this point. Trying too hard to impress him, and it's not working. That's what I do, you know--in different ways, admittedly--but it doesn't work when I do it, either. He's not the kind of man we can impress. You know some of what he wants: he doesn't want you fighting with people; he wants you to learn from them without having to--to pick at them the way you do."
"I'm just going to shut up from here on out," Aivey sulks, "Not going to say a thing and just... not say anything." Another swipe at her eyes finally finds them dry, and her straightening enough that nestling against E'sere is no longer needed. "It's not going to work but at least I won't be saying anything wrong."
With a half-smile, E'sere glances down at Aivey when she leans away again. "You don't have to completely silence yourself; you just need to learn the time and the place. You're blunt. You come on strong. You pick at people--and in the business you were in at the Weyr, those were wonderful traits. But that's not what we need now. We need a little more... finesse," he explains. "You have to be able to get along with people, not just threaten and beat them into submission."
"It's /easier/," Aivey defends brusquely, "I don't want to play around with them. If they don't listen get rid of them. Don't sweet talk them," Twisting the concept with a sneer, Aivey narrows her eyes at the bronzerider in a muted glare, "I try to be nice and they think I want something."
"Because you've already shown them that's not who you are," explains E'sere. "It's the same as if I came straight out and said something. They'd think I were up to something, too. We need to teach you how to... pad your words, but not take away any of the meaning. The fact that you are so straightforward can be an asset; it just has to be tempered with a little wisdom. And patience."
"It's annoying." Aivey replies, still sullen, "Like dancing and wearing dresses and talking sweet and not saying what you really mean." She's still glaring at E'sere, though there's no ire behind it. Only frustration. "You're going to be late."
"No," E'sere notes, with a shake of his head. "Not that much. Just a little softening. It just wouldn't be you otherwise. Dances and fancy dresses are fun for a night, but." A shrug. "Wouldn't want to do that all the time. It'd get old." Her latter claim, of his tardiness, goes unanswered.
"They still won't buy it." Though she doesn't /need/ to, Aivey falls back against his side, trying her very best to squirm under his arm while wrapping hers around his middle, "It's like playing, right? Only not trying to scare them?"
"Just another form of playing," agrees E'sere, nodding as he slides his arms back around Aivey. "Sometimes it's more fun--more challenging, I think. Subtlety is underrated."
"What's the point, then? If you're being nice or whatever... what's the point?" Aivey shifts slightly, "Before it was easy. I needed to find what scared them. What made them doubt themselves. What would be good to use against them. What's the point with subtlety?"
"It's slower, usually," admits E'sere. "I've been working on people my whole life and in some cases I still haven't made the kind of headway that I want. But you learn about the person all the same, by getting closer to them, by watching them every day and seeing them in different situations. And you learn how to get them to do things without having to resort to violence. Manipulation above coercion."
"It's faster to just threaten them." Aivey replies with a tight little sigh. "I don't like it. I think it's just easier to do things my way but-" Aivey tilts her head back and looks up at him, ending with a small, unfelt smile. "I can still practice on T'gar and Islay, right?" Another pause and Aivey starts to withdraw from E'sere. The tears are gone. Her face is still splotcy and red, but she's under control of her emotions. A plus. "You should go. We'll talk about this later."
"It's faster, yes, but it builds up resentment. They'll hate you for it," says E'sere, still patiently explaining the concept to Aivey. "If you play it right my way, you can get them to do whatever you want, and they'll still love you for it. And that's the art of politics. We'll work on it--Islay and T'gar, for a start, all right?" A pause. He studies her face a moment, then nods once and offers a small smile. "I should. I'll meet you for lunch. Shall I drop you off now, or should I just send Morelenth back up for when you want to come down?"
"I'll stay up here for now. Maybe go down later," Aivey replies with a small smile of thanks, "Be careful, alright?" She eases away, then slides down with the pillow propped under her chin. "Thanks... by the way. I. You know, right?" She doesn't say it, but a lingering look and the smallest of smiles might suggest the thanks that doesn't come.
"I'll send up him when I get through with him, then," E'sere agrees, nodding once. "And I know." He leans down to offer a brief kiss, then pushes himself to his feet to head out to meet his dragon.
Aivey isn't shy in returning the kiss, or with offering a promising whisper about 'later tonight' - but truly, that can mean any number of things. She settles back, watching him go out. It's not until she's sure Morelenth has carried him off to his drills that she steals away from the pillow and bed, disappearing into that corner where Asshole is kept. He's cradled in the crook of her arm as she moves back to the bed and retreats there, the blanket drawn up and over her head.