Under the rug
What: The morning following this (thanks brazenbronzer!), comes the apology and the makeup.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
Come morning, Aivey is sound asleep. Half curled around E'sere with her head and shoulders resting against his chest, her hand just atop his stomach and the other pillowed beneath her head, it's quite safe to say she's well enough asleep that there will be no early-morning rising for her. Beneath the blanket tangled around her legs, one leg still remains looped over E'sere's.
E'sere is not asleep, however. His eyes are open, fixed on the wall as he rests his chin against Aivey's head, arms still looped around her. While she's still asleep, he's still, not moving lest he wake her up. Either he's being kind, or doesn't feel like facing her just yet.
Without E'sere doing anything to wake her up...she's not exactly prone to waking herself. And so Aivey slumbers on, moving only to nestle further against his chest or, rarer still, to hold a breath that seems a little /too/ long in exhaling.
That moment, on Aivey's part, inspires E'sere to lift his head slightly, glancing down at her to make sure she's not waking up just yet. He studies her dubiously, leaning away just slightly, then nestling back down himself, shifting his top arm around her to something more comfortable.
Aivey wakes come the nestling. Her hand tightens into a fist against his chest and she holds her breath again. By the time its released, her eyes have opened and they're fixed on E'sere. There is no smile of a greeting, but she does disentangle herself from his side while reaching for the blanket to cover her from the neck down. "So," An almost gruff thing there.
When Aivey pulls away, E'sere rolls over onto his side away from her, though he's not nearly so modest as to pull the covers up further. He looks up at the ceiling instead of at her. "Don't think this fixes anything," he says, monotone.
"I'm glad you said it," Aivey replies, "I was going to warn you myself." She gives the blanket another tug, seeking to wrap it fully around her in preparation for standing from the bed.
E'sere's answer is no answer at all, just a bare nod as he continues studying the ceiling with far more intensity than it deserves. He makes no move to stop her as she gets up.
"Sometimes," Aivey declares - not quite willing to let things go /this/ easily, "You're worse then a child. It makes me wonder what I even see in you in the first place." With a scornful frown over her shoulder toward him, Aivey retrieves her clothes and sheds the blanket to draw them on.
"What do you expect me to do, Aivey?" retorts E'sere, eyes cutting Aivey's way at last. "You--I've had a lot of people do that to me. I didn't think you'd be one of them, too. Whatever happened to your much-vaunted loyalty?"
"What I did for you... E'sere, I-" Aivey, either stunned into silence or unwilling to defend herself, abruptly shuts up and pulls her shirt over her head then roughly tugs it into place. "I need to be with someone who can handle me, apparently. You're not him."
"Nobody can handle you, Aivey," E'sere retorts, sitting up at that dig. "Your own father can't handle you, or just plain doesn't want to. What the fuck do you expect me to be able to do with you?"
"You talk about my father again and I swear, E'sere, it won't be a stick I bring back with me when I visit you next." Aivey turns to face him, her hands loosely fisted at her side, "I didn't mean to hurt you. The only thing I meant was that I was glad you weren't there for that damn knot because then you wouldn't be here with me." Her fisted hands relax, but only because she throws them up in frustration, "You're so damn thick headed!"
E'sere's frustrated gesture is to rake through his hair, frowning. Waspishly, he retorts, "I'll talk about your father if I damn well want to. You're not--you can't order me around like that." He pauses, and glances away, almost as if reconsidering. But he still adds, "You'd rather have me be miserable stuck here with you, than back home doing the one thing I want to do. Being what I'm supposed to be."
Aivey, at E'sere's proclamation, stalks the short distance separating them. Coming to a stop just beside him, she tilts her head down to better glare at him, "You'll damn well /not/ talk about him," A warning edge might just be that - a warning she won't back up. "I'd rather have you alive and here with me, then back at the damn 'Reaches with a fucking knot that my father is going to pluck from some corpse before he shreds it over their face."
"That knot is--" E'sere notes, not backing down despite having Aivey in his face. He breaks off, though, glares back at her, and finally makes a disgusted noise. "I may not be able to handle you, but you can't understand me," he replies, moving to lie back down.
"E'sere-" Aivey's anger leaves her just like that. Her features draw into the second closest thing to sadness that she's shown. The clench of her jaw and pop of a knuckle might say otherwise, but the sadness is prevalent. "I won't ever be sorry it's not you. You're mine."
From his position on his back, E'sere watches the ceiling again. "That knot is--" he begins again, after another moment of silence. Silence, again. Then, quiet: "It's knowing your father is out there, somewhere, and you're doing everything you can for him, to help him, to reach him, and you just--can't. What you do is never enough."
"How do you think I ended up where I did?" Aivey counters, fidgeting with her hands, "I don't want that for you, E'sere. I know it's... I know it's the most important thing to you but..." Instead of finishing, Aivey drops back down to the bed, crawling to and curling against his side, "I hate that you make me feel like this." Unfelt.
"How do you think I ended up here?" replies E'sere, not looking. "Well. I don't want it for you, either." Her father. He stiffens when she crawls against him, and doesn't move. "Like what?" he asks blandly.
E'sere stiffening takes some of the edge of Aivey's need for honesty. She shakes her head - her back is to him so he's not going to see her close her eyes, "Never mind." A pause, then, "Like I'd rather claw my own eyes out then unintentionally piss you off. Like I want to protect you like I'd do for my own father." She tugs at the neckline of her shirt, burying her chin behind it.
"Like you'd already do for him," repeats E'sere, frowning. "Because he always comes first. He might as well live here, too--there's room, right here between us." He nudges at Aivey's back without feeling, his tone bitterness overlaid with resignation.
"Morelenth always comes first," Aivey points out, ignoring the nudge to her back, "-anyone else, I'd let fend for themselves." It's an addendum to her earlier statement, muffled by the fabric of her shirt, "I really didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
"No, he doesn't," E'sere disagrees. "Because he--we have an understanding. He's willing to let me come first, or whatever I want to come first, because what he wants is me to just be... happy." Which isn't, to judge by E'sere's voice, a happy thought. Resigned, though, he adds to her latter words, "I know. But 'didn't mean to' doesn't fix anything."
"Yeah, well, I can't so-" Aivey shrugs, drawing her chin out from behind her neckline to pillow it atop her hand, "There's plenty I can be mad about you for, but I'm not. Just... let's not ever talk about it again, alright?"
"Because shoving it under a rug makes it all better," says E'sere sarcastically--also hypocritically. "Fine," he does agree, though, glancing back upward. "Let's forget it."
"Talking about it doesn't make it better either," Aivey replies, "What do you want me to do, then?"
"Forget it," E'sere says, with a gesture to emphasize, frowning. "You want to forget it, that's fine with me. I don't care. Are you going to drop it now or not?"
"Sure. Fine, whatever." Blase about it, Aivey lifts a shoulder into a shrug to show just how much she /doesn't/ care about the subject *or* E'sere's sullen manner.
"Good," says E'sere, glancing briefly down at Aivey when she shrugs. He's silent, then shrugs himself and scoots down a little further, tugging the blanket back into order like he's getting ready to go back to sleep.
Aivey doesn't respond. When E'sere tugs on the blanket, she doesn't fight for her corner nor does she curl into her customary spot at his side. If the bronzerider can sulk, well, she can to.
Good will gesture or maybe just habit, E'sere doesn't stay still for long before, with a release of breath, he turns over and scoots over to his customary spot behind Aivey. He isn't quite so generous yet as to put his arm around her, though.
Aivey, well, she's got the whole sour thing down pat. "Asshole." It's an endearment, really, because Aivey doesn't pull away. Instead, she adjusts the blanket then lightly nudges his stomach with her elbow. Waiting. Always waiting.
"Yeah," E'sere agrees, then slides his arm back in place around her.
Aivey drops her arm down over his and clasps her hand around his wrist. It's tugged into place, adjusted just like she would a blanket before she falls still with his fist resting just below her chin.
Who: E'sere, Aivey
Where: Their place
Come morning, Aivey is sound asleep. Half curled around E'sere with her head and shoulders resting against his chest, her hand just atop his stomach and the other pillowed beneath her head, it's quite safe to say she's well enough asleep that there will be no early-morning rising for her. Beneath the blanket tangled around her legs, one leg still remains looped over E'sere's.
E'sere is not asleep, however. His eyes are open, fixed on the wall as he rests his chin against Aivey's head, arms still looped around her. While she's still asleep, he's still, not moving lest he wake her up. Either he's being kind, or doesn't feel like facing her just yet.
Without E'sere doing anything to wake her up...she's not exactly prone to waking herself. And so Aivey slumbers on, moving only to nestle further against his chest or, rarer still, to hold a breath that seems a little /too/ long in exhaling.
That moment, on Aivey's part, inspires E'sere to lift his head slightly, glancing down at her to make sure she's not waking up just yet. He studies her dubiously, leaning away just slightly, then nestling back down himself, shifting his top arm around her to something more comfortable.
Aivey wakes come the nestling. Her hand tightens into a fist against his chest and she holds her breath again. By the time its released, her eyes have opened and they're fixed on E'sere. There is no smile of a greeting, but she does disentangle herself from his side while reaching for the blanket to cover her from the neck down. "So," An almost gruff thing there.
When Aivey pulls away, E'sere rolls over onto his side away from her, though he's not nearly so modest as to pull the covers up further. He looks up at the ceiling instead of at her. "Don't think this fixes anything," he says, monotone.
"I'm glad you said it," Aivey replies, "I was going to warn you myself." She gives the blanket another tug, seeking to wrap it fully around her in preparation for standing from the bed.
E'sere's answer is no answer at all, just a bare nod as he continues studying the ceiling with far more intensity than it deserves. He makes no move to stop her as she gets up.
"Sometimes," Aivey declares - not quite willing to let things go /this/ easily, "You're worse then a child. It makes me wonder what I even see in you in the first place." With a scornful frown over her shoulder toward him, Aivey retrieves her clothes and sheds the blanket to draw them on.
"What do you expect me to do, Aivey?" retorts E'sere, eyes cutting Aivey's way at last. "You--I've had a lot of people do that to me. I didn't think you'd be one of them, too. Whatever happened to your much-vaunted loyalty?"
"What I did for you... E'sere, I-" Aivey, either stunned into silence or unwilling to defend herself, abruptly shuts up and pulls her shirt over her head then roughly tugs it into place. "I need to be with someone who can handle me, apparently. You're not him."
"Nobody can handle you, Aivey," E'sere retorts, sitting up at that dig. "Your own father can't handle you, or just plain doesn't want to. What the fuck do you expect me to be able to do with you?"
"You talk about my father again and I swear, E'sere, it won't be a stick I bring back with me when I visit you next." Aivey turns to face him, her hands loosely fisted at her side, "I didn't mean to hurt you. The only thing I meant was that I was glad you weren't there for that damn knot because then you wouldn't be here with me." Her fisted hands relax, but only because she throws them up in frustration, "You're so damn thick headed!"
E'sere's frustrated gesture is to rake through his hair, frowning. Waspishly, he retorts, "I'll talk about your father if I damn well want to. You're not--you can't order me around like that." He pauses, and glances away, almost as if reconsidering. But he still adds, "You'd rather have me be miserable stuck here with you, than back home doing the one thing I want to do. Being what I'm supposed to be."
Aivey, at E'sere's proclamation, stalks the short distance separating them. Coming to a stop just beside him, she tilts her head down to better glare at him, "You'll damn well /not/ talk about him," A warning edge might just be that - a warning she won't back up. "I'd rather have you alive and here with me, then back at the damn 'Reaches with a fucking knot that my father is going to pluck from some corpse before he shreds it over their face."
"That knot is--" E'sere notes, not backing down despite having Aivey in his face. He breaks off, though, glares back at her, and finally makes a disgusted noise. "I may not be able to handle you, but you can't understand me," he replies, moving to lie back down.
"E'sere-" Aivey's anger leaves her just like that. Her features draw into the second closest thing to sadness that she's shown. The clench of her jaw and pop of a knuckle might say otherwise, but the sadness is prevalent. "I won't ever be sorry it's not you. You're mine."
From his position on his back, E'sere watches the ceiling again. "That knot is--" he begins again, after another moment of silence. Silence, again. Then, quiet: "It's knowing your father is out there, somewhere, and you're doing everything you can for him, to help him, to reach him, and you just--can't. What you do is never enough."
"How do you think I ended up where I did?" Aivey counters, fidgeting with her hands, "I don't want that for you, E'sere. I know it's... I know it's the most important thing to you but..." Instead of finishing, Aivey drops back down to the bed, crawling to and curling against his side, "I hate that you make me feel like this." Unfelt.
"How do you think I ended up here?" replies E'sere, not looking. "Well. I don't want it for you, either." Her father. He stiffens when she crawls against him, and doesn't move. "Like what?" he asks blandly.
E'sere stiffening takes some of the edge of Aivey's need for honesty. She shakes her head - her back is to him so he's not going to see her close her eyes, "Never mind." A pause, then, "Like I'd rather claw my own eyes out then unintentionally piss you off. Like I want to protect you like I'd do for my own father." She tugs at the neckline of her shirt, burying her chin behind it.
"Like you'd already do for him," repeats E'sere, frowning. "Because he always comes first. He might as well live here, too--there's room, right here between us." He nudges at Aivey's back without feeling, his tone bitterness overlaid with resignation.
"Morelenth always comes first," Aivey points out, ignoring the nudge to her back, "-anyone else, I'd let fend for themselves." It's an addendum to her earlier statement, muffled by the fabric of her shirt, "I really didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
"No, he doesn't," E'sere disagrees. "Because he--we have an understanding. He's willing to let me come first, or whatever I want to come first, because what he wants is me to just be... happy." Which isn't, to judge by E'sere's voice, a happy thought. Resigned, though, he adds to her latter words, "I know. But 'didn't mean to' doesn't fix anything."
"Yeah, well, I can't so-" Aivey shrugs, drawing her chin out from behind her neckline to pillow it atop her hand, "There's plenty I can be mad about you for, but I'm not. Just... let's not ever talk about it again, alright?"
"Because shoving it under a rug makes it all better," says E'sere sarcastically--also hypocritically. "Fine," he does agree, though, glancing back upward. "Let's forget it."
"Talking about it doesn't make it better either," Aivey replies, "What do you want me to do, then?"
"Forget it," E'sere says, with a gesture to emphasize, frowning. "You want to forget it, that's fine with me. I don't care. Are you going to drop it now or not?"
"Sure. Fine, whatever." Blase about it, Aivey lifts a shoulder into a shrug to show just how much she /doesn't/ care about the subject *or* E'sere's sullen manner.
"Good," says E'sere, glancing briefly down at Aivey when she shrugs. He's silent, then shrugs himself and scoots down a little further, tugging the blanket back into order like he's getting ready to go back to sleep.
Aivey doesn't respond. When E'sere tugs on the blanket, she doesn't fight for her corner nor does she curl into her customary spot at his side. If the bronzerider can sulk, well, she can to.
Good will gesture or maybe just habit, E'sere doesn't stay still for long before, with a release of breath, he turns over and scoots over to his customary spot behind Aivey. He isn't quite so generous yet as to put his arm around her, though.
Aivey, well, she's got the whole sour thing down pat. "Asshole." It's an endearment, really, because Aivey doesn't pull away. Instead, she adjusts the blanket then lightly nudges his stomach with her elbow. Waiting. Always waiting.
"Yeah," E'sere agrees, then slides his arm back in place around her.
Aivey drops her arm down over his and clasps her hand around his wrist. It's tugged into place, adjusted just like she would a blanket before she falls still with his fist resting just below her chin.