[M'try] A walk in the rain, revisited.
RL Date: 7/12/10
IC Date: 3/8/23 --We back-dated this to the day before the landslide, 'cause we both failed to notice the bbpost when we started this scene. Go us. :P Log thievery again.
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
The weather outside is dismal. A fine, bright winter-- excepting the parts after the brownrider's birthday-- has lead into this drenched springtime, and people seem to be huddling indoors more than ever. Thankfully, now that there's food in the living cavern, most people seem to have cleared out of the nighthearth, leaving it empty except for M'try, hunkered down in one of those leather chairs with his riding gear drip-drying on the floor next to him, with (for a change) neither his sketchbook nor his notebook open. Instead, today, it's someone else's book: a well-worn, cloth-bound book he's reading while he picks at bread off a plate balanced on the arm of his chair.
It's from the living caverns that Nissa wanders in, pink-nailed fingers wrapped around a large mug of klah, plate with sweetrolls in the other hand and her jacket pinned under one arm. She's sleepy, and though she's taken the time to prepare for her morning by washing her face, brush her hair, etc, her normally-tumbled waves are in a tighter curl, spirals that the humidity in the air is fast-destroying. She's dry - yay for winged umbrellas! The hearth is approached with the air of one escaping crowds, a brief look over her shoulder at the din in the living caverns before turning back with a sigh of relief and continuing. Only to be brought up short by the sight of M'try. There's a pause where she almost turns away, but instead she, mindful of her full mug, eases down in one of the chairs beside him. He's reading, so her greeting is limited to a quiet, "Mornin’ M'try."
Likely, M'try came over here specifically to avoid having to make conversation. After all, when a person holes up in a side space with a book, it's usually not with the purpose of inviting chit-chat, so the first sound of approaching footsteps have him almost steadfastly refusing to look up, eyes pinned to the page while he flips it. But then there's a greeting and, with a quick smile flickering into place, he lifts his attention from the book, closing it with his index finger in the margin, and finds Vanissa seating herself. "Good morning," he answers back, attention going almost naturally to the pink-painted fingers. Which causes him to feign a hurt look, so sad; "You let someone else... but not me..." So crushed he can't even finish the thought.
Eyes are on the fire by the time he does look up, so he can go back to that book without worrying she's here to take his mind off of his reading or chatter his ear off. Both hands are cupped 'round that mug, held close in the way the sleep-deprived will do when inhaling the steam between sips to leach every bit of eye-opening goodness klah can offer. He says more than good morning and thus Nissa's head turns his way, eyes first dipping to his book to see that finger-held place. She'll let him get back to it, nodding politely to his continued comment as her eyes turn back to the fire- then say what? She swings back his way, blinks. Oh. Right! Harper-who-paints-on-people. Or wishes to. It's hard to keep the teasing smile from her tone as one hand leaves the cup to show him the luster of her long, slim nails. "I hardly think green would be right."
M'try reaches across the distance between those chairs with one hand, his palm held to land beneath those extended fingers so he can just lightly hold them up, his smile very briefly a wholly private thing. Then; "I have a great many colors of paint, Nissa. Including pink." Then, done amusing himself with his own personal jokes, he lifts his eyes back to hers, his smile now less internalized and more for her. "If only you'd asked," with a sigh of exaggerated longing.
Vanissa's hand remains there while she considers this. "Paint ain't the same thing as nail polish, though?" It's a genuine question; she doesn't know for sure, not being familiar enough with either medium to be decisive with that statement. Not sure what's prompting that amusement, suspicion kicks in, her hazel eyes narrow just slightly and she growls under her breath, "Yeah, I know, it's so not me. I need to get this stuff off." And she's making the move to pull her hand back to her own space, distracted enough by that last longing comment to pause, quirk a brow, "It was Jaeyi's idea, not mine. She did it. But-" and here something is remembered, "you have practice at nail-painting do you?" She eyes his nails, the unspoken thought clearly conveyed in that significant glance. Please say no.
"Granted," M'try concedes about the nail polish vs. paint issue, the pad of his thumb brushing briefly across the glossiness of that fingernail. "I could help you get it off if you really want it removed," he points out, his forehead twitching briefly as if he finds that particular turn of phrase a bit odd. Ahem. There's no polish on his nails, no, and they look more like they get chewed on than filed, but... "I admit, I have no practice at all at nail-painting. At least, not intentionally." So saying, he shows her the edge of his thumb, a bit splattered in red, but not on purpose, clearly.
Vanissa's spent less time talking than fooling around, though one would think being T'rev's sister she'd be well-familiar with odd turns of phrase enough to pick up on that immediately and have a quip flying right back at M'try in response. Alas. Her brother has been gone since she was twelve and busy with... life since coming to the Weyr, so that forehead twitch is unremarkable. "I think Jaeyi'd be all disappointed I didn't give girly a longer trial." Her hand flips towards the curls she's wearing with a grimace, "Y'shoulda seen what she did with my face yesterday." No practice, he says and there's relief over that. Huh. Not so weird, after all this harper who doesn't paint his nails, unless it's that he wants to paint hers. Her offer is, "Next time?" as she leans to inspect his thumbnail. She grins, has to ask, "Kill something did ya?"
Brightly, M'try offers, "Perhaps you should have showed me. Though. I do think you have a lovely face as it is. Assuming what was done to your face is along the lines of what was done to your fingernails, perhaps I'm not so sorry to have missed it. I do like the curls, though." He folds his smudged thumb into his fingers, a fist hiding the digit, shaking his head at her question. "Only the last of this particular shade of red." Oh well, says the shrug that follows. As if her earlier remark has only just dawned on him-- "Why are you giving girly a trial at all?"
Wryly Nissa goes on to share (which really even though he's an artist, this subject could hardly be of interest to a guy), "It made my eyelashes feel stiff and sort of sticky and the lipstick felt weird-" Blink. Showed him? "You'd have laughed," Nissa offers much too quickly for that to have been the reason she didn't; he's laughed at her many a time and it's never bothered her one bit. But then, his comment about her face prompts her to say with a light laugh, "Oh really? Well then your toes would've curled for all the wrong reasons. Horror." Both hands needed to lift her mug, hers is back within her space to do so and she takes her time with that sip. Finally she turns his question back on him, "Do you know Jaeyi?" It's rhetorical; she knows he does.
"Probably," M'try concedes with a smile brightening his expression still further. "But who couldn't use a good laugh now and then?" The mention of his toes has him looking down briefly, his own presently booted so no telling if they're curling or not, and then he lifts his eyes back to Vanissa's questioningly-- is she going to explain that? "Peripherally," he answers to the Jaeyi question, shoulder shrugged. "I've seen her around," with no comments made about the seeing he's done. "And your brother's..." How to put it. "...enlisted my services on her behalf at one point. Dare I ask why you're asking?"
"I could've used one myself afterwards, so maybe I should have called ya," Nissa grins faintly even as she waves toe-curling away as unimportant, "Something Jaeyi said." And if he knows the baker, he can likely put two and two together. There's not a brow twitch about T'rev's hiring of M'try, although there's a curious light in her eyes, something between pent up amusement and unease. The only response to that as her eyes do a careful check to see that there's no one within listening distance is a bland, "Yeah I know, you painted T'rev for 'er." Mug halfway to her lips again, "Hmm? Oh! Jaeyi? Because you asked why give girly a try? She was all bubblin' about a make-over for Isandre and I, so. Coulda said no, but if you've seen her sad..." It's heartbreaking. Really! But enough of her, "Whatcha readin'?"
Waving his hand through the air briefly, M'try pantomimes the act of-- "Sketched him, actually, not painted." It's the kind of thing he thinks is worth distinguishing, though the rest of the world-- well, they probably have better things to worry about. "I had no idea you were so easily swayed by sentiment, Nissa. I might have resorted to pity years ago." He lifts the book almost absently once it comes to focus, glances idly at the spine, and waves it off with a vague, "Something I was going to lend to Isandre," speaking of, "but then I got engrossed. It's a mystery, but I already know the surprise ending. Do you want to..." Make out? "...borrow it?"
Distractedly, "Sketched, right, right. When Jaeyi said 'you should see the picture her whatever did of my whatever' I assumed painted. My bad." Nissa isn't really giving thought to what she's just said, her mind has been on something else all morning, hastened along by the mention of that book being lent to Isandre. "Ya need to talk to her. Somethin's botherin' the girl. And yes I care about folks. People think because I'm-" But then her mind skids to a halt, backs up and drags her eyes from the flames to M'try, "/Years/ ago?" Nevermind he's talking about her feeling sorry for him, she can only deal with so many people's feeling at a time and she's juggling several of her own right at the moment.
Forgive M'try for looking a touch keen, merry but also a little pleased in a small way, when he comments around a grin, "That makes me your whatever, then?" His brows climb questioningly, a quick twitch, then they resume their previous position when he clears his throat to look a little more soberly back at her, never mind his own eyes continue shining rather happily the whole time. "I have every intention of talking to her, hopefully about this book, should I find the chance to deliver it. As for years ago... I was mainly joking, but I certainly wouldn't have said no if pity would have served me."
Hating to burst his bubble - he's so cute when he's all bright-eyed like that, Nissa points out hastily and with flaming cheeks and a tinge of irritable, "I dunno what it makes ya! I was tryin' to define what 'seein' someone' meant and there was talk of kiwis and- nevermind it got real confusin'." Can the chair please swallow her whole now? Now pleeeeease? She nods to that book, "Don't wait til ya finish it to go find her, hmm?" Edgy now, blame it on the klah, which gets set on the hearth with a quick forward motion, tossed over her shoulder at him from where she's leaned is a bit of the old Nissa's twinkling grin, "That desperate then?"
It's not really bursting his bubble, not considering how simply he accepts, "I could live with 'seeing someone,' though 'whatever' has a slightly more open-ended ring to it." While Vanissa goes on-- talk of kiwis and what-not-- M'try puts on his best listening face, like he's just all kinds of thrilled to hear this particular tale, and his laugh is at least a little /at/ her instead of /with/ her when he notes, "It sounds like it was confusing. Fruit salads are complicated matters." As for his desperation-- "If I say 'yes,' that's rather insulting for both of us, don't you think? If I say 'no,' then it's fairly insulting for you. So how about... after kissing you the other day-- had I known then what I know now-- yes. I would have been that desperate."
M'try is awarded a wary look for that 'whatever' comment, but she doesn't try to choose between the two. She will just go with confusing and fruit salad and let him think she's a dizzy blonde, although embarrassing would certainly have been more the more truthful word to use. "I shouldn't've said anything to them anyway," she mutters. Sitting back upright, there's a wince when her teasing falls flat, the laughter fades from her eyes as she hears him out. Again with the foot in her mouth. And what he knows now? Could mean anything by the various expressions that flit across her face, but she can't make herself ask. Plate in hand, untouched sweetroll upon it, she rises. By the looks of things Liath's about to get another oiling. "Sorry, M'try." She's backing away this time. "I should let you... read."
Last time Vanissa got up to leave in a hurry, M'try totally failed to vault over the back of the couch to stop her. This time, in his haste, he knocks his plate right off the arm of his chair and almost tips the chair over in the process of getting to his feet, around the chair, and catching the greenrider before she can back away too far. Fool him twice... "Wait," he gets out promptly. "I was just teasing, being glib, not serious, pick your particular preference for how to phrase it. Please don't leave."
Wow. Nissa missed M'try's last failed attempt since her back was to him when she fled last time, so she's impressed to say the least. If he's not restraining her with a hand, she's rooted to the spot with wide eyes surprised at his sudden move. "I... see." Her lips part, more words likely meant to be said but she's visibly wrestling with how to phrase them. She tucks her chin, those curls tumble forward as her lashes drop, "I keep... I can't..." She sighs, tries again, "I'm just..." No no, that's not it. Finally, "I ain't mad at ya, M'try."
"Great," the brownrider says in a real lip-gnawing way, taking a tentative step nearer... another... like he's afraid Vanissa might bolt at any second. Considering what he's got as a previous incident, it's a reasonable assumption. "Then don't leave?" Taking a breath, M'try does reach for her then, his fingers first touching just the ends of hers, just falling away from the pink polish before, bravely, he folds his fingers around her hand. "Or at least tell me why you're leaving before you go? So I can add it to the long list of stupid things I've said that I shouldn't say in the future?" With a light, self-deprecating laugh and a hopeful peek down, trying to catch her lowered eyes with his.
It's got to look rather amusing, the sidling brownrider and the poised-to-run greenrider. Nissa doesn't yank her hand away and bolt, so maybe M'try can take that as a good sign that she won't run - at least not yet? "It ain't you!" He gets that peek of her eyes when her lashes lift to give him a swift, glittering look full of self-directed frustration, brief as her gaze avoids him once more in favor of finding the floor. In his hand her fingers twitch as once again she struggles with words that won't come. She's trying, her breasts rise and fall as her breathing speeds up until finally she blurts like she's telling him her deepest, darkest secret, "It's nothin' you said. It's me! I keep missin' meanings and stuff. I'm not very good at innuendoes. Never have been." And yet she still tries to cross wits with him, go figure.
Oh, it almost definitely looks funny, but M'try's being so earnest, so let's try not to laugh for a moment. His expression is all sympathy, all affection even, and he says in a light way, trying to make it less of an issue than it seems to be, "I'm not very good at being direct, so it should, at least, make things interesting." Vanissa's frustration-- and not her breasts, thanks, no matter what his usual preoccupations may be-- is what has him drawing on that hand to bring her closer, moving not to kiss her but to hug her. "Don't be upset, Nissa."
See now, it's that earnestness of M'try's that's getting to her. She's gotten fake-sincerity plenty of times when guys were after their own interests enough not to trust anyone ever. Ever. This is different, has her confused, unsure and feeling very un-Nissa-like. The sympathy and affection she reads in his expression just add to it. She gives in to the tug on her hand, stepping into his arms, dropping her head with a frustrated thump on his shoulder. "Ya sure ya want this kind of interestin'?" Because she just made him lose his breakfast, nearly hurdle a chair. Who knows what's next?
M'try has a quick reply handy. That's obvious by the way he very promptly takes a breath. But he realizes that the quips aren't really getting him very far, so he lets out that breath without saying anything for a spell, turning his head down just those couple of inches so his lips rest right where her forehead touches her hairline. "Are you? Considering what I very nearly said was, 'Well, since I'm already in it for the cost of a plate broken on the floor and the rest of my bread, I may as well stick with it.'" Despite that, with one arm around her waist and the other brought up to her shoulders, his palm finding its way under the crazy curls to the back of her neck, he adds truthfully, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Nissa, but I can't find any way to say it except yes. I do want this kind of interesting. I do want you." It's the last part that's easy to misconstrue.
With his lips near her hairline, her hair must be tickling his nose and still reeking with Jaeyi's fancy-scented shampoo. Hopefully the combination of sandalwood-amber perfume doesn't nauseate him. She really didn't take these things into consideration when overriding that vanilla stuff the baker wanted her to use, oh well. Nissa laughs quietly in spite of herself at that belatedly-shared quip, "This could get expensive, ya know. I guess it's a good thing you have a sideline to afford me?" She doesn't answer his 'Are you?' just yet because he starts taking again and with his hand moving on the back of her neck, well, that's a little distracting. Lifting her head, she's thoughtful. Finally, her eyes squint a wee bit and she hedges, "In what way might I take it wrong?" And yes, yes that last part could be misconstrued. This is /M'try/ she's hearing say this, to her, /Nissa/.
"I guess it's a good thing I haven't had much outlet for expenditures lately, yes," M'try answers lightly, saying nothing about the smell-- which could be a mute expression of enjoyment or him just politely avoiding the subject, no way to know for sure. Pragmatically, he sets to answer her latter question after a clear of his throat; "Generally speaking, when I write things like 'I want you,' the next line is usually something to the effect of 'and then all her clothes fell off.' Which is not precisely what I was driving at, though I wouldn't object." There's a pause, a laugh, a look around, "Perhaps not here, though." After a deep breath, shuttup-M'try, he adds, "All of that to say. I like you."
She had to ask a harper. It's hard not to laugh, in fact she nearly fails when he goes into just how she might misconstrue (and yes, that's par for the course from past experience). Ducking her head, biting her lips to get it under control, she manages finally, "Yeah, not here." T'rev might, hard to say, but no, she's not up with that. He's asked her before: is she sure? To put her present confusion into words is not easy. She makes a start, casually, "I've always liked ya, M'try." They lived together in the barracks, certainly if she disliked him, he'd know it! A half-smile quirks her lips, "It's always been fun playin' word games with ya. But...I'm seein' ya, M'try." And indeed, her gaze wanders over his face like she's never really quite seen him before. Still there's a diffidence about her, wary wars with wistful, "I'll admit I'm wantin' to know ya better." No, she's not smooth and sophisticated.
"That's comforting," says M'try quietly, that she's always liked him, the requisite half-humor in the tone. As for not here-- "Although, that would at least very quickly ensure that everyone was aware that we were more-than-friends." Still, he stops looking at the furniture for a second, ponderingly, and looks back to Vanissa instead, his smile more authentic to add. "In most any way that comment can be construed. Shall we sit back down or... go somewhere that we can talk without worry about who's listening?" Funny thing is, he very likely does mean 'talk' and not 'get undressed.'
That half-humored comment earns a look from Nissa. "You say that as if you're disappointed. It could be worse? I could have always hated your guts?" There's a shake of her head as her glance follows his to the furniture. "Let's... get out of here? Before certain folks decide that broken plate over there was aimed at me and decide to actually hit me with theirs?" Back to him, impish now, "Do you feel like a walk in the rain, M'try? I hear there's this bench in the herb garden that's magical."
"I heard crockery makes for good ammunition," M'try answers with his eyes going to a broken fragment of plate. There's reluctance in the gesture, but-- after a brief tightening of his arm around the greenrider's waist-- he detaches himself to go and clean up the mess, shooting a look up at her from where he's crouching to smirk briefly. "Do you want me to point out that you'll get soaked and I'll spend the entire time quietly wishing that you were wearing white?" At least he's candid, yes?
Laughingly, "It does!" Nissa can attest to this, as he already knows. "Any suggestions as to what makes for good shields? Besides ducking behind you, because I'd hate to be responsible for your pain - even indirectly." At which words her laughter falters, but it's perhaps lost in his movement away just then and her following a few steps to reach under the chair for a shard, which gets handed to him solemnly. "That'd would be very sad for you, hmm. Because I'd have my jacket on and even if I took it off..." A glance down to her shirt, which definitely isn't white, in fact it's a rather dark midnight blue. At least the rain might wash some of that leftover shampoo scent from her hair?
M'try peeks up over the arm of the chair at the moment her laughter ceases, his expression keenly questioning even while he's saying, "You assume I'd simply stand there and let someone lob crockery at me in your defense. We've covered the matter of my cowardice at length, I'm reasonably sure." Collecting up all the pieces, including the one he collects from Vanissa on his upturned palm, he stands shortly afterward to laugh, "Then I suppose that it's lucky for both of us that I have an active imagination." The pieces, collected, get dropped into the pocket of the coat he dons presently. There's a 'shall we?' in his expression when he offers his hand to her this time.
From where Nissa has settled on the other arm of that chair to watch him finish his collection, that keen expression goes apparently unnoticed, for there's no explanation. Instead the greenrider merely lifting her forefinger to clarify, "That's assumin' I'd warn ya beforehand. Not so. I'd be duckin' at the last minute. I've gotten pretty good at that." Watching those shards get dumped in M'try' jacket pocket, there's a snort of amused disbelief, "You're keeping them? For what... some sort of... art project?" She places her hand in his when it's offered without hesitation, rises from the chair with an easy grace, curtsies, "Lead on M'lord." Walking through the cavern hand in hand with M'try. It's different. But... well? If people want to talk, point and laugh let them! M'try has crockery she can throw.
"Oh, no," M'try answers casually, lacing fingers with Vanissa without a second thought, leading through the caverns in a roundabout way to avoid the living cavern, though it seems more habitual on his part than an effort to avoid anything. "I'm keeping them because I don't care to take the time to find a rubbish bin for them. Or perhaps as a memento." The last added on with a grin flicked her way, though he has to give the pouring rain outside a wary look when it's first glimpsed down a long tunnel. "Are you sure," he adds with a scrunched nose, "that you wouldn't rather just stroll through the caverns where it's dry?" Or make out?
"Your weyr must be a cluttered mess," Nissa observes drolly to that grin he sends her way. Of course she's assuming he keeps mementoes of every mundane event in his life if he's keeping those shards. It's pouring, but it's Spring it's warm rain? "I'd like to get away from echoing tunnels and people for awhile, but if you'd rather not visit your former home, I suppose I can wait for a sunny day. Do you have any other options in mind?" She tsks an afterthought, "How would you ever have survived there is beyond me."
Aww, geez. Just twist the guy's arm, why doesn't she? M'try turns up his collar manfully, sticks his empty hand in his pocket along with the bits of broken plate-- thankfully not to slice the crap out of his fingers-- and leads the way out into the cool (not like a balmy shower or anything!) rain, across the bowl, to the gardens, there to revisit that one particular bench, awww. Eventually, like it or not, things like drills are bound to come up, and it's that unfortunate excuse that has the brownrider, now dripping wet and a little chilled, standing after a while spent all flirting and chatting. "Can I run into you on purpose soon? Instead of just randomly at breakfast?"
He needs to toughen up anyway. Or use that overactive imagination of his to wish for white to help him endure. And while that rain isn't as warm as Nissa might have hoped and it totally takes those spiral curls out that Jaeyi so painstakingly put into her hair, at least the air is fresh and there's no one to point and laugh at whatever foolishness the two engage in out there. Because there's like NOBODY else fool enough to be out here. M'try must endure further quips about his 'home', and a reminder that this is where she found him - he came out here in the rain at least once without her coercion. He asks and she, with water dripping off the end of her nose, running down her cheeks, lashes all spiky with the rain answers, "You asked me that the other day and I already said yes? Are you waiting for some special occasion to make it happen?"
"/Now/ I am," M'try answers with an indignant little sniff, like he wasn't before but if she's gonna be like that... This is where he ought to tack on a kiss goodbye, ought to plant one on her, but it's M'try and he hasn't got that kinda mojo, as has been well-established. What he does have is a charmed little smile for the disheveled look of her, his thumb and forefinger lifted briefly to reach toward the droplet rolling from her chin to her nose, just trying to snag it. "I have a few projects I want to finish before I get... wholly distracted. By you. And your hair." He just /had/ to throw that last bit on with a look at her bangs, grinning.
It could be genuine or an act: "Really?" Nissa sounds all delighted and cheery, awarding him a radiant smile and she's just shy of wriggle there with her enthusiasm. A special occasion! For her? "Where're we goin’? Or is it a surprise? Should I dress up? Have Jaeyi fix me up? Cos you know, she'll be all over that. And when, cos you know these things take plannin’ around her schedule..." If he doesn't have the mojo to kiss her he might want to do it just to shut her up. Or he might want to flee, even if he has had his fill of running!
M'try tries to get in a, "No-- don't--" Yes. He's going to have to kiss her just to shut her up, yes. Scooping one hand under her chin, the other one under her hair at the back of her neck, he hastily draws her over and parks a firm kiss on Vanissa's lips, mumbling into that, "Calm down. We'll go somewhere warm, you don't have to get dressed up, and Mohraith will be happy to tell Liath when." A few quick pecks afterward, little kisses at the corners of her mouth, and he's adding, "I have to run." Where 'run' makes him snicker. Him and the running.
IC Date: 3/8/23 --We back-dated this to the day before the landslide, 'cause we both failed to notice the bbpost when we started this scene. Go us. :P Log thievery again.
Nighthearth, Fort Weyr
An irregular archway leads into the alcove that houses Fort Weyr's nighthearth. The cozy little nook is kept stocked at all times with fresh, hot klah, a pot of stew and a basket of baked goods including breads and both savory and sweet filled rolls. Several leather upholstered chairs stand clustered around the hearth itself which has a grate for propping up chilled feet to warm up on cold days. The Weyr's aunties also keep the space well-supplied with a stack of perpetually renewed afghans in interesting color choices, while the headwoman's staff ensures that some of the older towels are always on hand for riders ducking in off of sweeps in bad weather. Otherwise, the nighthearth is undecorated but for the motley collection of mismatched mugs, bowls and spoons that line the mantel for general use.
The weather outside is dismal. A fine, bright winter-- excepting the parts after the brownrider's birthday-- has lead into this drenched springtime, and people seem to be huddling indoors more than ever. Thankfully, now that there's food in the living cavern, most people seem to have cleared out of the nighthearth, leaving it empty except for M'try, hunkered down in one of those leather chairs with his riding gear drip-drying on the floor next to him, with (for a change) neither his sketchbook nor his notebook open. Instead, today, it's someone else's book: a well-worn, cloth-bound book he's reading while he picks at bread off a plate balanced on the arm of his chair.
It's from the living caverns that Nissa wanders in, pink-nailed fingers wrapped around a large mug of klah, plate with sweetrolls in the other hand and her jacket pinned under one arm. She's sleepy, and though she's taken the time to prepare for her morning by washing her face, brush her hair, etc, her normally-tumbled waves are in a tighter curl, spirals that the humidity in the air is fast-destroying. She's dry - yay for winged umbrellas! The hearth is approached with the air of one escaping crowds, a brief look over her shoulder at the din in the living caverns before turning back with a sigh of relief and continuing. Only to be brought up short by the sight of M'try. There's a pause where she almost turns away, but instead she, mindful of her full mug, eases down in one of the chairs beside him. He's reading, so her greeting is limited to a quiet, "Mornin’ M'try."
Likely, M'try came over here specifically to avoid having to make conversation. After all, when a person holes up in a side space with a book, it's usually not with the purpose of inviting chit-chat, so the first sound of approaching footsteps have him almost steadfastly refusing to look up, eyes pinned to the page while he flips it. But then there's a greeting and, with a quick smile flickering into place, he lifts his attention from the book, closing it with his index finger in the margin, and finds Vanissa seating herself. "Good morning," he answers back, attention going almost naturally to the pink-painted fingers. Which causes him to feign a hurt look, so sad; "You let someone else... but not me..." So crushed he can't even finish the thought.
Eyes are on the fire by the time he does look up, so he can go back to that book without worrying she's here to take his mind off of his reading or chatter his ear off. Both hands are cupped 'round that mug, held close in the way the sleep-deprived will do when inhaling the steam between sips to leach every bit of eye-opening goodness klah can offer. He says more than good morning and thus Nissa's head turns his way, eyes first dipping to his book to see that finger-held place. She'll let him get back to it, nodding politely to his continued comment as her eyes turn back to the fire- then say what? She swings back his way, blinks. Oh. Right! Harper-who-paints-on-people. Or wishes to. It's hard to keep the teasing smile from her tone as one hand leaves the cup to show him the luster of her long, slim nails. "I hardly think green would be right."
M'try reaches across the distance between those chairs with one hand, his palm held to land beneath those extended fingers so he can just lightly hold them up, his smile very briefly a wholly private thing. Then; "I have a great many colors of paint, Nissa. Including pink." Then, done amusing himself with his own personal jokes, he lifts his eyes back to hers, his smile now less internalized and more for her. "If only you'd asked," with a sigh of exaggerated longing.
Vanissa's hand remains there while she considers this. "Paint ain't the same thing as nail polish, though?" It's a genuine question; she doesn't know for sure, not being familiar enough with either medium to be decisive with that statement. Not sure what's prompting that amusement, suspicion kicks in, her hazel eyes narrow just slightly and she growls under her breath, "Yeah, I know, it's so not me. I need to get this stuff off." And she's making the move to pull her hand back to her own space, distracted enough by that last longing comment to pause, quirk a brow, "It was Jaeyi's idea, not mine. She did it. But-" and here something is remembered, "you have practice at nail-painting do you?" She eyes his nails, the unspoken thought clearly conveyed in that significant glance. Please say no.
"Granted," M'try concedes about the nail polish vs. paint issue, the pad of his thumb brushing briefly across the glossiness of that fingernail. "I could help you get it off if you really want it removed," he points out, his forehead twitching briefly as if he finds that particular turn of phrase a bit odd. Ahem. There's no polish on his nails, no, and they look more like they get chewed on than filed, but... "I admit, I have no practice at all at nail-painting. At least, not intentionally." So saying, he shows her the edge of his thumb, a bit splattered in red, but not on purpose, clearly.
Vanissa's spent less time talking than fooling around, though one would think being T'rev's sister she'd be well-familiar with odd turns of phrase enough to pick up on that immediately and have a quip flying right back at M'try in response. Alas. Her brother has been gone since she was twelve and busy with... life since coming to the Weyr, so that forehead twitch is unremarkable. "I think Jaeyi'd be all disappointed I didn't give girly a longer trial." Her hand flips towards the curls she's wearing with a grimace, "Y'shoulda seen what she did with my face yesterday." No practice, he says and there's relief over that. Huh. Not so weird, after all this harper who doesn't paint his nails, unless it's that he wants to paint hers. Her offer is, "Next time?" as she leans to inspect his thumbnail. She grins, has to ask, "Kill something did ya?"
Brightly, M'try offers, "Perhaps you should have showed me. Though. I do think you have a lovely face as it is. Assuming what was done to your face is along the lines of what was done to your fingernails, perhaps I'm not so sorry to have missed it. I do like the curls, though." He folds his smudged thumb into his fingers, a fist hiding the digit, shaking his head at her question. "Only the last of this particular shade of red." Oh well, says the shrug that follows. As if her earlier remark has only just dawned on him-- "Why are you giving girly a trial at all?"
Wryly Nissa goes on to share (which really even though he's an artist, this subject could hardly be of interest to a guy), "It made my eyelashes feel stiff and sort of sticky and the lipstick felt weird-" Blink. Showed him? "You'd have laughed," Nissa offers much too quickly for that to have been the reason she didn't; he's laughed at her many a time and it's never bothered her one bit. But then, his comment about her face prompts her to say with a light laugh, "Oh really? Well then your toes would've curled for all the wrong reasons. Horror." Both hands needed to lift her mug, hers is back within her space to do so and she takes her time with that sip. Finally she turns his question back on him, "Do you know Jaeyi?" It's rhetorical; she knows he does.
"Probably," M'try concedes with a smile brightening his expression still further. "But who couldn't use a good laugh now and then?" The mention of his toes has him looking down briefly, his own presently booted so no telling if they're curling or not, and then he lifts his eyes back to Vanissa's questioningly-- is she going to explain that? "Peripherally," he answers to the Jaeyi question, shoulder shrugged. "I've seen her around," with no comments made about the seeing he's done. "And your brother's..." How to put it. "...enlisted my services on her behalf at one point. Dare I ask why you're asking?"
"I could've used one myself afterwards, so maybe I should have called ya," Nissa grins faintly even as she waves toe-curling away as unimportant, "Something Jaeyi said." And if he knows the baker, he can likely put two and two together. There's not a brow twitch about T'rev's hiring of M'try, although there's a curious light in her eyes, something between pent up amusement and unease. The only response to that as her eyes do a careful check to see that there's no one within listening distance is a bland, "Yeah I know, you painted T'rev for 'er." Mug halfway to her lips again, "Hmm? Oh! Jaeyi? Because you asked why give girly a try? She was all bubblin' about a make-over for Isandre and I, so. Coulda said no, but if you've seen her sad..." It's heartbreaking. Really! But enough of her, "Whatcha readin'?"
Waving his hand through the air briefly, M'try pantomimes the act of-- "Sketched him, actually, not painted." It's the kind of thing he thinks is worth distinguishing, though the rest of the world-- well, they probably have better things to worry about. "I had no idea you were so easily swayed by sentiment, Nissa. I might have resorted to pity years ago." He lifts the book almost absently once it comes to focus, glances idly at the spine, and waves it off with a vague, "Something I was going to lend to Isandre," speaking of, "but then I got engrossed. It's a mystery, but I already know the surprise ending. Do you want to..." Make out? "...borrow it?"
Distractedly, "Sketched, right, right. When Jaeyi said 'you should see the picture her whatever did of my whatever' I assumed painted. My bad." Nissa isn't really giving thought to what she's just said, her mind has been on something else all morning, hastened along by the mention of that book being lent to Isandre. "Ya need to talk to her. Somethin's botherin' the girl. And yes I care about folks. People think because I'm-" But then her mind skids to a halt, backs up and drags her eyes from the flames to M'try, "/Years/ ago?" Nevermind he's talking about her feeling sorry for him, she can only deal with so many people's feeling at a time and she's juggling several of her own right at the moment.
Forgive M'try for looking a touch keen, merry but also a little pleased in a small way, when he comments around a grin, "That makes me your whatever, then?" His brows climb questioningly, a quick twitch, then they resume their previous position when he clears his throat to look a little more soberly back at her, never mind his own eyes continue shining rather happily the whole time. "I have every intention of talking to her, hopefully about this book, should I find the chance to deliver it. As for years ago... I was mainly joking, but I certainly wouldn't have said no if pity would have served me."
Hating to burst his bubble - he's so cute when he's all bright-eyed like that, Nissa points out hastily and with flaming cheeks and a tinge of irritable, "I dunno what it makes ya! I was tryin' to define what 'seein' someone' meant and there was talk of kiwis and- nevermind it got real confusin'." Can the chair please swallow her whole now? Now pleeeeease? She nods to that book, "Don't wait til ya finish it to go find her, hmm?" Edgy now, blame it on the klah, which gets set on the hearth with a quick forward motion, tossed over her shoulder at him from where she's leaned is a bit of the old Nissa's twinkling grin, "That desperate then?"
It's not really bursting his bubble, not considering how simply he accepts, "I could live with 'seeing someone,' though 'whatever' has a slightly more open-ended ring to it." While Vanissa goes on-- talk of kiwis and what-not-- M'try puts on his best listening face, like he's just all kinds of thrilled to hear this particular tale, and his laugh is at least a little /at/ her instead of /with/ her when he notes, "It sounds like it was confusing. Fruit salads are complicated matters." As for his desperation-- "If I say 'yes,' that's rather insulting for both of us, don't you think? If I say 'no,' then it's fairly insulting for you. So how about... after kissing you the other day-- had I known then what I know now-- yes. I would have been that desperate."
M'try is awarded a wary look for that 'whatever' comment, but she doesn't try to choose between the two. She will just go with confusing and fruit salad and let him think she's a dizzy blonde, although embarrassing would certainly have been more the more truthful word to use. "I shouldn't've said anything to them anyway," she mutters. Sitting back upright, there's a wince when her teasing falls flat, the laughter fades from her eyes as she hears him out. Again with the foot in her mouth. And what he knows now? Could mean anything by the various expressions that flit across her face, but she can't make herself ask. Plate in hand, untouched sweetroll upon it, she rises. By the looks of things Liath's about to get another oiling. "Sorry, M'try." She's backing away this time. "I should let you... read."
Last time Vanissa got up to leave in a hurry, M'try totally failed to vault over the back of the couch to stop her. This time, in his haste, he knocks his plate right off the arm of his chair and almost tips the chair over in the process of getting to his feet, around the chair, and catching the greenrider before she can back away too far. Fool him twice... "Wait," he gets out promptly. "I was just teasing, being glib, not serious, pick your particular preference for how to phrase it. Please don't leave."
Wow. Nissa missed M'try's last failed attempt since her back was to him when she fled last time, so she's impressed to say the least. If he's not restraining her with a hand, she's rooted to the spot with wide eyes surprised at his sudden move. "I... see." Her lips part, more words likely meant to be said but she's visibly wrestling with how to phrase them. She tucks her chin, those curls tumble forward as her lashes drop, "I keep... I can't..." She sighs, tries again, "I'm just..." No no, that's not it. Finally, "I ain't mad at ya, M'try."
"Great," the brownrider says in a real lip-gnawing way, taking a tentative step nearer... another... like he's afraid Vanissa might bolt at any second. Considering what he's got as a previous incident, it's a reasonable assumption. "Then don't leave?" Taking a breath, M'try does reach for her then, his fingers first touching just the ends of hers, just falling away from the pink polish before, bravely, he folds his fingers around her hand. "Or at least tell me why you're leaving before you go? So I can add it to the long list of stupid things I've said that I shouldn't say in the future?" With a light, self-deprecating laugh and a hopeful peek down, trying to catch her lowered eyes with his.
It's got to look rather amusing, the sidling brownrider and the poised-to-run greenrider. Nissa doesn't yank her hand away and bolt, so maybe M'try can take that as a good sign that she won't run - at least not yet? "It ain't you!" He gets that peek of her eyes when her lashes lift to give him a swift, glittering look full of self-directed frustration, brief as her gaze avoids him once more in favor of finding the floor. In his hand her fingers twitch as once again she struggles with words that won't come. She's trying, her breasts rise and fall as her breathing speeds up until finally she blurts like she's telling him her deepest, darkest secret, "It's nothin' you said. It's me! I keep missin' meanings and stuff. I'm not very good at innuendoes. Never have been." And yet she still tries to cross wits with him, go figure.
Oh, it almost definitely looks funny, but M'try's being so earnest, so let's try not to laugh for a moment. His expression is all sympathy, all affection even, and he says in a light way, trying to make it less of an issue than it seems to be, "I'm not very good at being direct, so it should, at least, make things interesting." Vanissa's frustration-- and not her breasts, thanks, no matter what his usual preoccupations may be-- is what has him drawing on that hand to bring her closer, moving not to kiss her but to hug her. "Don't be upset, Nissa."
See now, it's that earnestness of M'try's that's getting to her. She's gotten fake-sincerity plenty of times when guys were after their own interests enough not to trust anyone ever. Ever. This is different, has her confused, unsure and feeling very un-Nissa-like. The sympathy and affection she reads in his expression just add to it. She gives in to the tug on her hand, stepping into his arms, dropping her head with a frustrated thump on his shoulder. "Ya sure ya want this kind of interestin'?" Because she just made him lose his breakfast, nearly hurdle a chair. Who knows what's next?
M'try has a quick reply handy. That's obvious by the way he very promptly takes a breath. But he realizes that the quips aren't really getting him very far, so he lets out that breath without saying anything for a spell, turning his head down just those couple of inches so his lips rest right where her forehead touches her hairline. "Are you? Considering what I very nearly said was, 'Well, since I'm already in it for the cost of a plate broken on the floor and the rest of my bread, I may as well stick with it.'" Despite that, with one arm around her waist and the other brought up to her shoulders, his palm finding its way under the crazy curls to the back of her neck, he adds truthfully, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Nissa, but I can't find any way to say it except yes. I do want this kind of interesting. I do want you." It's the last part that's easy to misconstrue.
With his lips near her hairline, her hair must be tickling his nose and still reeking with Jaeyi's fancy-scented shampoo. Hopefully the combination of sandalwood-amber perfume doesn't nauseate him. She really didn't take these things into consideration when overriding that vanilla stuff the baker wanted her to use, oh well. Nissa laughs quietly in spite of herself at that belatedly-shared quip, "This could get expensive, ya know. I guess it's a good thing you have a sideline to afford me?" She doesn't answer his 'Are you?' just yet because he starts taking again and with his hand moving on the back of her neck, well, that's a little distracting. Lifting her head, she's thoughtful. Finally, her eyes squint a wee bit and she hedges, "In what way might I take it wrong?" And yes, yes that last part could be misconstrued. This is /M'try/ she's hearing say this, to her, /Nissa/.
"I guess it's a good thing I haven't had much outlet for expenditures lately, yes," M'try answers lightly, saying nothing about the smell-- which could be a mute expression of enjoyment or him just politely avoiding the subject, no way to know for sure. Pragmatically, he sets to answer her latter question after a clear of his throat; "Generally speaking, when I write things like 'I want you,' the next line is usually something to the effect of 'and then all her clothes fell off.' Which is not precisely what I was driving at, though I wouldn't object." There's a pause, a laugh, a look around, "Perhaps not here, though." After a deep breath, shuttup-M'try, he adds, "All of that to say. I like you."
She had to ask a harper. It's hard not to laugh, in fact she nearly fails when he goes into just how she might misconstrue (and yes, that's par for the course from past experience). Ducking her head, biting her lips to get it under control, she manages finally, "Yeah, not here." T'rev might, hard to say, but no, she's not up with that. He's asked her before: is she sure? To put her present confusion into words is not easy. She makes a start, casually, "I've always liked ya, M'try." They lived together in the barracks, certainly if she disliked him, he'd know it! A half-smile quirks her lips, "It's always been fun playin' word games with ya. But...I'm seein' ya, M'try." And indeed, her gaze wanders over his face like she's never really quite seen him before. Still there's a diffidence about her, wary wars with wistful, "I'll admit I'm wantin' to know ya better." No, she's not smooth and sophisticated.
"That's comforting," says M'try quietly, that she's always liked him, the requisite half-humor in the tone. As for not here-- "Although, that would at least very quickly ensure that everyone was aware that we were more-than-friends." Still, he stops looking at the furniture for a second, ponderingly, and looks back to Vanissa instead, his smile more authentic to add. "In most any way that comment can be construed. Shall we sit back down or... go somewhere that we can talk without worry about who's listening?" Funny thing is, he very likely does mean 'talk' and not 'get undressed.'
That half-humored comment earns a look from Nissa. "You say that as if you're disappointed. It could be worse? I could have always hated your guts?" There's a shake of her head as her glance follows his to the furniture. "Let's... get out of here? Before certain folks decide that broken plate over there was aimed at me and decide to actually hit me with theirs?" Back to him, impish now, "Do you feel like a walk in the rain, M'try? I hear there's this bench in the herb garden that's magical."
"I heard crockery makes for good ammunition," M'try answers with his eyes going to a broken fragment of plate. There's reluctance in the gesture, but-- after a brief tightening of his arm around the greenrider's waist-- he detaches himself to go and clean up the mess, shooting a look up at her from where he's crouching to smirk briefly. "Do you want me to point out that you'll get soaked and I'll spend the entire time quietly wishing that you were wearing white?" At least he's candid, yes?
Laughingly, "It does!" Nissa can attest to this, as he already knows. "Any suggestions as to what makes for good shields? Besides ducking behind you, because I'd hate to be responsible for your pain - even indirectly." At which words her laughter falters, but it's perhaps lost in his movement away just then and her following a few steps to reach under the chair for a shard, which gets handed to him solemnly. "That'd would be very sad for you, hmm. Because I'd have my jacket on and even if I took it off..." A glance down to her shirt, which definitely isn't white, in fact it's a rather dark midnight blue. At least the rain might wash some of that leftover shampoo scent from her hair?
M'try peeks up over the arm of the chair at the moment her laughter ceases, his expression keenly questioning even while he's saying, "You assume I'd simply stand there and let someone lob crockery at me in your defense. We've covered the matter of my cowardice at length, I'm reasonably sure." Collecting up all the pieces, including the one he collects from Vanissa on his upturned palm, he stands shortly afterward to laugh, "Then I suppose that it's lucky for both of us that I have an active imagination." The pieces, collected, get dropped into the pocket of the coat he dons presently. There's a 'shall we?' in his expression when he offers his hand to her this time.
From where Nissa has settled on the other arm of that chair to watch him finish his collection, that keen expression goes apparently unnoticed, for there's no explanation. Instead the greenrider merely lifting her forefinger to clarify, "That's assumin' I'd warn ya beforehand. Not so. I'd be duckin' at the last minute. I've gotten pretty good at that." Watching those shards get dumped in M'try' jacket pocket, there's a snort of amused disbelief, "You're keeping them? For what... some sort of... art project?" She places her hand in his when it's offered without hesitation, rises from the chair with an easy grace, curtsies, "Lead on M'lord." Walking through the cavern hand in hand with M'try. It's different. But... well? If people want to talk, point and laugh let them! M'try has crockery she can throw.
"Oh, no," M'try answers casually, lacing fingers with Vanissa without a second thought, leading through the caverns in a roundabout way to avoid the living cavern, though it seems more habitual on his part than an effort to avoid anything. "I'm keeping them because I don't care to take the time to find a rubbish bin for them. Or perhaps as a memento." The last added on with a grin flicked her way, though he has to give the pouring rain outside a wary look when it's first glimpsed down a long tunnel. "Are you sure," he adds with a scrunched nose, "that you wouldn't rather just stroll through the caverns where it's dry?" Or make out?
"Your weyr must be a cluttered mess," Nissa observes drolly to that grin he sends her way. Of course she's assuming he keeps mementoes of every mundane event in his life if he's keeping those shards. It's pouring, but it's Spring it's warm rain? "I'd like to get away from echoing tunnels and people for awhile, but if you'd rather not visit your former home, I suppose I can wait for a sunny day. Do you have any other options in mind?" She tsks an afterthought, "How would you ever have survived there is beyond me."
Aww, geez. Just twist the guy's arm, why doesn't she? M'try turns up his collar manfully, sticks his empty hand in his pocket along with the bits of broken plate-- thankfully not to slice the crap out of his fingers-- and leads the way out into the cool (not like a balmy shower or anything!) rain, across the bowl, to the gardens, there to revisit that one particular bench, awww. Eventually, like it or not, things like drills are bound to come up, and it's that unfortunate excuse that has the brownrider, now dripping wet and a little chilled, standing after a while spent all flirting and chatting. "Can I run into you on purpose soon? Instead of just randomly at breakfast?"
He needs to toughen up anyway. Or use that overactive imagination of his to wish for white to help him endure. And while that rain isn't as warm as Nissa might have hoped and it totally takes those spiral curls out that Jaeyi so painstakingly put into her hair, at least the air is fresh and there's no one to point and laugh at whatever foolishness the two engage in out there. Because there's like NOBODY else fool enough to be out here. M'try must endure further quips about his 'home', and a reminder that this is where she found him - he came out here in the rain at least once without her coercion. He asks and she, with water dripping off the end of her nose, running down her cheeks, lashes all spiky with the rain answers, "You asked me that the other day and I already said yes? Are you waiting for some special occasion to make it happen?"
"/Now/ I am," M'try answers with an indignant little sniff, like he wasn't before but if she's gonna be like that... This is where he ought to tack on a kiss goodbye, ought to plant one on her, but it's M'try and he hasn't got that kinda mojo, as has been well-established. What he does have is a charmed little smile for the disheveled look of her, his thumb and forefinger lifted briefly to reach toward the droplet rolling from her chin to her nose, just trying to snag it. "I have a few projects I want to finish before I get... wholly distracted. By you. And your hair." He just /had/ to throw that last bit on with a look at her bangs, grinning.
It could be genuine or an act: "Really?" Nissa sounds all delighted and cheery, awarding him a radiant smile and she's just shy of wriggle there with her enthusiasm. A special occasion! For her? "Where're we goin’? Or is it a surprise? Should I dress up? Have Jaeyi fix me up? Cos you know, she'll be all over that. And when, cos you know these things take plannin’ around her schedule..." If he doesn't have the mojo to kiss her he might want to do it just to shut her up. Or he might want to flee, even if he has had his fill of running!
M'try tries to get in a, "No-- don't--" Yes. He's going to have to kiss her just to shut her up, yes. Scooping one hand under her chin, the other one under her hair at the back of her neck, he hastily draws her over and parks a firm kiss on Vanissa's lips, mumbling into that, "Calm down. We'll go somewhere warm, you don't have to get dressed up, and Mohraith will be happy to tell Liath when." A few quick pecks afterward, little kisses at the corners of her mouth, and he's adding, "I have to run." Where 'run' makes him snicker. Him and the running.