[Log] Your Life, Your Love
Who: Aivey, E'sere
When: Day 24, Month 3, Turn 3, 7th Pass
Where: Forest, Western Islands
What: E'sere and Aivey have chores together. They're mostly civil.
Previously, E'sere, for all he's not a shirker of chores, has not been known as a terribly industrious little exile, either. In the days since Aivey stopped visiting his weyr, however, he's been a good deal harder worker, and today is no exception. Cutting his lunch break shorter than most, he's soon heading back out to the forest, where his day's chore has him gathering wood and splitting it for the fires.
What normally would be an enjoyable experience for Aivey, for any number of reasons (some not entirely flattering to E'sere himself, which was another one of those benefits), is now a dreaded one. Having skipped lunch and been drafted to haul wood back to the main area of the camp, it's she who approaches E'sere while winding a cloth around her head. Her approach is silent, as is her regard of the bronzerider. After a moments pause, she says, "Can we be civil with this, E'sere?"
"I," says E'sere superiorly as he straightens, a few sticks in hand, "am always civil." He bends back down to pick up another at his feet, not looking back to Aivey. "Very civil," he adds to himself, as if it's a reminder for him. Then, aloud: "And how are you today? Working hard? I didn't see you this morning."
"Of course," Aivey allows, generously, "I never said different." She approaches closer, stooping to retrieve a few sticks beyond his reach. Cradling them in her arm and half against her chest while watching the bronzerider, Aivey says, "I'm up early every morning now. Usually down by the beach. How's Morelenth?"
"I've been up earlier myself," E'sere notes, continuing to work steadily--that in itself different from his usual idly chattiness when interrupted. "I like to get an early start on chores when I can. Morelenth is well, of course. Your father?" His tone is innocuous.
"Haven't seen him for a couple of days. He's been busy." Aivey replies, moving to deposit her current armload off to the side, "I'm suppose to later, maybe." She shrugs, dismissing the matter as inconsequential before turning the table back on E'sere, "Do you fly soon?"
"Give him my regards when you do," E'sere notes absently as he starts his own pile rather than adding to Aivey's. Then, in answer: "In a couple of days, though I don't believe it will be a bad one. A glancing 'Fall, to our islands, at least."
"Of course," Aivey repeats her earlier words, adding a nod and a small smile in E'sere's direction, "I haven't forgotten the last time you asked." She glances at his pile and cuts the shake of her head short. "That's good. Be careful all the same. You never know, you know?"
"I didn't know if you'd seen him since then, or were still holding on to them from last time," E'sere notes with a shrug as he leans down again to begin gathering anew. "And I will, of course," he adds, glancing up at Aivey with a half-smile. "I always am; I'd like to keep my prettiness intact. Thank you for your concern, though." The words are polite, the tone, too, but somehow, the sentiment rings just a little bit hollow.
The whole of the conversation rings of that hollowness, even from Aivey's end. Though she carries it as though it weren't. "Naturally. I wouldn't expect anything less." She fumbles with a log and stifles a curse while bending to retrieve it, "Have you talked with J'lor lately?"
"Not lately," E'sere answers, straightening and rubbing a hand across his brow, then through his hair. A flask of water is leaned up against the trunk of a tree nearby, and he goes to take a swig of it, even offers it toward Aivey generously, while he says, "I should, though; I told him I would again. We've quite a lot to discuss, I'm sure."
"J'lor-" Aivey muses, reaching out to accept the flask and take a quick drink herself, "I might pay him a visit myself. It's been a while. Diya too. I'm becoming quite the socialite." She holds the flask back, releasing it as soon as E'sere reaches back for it, "I still feel a little out of my league though."
"A real lady," agrees E'sere, catching the flask, taking another sip, then recapping it and setting it aside again to get back to work. "I suppose you would, in their company. I've not seen the Weyrwoman myself lately; thank you for reminding me. I'll be sure to speak with her after I do J'lor."
"You flatter me so," Aivey quips, turning her back to E'sere to resume her work, "Calling me a lady. I think I'll faint now." Only she doesn't, and there's the slightest twist of sarcasm in her tone, "I wasn't talking about them, though. I've dealt with my fair share of gold and blueriders, remember?"
E'sere kneels to gather up several smaller twigs, glancing sideways at Aivey. "Oh?" he queries. "Whom were you, then?"
For a long moment, Aivey doesn't reply. More twigs are collected, some taking her just slightly out of view of E'sere. When she returns, she makes a point of dropping them in his pile and remaining within range, "The mainland, mostly. Not that I can't handle them again but that it's all going to happen too soon." As though that were even conceivable.
"I suppose," E'sere agrees, nodding slowly while he continues collecting sticks for the fires. "I'm rather looking forward to it, myself. I find I get on much better with them than I do those here: we've more in common. And has your father given you a timeframe, then?" Pause. "Your marching orders?"
Reasonably, Aivey points out, "You did belong there, E'sere. You made it your life. Your love." She shrugs and turns away, stepping past him to her pile though turns back to face him with her arms crossed over her chest, "Since day one - the day we arrived here - the only order my father ever gave me was a suggestion. And it involved you, E'sere." She searches out his eyes to enforce the truth behind the statement, "How typical of me to fail in that, too."
"My life," agrees E'sere easily, not looking at Aivey even when she studies him. "There's not much else out there for me, now is there?" He's silent a moment, the only sounds the rustle of leaves and the sticks as he gathers them up, then retreats to add them to his pile again, even though Aivey's used it herself now. Then, straightening, and dusting his hands off, he looks back to her. "And what was that, Aivey?"
"Your love," Aivey repeats, watching E'sere despite him not watching her, "Whatever you want is yours for the taking, E'sere, and you know the costs." While he's silent, she is too, still watching, never really looking away. "I told him you were important to me. He knew what it meant... even when I wasn't entirely sure myself. And he told me he didn't mind." Aivey waits all of a half second before adding, "You'll think or say that it's good he gave me permission because I wouldn't have gone with you if he'd have said stay away, and then I'll tell you that you're wrong. I'm not entirely blind to him, you'll make some smart ass comment about how I am and I'll get mad... but it's the truth. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd have told me I could be with you or not. I would've, regardless."
"I don't love anything," is E'sere's quick retort, before he takes a great deal of interest in gathering more sticks and not looking at Aivey, instead frowning at the wood. "Maybe he should have said no," he finally says. "And maybe you should have listened. It would have saved us both a lot of time."
"Wouldn't have done any good," Aivey replies, her features shifting into blank neutrality as E'sere denies loving anything, "You might not've, but I do. Even if he can be a wherry-headed ass." Dropping an armload of wood onto her pile, Aivey at last turns her back to E'sere to resume working, "I had fun. Considering it's how I justified staying with you when I knew better, I suppose it all worked out."
"I don't think," E'sere notes, words very precise, "that I was the one being an ass." He's silent a few more seconds, gathering more wood. Then, airily: "I suppose I can't complain: the sex was decent."
"I'm glad you think so," Aivey replies, an edge of complaint on her voice, "I suppose it's only the 'Reachian bronzeriders who don't live up to their reputation. Maybe I should've given D'ven a shot, after all." Carelessly tossing a few pieces of wood off into her pile, Aivey wipes her hands on her thighs before stooping to retrieve more wood.
"I'm sure I still have enough contacts on the mainland," says E'sere innocuously, pausing to look over at Aivey again, "to find you a few. Shall we try for one from every Weyr?" He taps his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see, there's K'ver of Ista--he's Weyrleader there, but you might like him still. He's a little rough around the edges. M'lik of Fort was at Caucus with me; he's very sweet, as I understand. Igen... Hmm. I believe I've sundered most of those relations, but I'm sure I could find /some/one. And Telgar--hmm. You should give S'lien a go, keep it in the family."
Aivey is silent for a moment, long enough to contain her anger and her surprise at the low blow. Toward it, she says, "I'm capable enough to find someone, but thank you all the same, E'sere." Aivey works in silence after that, the wood collected stacked neatly - almost compulsively so.
"Of course," E'sere notes, saccharine. "I'm happy to help." With a quick smile for her, he turns to work, too, falling silent and continuing to add wood to his stack.
Aivey might be more use to this sort of labor than E'sere or she might just want Out & Away, ASAP. The wood is stacked, and the basket it'd been placed into is hauled onto her back, the opposite shoulder from her scored one. "Remember," Aivey replies, turning to move away, "Watch yourself and him up there. I'll tell my father you said hello."
"We will," E'sere agrees simply, nodding once to her. "Good day, Aivey." Then, he turns to continue gathering, not looking back again.
In silence, Aivey continues on her way. It's not soon after that someone else arrives carrying another woven basket, this one empty. With a smile and nod, they set it upon the ground to join E'sere in collecting yet more wood for the camp population.
In the brief interlude that he's alone, E'sere kicks irritably at the dirt, but by the time his new companion arrives, he's back to working diligently, and silently.