[Log] Watch Your Neck
Who: Aivey, Donavon (NPC), E'sere
When: Day 9, Month 4, Turn 3, 7th Pass
Where: Forest, Western Islands
What: E'sere and Aivey say their goodbyes.
Notes: Backdated.
E'sere has retreated for some alone time from the camp, heading further into the forest around the islands to relax and take some well-earned time off from his hard work of the last few weeks. The rider is seated against a tree at the edge of a small clearing near the streambank, working on inspecting and mending a few places in his dragon's straps, though Morelenth isn't to be seen around him now.
It is an island, so thankfully there's only so many places one person can go. If that person happens to be a rider, that number of places expands considerably, though as Morelenth was relatively easy to find, it led Aivey to the belief that the bronzerider could be found. Saying she was determined enough to do so. And after searching both low and high for said bronzerider, she at last comes upon him. There is no attempt to cloak her approach, nor the fact that it is her who does the approaching. Long before she reaches him, she calls out, "Spare a moment, E'sere?"
E'sere, giving the leather a tug to test its strength, is already frowning before Aivey calls out; at her familiar voice, he looks up, blinking. "What do you want?" he asks without preamble.
In this particular stead, a comfort zone where she doesn't feel outmatched, Aivey is able to wear several masks. The one she wears now is telling and foreboding, like a cat toying with a mouse. "My father sends his regards," she allows when she's within reach, her voice soft enough to carry to the two of them and them alone, "He sends them to Donavon as well."
"Thank you. You spoke with him then," E'sere notes. Where Aivey dons her mask, he slips into his own, that polite veneer that holds a small smile of gratitude and no warmth, words smooth and empty. "I hope it went well for you."
One corner of Aivey's lips curl into a smile. It is neither friendly nor inviting. "You were suppose to say 'did he now?' and I was going to reply, 'No, not really. But he did tell me that you think Donavon can do a better job of keeping you alive then I can'. Care to try this again?"
"I'm sorry; I must have lost my copy of the script," returns E'sere, unbothered. "You're a danger to me, Aivey. I have to spend more time worrying about what your mouth is doing than what mine is. Donavon follows /me/." Pause. "Besides, I simply don't care to be around you at this point."
"Alls forgiven. You're not perfect," Aivey replies, airily dismissive of E'sere's apology. "He follows you like a love-struck girl," she addendums to his defense of Donavon, "I took him down, E'sere, and you're going to trust him to watch your back? You're going to say I wouldn't do a better job then him when it came to that?" Her eyes, settling on E'sere, considerably intensify - daring him to say otherwise.
"I don't expect to need him," replies E'sere evenly, still in that hollow polite tone, his expression equally so. "I expect to have him stand at my back and look the part, which is all I will need. You won't impress anyone, Aivey. You won't scare them. And I'd feel /terrible/ if I stole you away from your more important business with your /father/."
Aivey smiles and takes a step back, her hands hooking behind her waist as one palm slides into the other. In the moment she makes for herself, she gives E'sere a casual once-over before saying, "Best to have someone look the part then actually be the part, I suppose. But you were always so concerned with appearances..." The amusement fades, slowly, casually. "It's your neck, though."
"It's my neck," agrees E'sere. "Though I do appreciate your concern, thank you, Aivey." It's intended to be a dismissal, and, should the words not be enough, he moves to pick back up his straps and resume his inspection of them.
Aivey is not so easily deterred. "There is one more thing," One hand reaches around front, the thumb and forefinger bent to indicate an amount, "A really small thing, if you'd give me another second of your valuable time."
E'sere stops, pausing for a moment before he looks up, that bland expression resumed. "Yes, Aivey?" he asks heavily, tone touched with impatience.
Pleasantly, Aivey asks, "Assuming this is the last time I'll ever see you again, and the sex was supposedly decent and all..." The other hand joins the first, both laying lax at her sides, "Would it be too much to ask for one last kiss? I do think I gave you that honor when you asked. Fair is fair, isn't it?"
"How optimistic of you, to assume I won't be returning," E'sere replies, arching a brow slightly. He does, though, move to fold up his straps loosely and set them aside, conceding, "Fine." Way to sound enthusiastic about it.
"Don't let me twist your arm or anything," Aivey replies with a demure drop of her chin. Her eyes remain fixed on E'sere, remaining the only part of her head that doesn't move. With him relenting, though, Aivey holds out a hand, inviting him closer, "I don't bite, remember? Completely harmless. Just little old me."
Wary, but acquiescing still, E'sere studies Aivey's hand, then reaches out to take it so he can stand and step over to her, very stiff. He doesn't answer, just looks down at her, expectant.
"That's not very romantic," Aivey complains, dropping her hand (still clutching his) down to her side. She draws onto her tiptoes, bridging the height distance between them in search of the asked-for kiss. The other hand reaches up, a natural enough effort that it might go unnoticed, might not warrant the attention it deserves. Even if it should, it lands harmlessly on his shoulder.
E'sere drawls, "I'm not going for romantic; I'm going for goodbye." Though he doesn't really relax but he does helpfully lean down just enough to meet Aivey's lips with his. With her hand on his shoulder, and his hand in hers, he automatically reaches the other to her waist, to hover lightly there.
"You know what they say about good-bye?" Aivey asks, hesitating in the kiss as much to taunt as to inform, "You say it when you don't plan on coming back." For a moment, there is an allowance. A real, visible worry that in E'sere's case /that/ will be the case. Aivey's expression hardens soon after, the split-second allowance gone as she gives in to the kiss. She lingers there, long enough to take from it what she wanted, long enough that the steal of her hand toward the back of his neck might not seem so strange, so preparatory. When she withdraws, the smooth edge of a stone is cradled against the side of his neck. Aivey's face remains an inch from E'sere's, her eyes still locked on his, "It'd be that easy," She states, "A knife instead of a stone and that'd be that." She releases her hold on the stone, allowing it to tumble harmlessly to the ground, and the hand holding his likewise releases its grip as Aivey settles back on her heels.
Throughout, E'sere doesn't move, simply watching Aivey impassively as she presses her stone to his throat. "But you won't do that," he tells her easily, glibly. "That might make your father unhappy. Maybe when I'm done being useful to him in a few days; time, you can try again. But until then--/even/ then--you don't scare me, Aivey. Now why don't you run along to cater to him some more, and leave me to my work?"
"Love to, but he's got company and I have a date." Aivey steps back, favoring E'sere with a smile. She might as well be looking at R'vain or someone else she hates as much as him - take your pick of any number of people - "Enjoy your work." Her smile re-appears and widens, purely for effect. Stepping past his shoulder, Aivey heads into the forest, likely to circle around, back toward the main encampment so as not to inadvertently walk into the wrong end of the islands ocean.
E'sere's polite smile is more strained than ever, as he stands stiffly in place and doesn't look at Aivey as she passes him. Instead, he glances down at his right hand, frowning at it and the cut now slicing through it. "That's it, walk away again," he tells Aivey, mockingly encouragingly, while he pokes the skin of his hand clinically and then clenches it, keeping it well away from his clothes--wouldn't want to stain them with any blood.
Aivey listens. She leaves, she does not turn around at the bait, continuing a fight that is mostly (for now) pointless. Plus? She has that whole date thing to attend to. A date who just happens to be Donavon, and likewise, won't be expecting her. That is half the fun.
Without anywhere near the amount of trouble it took her to find E'sere, she finds Donavon. The man is looked at, quite meaningfully. Standing in the shadows of the treeline leading into the forest, Aivey cants her head in that direction, lingering long enough to ensure she's been spotted and understood. Then she disappears back into them, moving through some small distance before resting her back against a tree to wait.
Donavon stops the moment he sees Aivey lurking at the treeline, frowning, brows knitting as he straightens and turns to look at her. He hesitates a moment, then shoots a quick glance around to make sure no one's watching before he slips away, heading after Aivey. He's definitely more than a little on edge; these meetings never seem to go well for him.
"Had a talk with my father," Aivey greets, as soon as she spots Donavon walking through the forest toward her. She adopts an indolent posture and attitude, lazily leaning against a tree, "E'sere and you are taking a little trip, aren't you?"
Donavon does not relax, not for a minute, as he comes to a stop a safe distance from Aivey. "What?" he says, frown deepening in confusion. "What are you talking about now?"
Aivey's gaze sharpens, considering Donavon before a slow smile surfaces. "Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news and all, but you and E'sere are taking a small trip." She pauses, for effect or otherwise, "E'sere thinks enough of you to pick you over me, but not to tell you... guess I shouldn't be too surprised..." She is, however, amused.
Donavon says nothing for several very long moments, just looking at Aivey. Finally, he asks, "You got that from your dad? What's he telling you this sort of stuff for, if it's our business?" Another pause, very suspicious indeed. "I really don't know what you're going on about."
"You should be use to not being told things you don't need to know," Aivey says with a small smirk, "I'll tell you this, though. It's important. What you and E'sere are going to do. I'm sure he'll fill you in as you're walking up to knock on whoever's door you're going to knock on... Anyways, that's between you and him, you're right on that. We have something else to discuss." In a tell, her left cheek twitches.
Donavon takes a step back, and doesn't answer the former words--what else can you say to the truth? Instead, he asks warily, "What's that, Aivey?"
"If E'sere doesn't come back, and by some fluke of whatever luck graces that head of yours - you do? A piece of advice. Don't come back here and don't let me catch you." Aivey knows (how can she not) that such words can easily be laughed off, but doesn't seem to care. She watches Donavon steadily, her posture still indolent and slack, tone lazy.
Someone who hadn't been on the end of Aivey's knife might laugh. Donavon doesn't. He simply looks at her, and finally nods. "I'll keep that in mind," he tells her. "That all?" He studies her intently, though, behind them, rustlings and crashing hail the approach of someone else from within the forest.
The rustling and crashing of whomever is approaching is more telling then not. Aivey doesn't need to look to see who it might be, doesn't feel the pinch of anticipation as she tries to decide if it's friend, foe or neither. "Not hardly but we're about to be interrupted." She shrugs, still entirely lazy, "Guess it'll have to do for now." She doesn't move, only the focus of her study does, landing on a tree to the immediate right of Donavon's shoulder.
Donavon is still eyeing Aivey when E'sere rounds a tree into view, and pulls up short when he finds the pair, looking up from his sick fascination with his bleeding hand. Said hand is quickly slid behind his back, clasped in the other to try to keep his clothes still blood-free. "Aivey. Donavon," he greets the pair evenly. "I was just looking for you, actually. We should go speak to K'tric." Donavon just gives E'sere a funny look, and asks, "He's coming, too?" E'sere doesn't answer right away.
"E'sere has a boo-boo that needs fixing," Aivey informs Donavon, not looking away from that fascinating tree by his shoulder, "He gets hurt rather easily. You'll want to keep that in mind." She does not greet E'sere, does not acknowledge his presence aside from telling Donavon what is clearly, if not painfully obvious.
"Gotcha. I'll just... go find K'tric for you," volunteers Donavon, already edging backward. He gets about three steps, then turns and flees, trying not to run. E'sere lingers, glowering after him. "I was," he says very distinctly, staring at his friend's back and not Aivey, "going to ask K'tric to look after Morelenth in my absence."
"I imagine," Aivey says, mimicking E'sere's distinct tone, "K'tric has his hands full with that green of his." A deliberate pause, "You should get that hand seen too, though. Cuts have a way of getting infected if you don't take care of them properly."
"And then they leave scars, don't they, Aivey?" retorts E'sere, glancing sharply over at Aivey. "And scars come with stories. This--" he lifts his bloody hand slightly "--must be like one of those tales the aunties tell to warn the kids off of doing stupid things. I'll know better next time."
"I thought, at first, I should go for the face thinking that it might put a little sense into your head. But then I decided if I did, my father would have something to say about that. You can't very well go on this noble mission if you're not looking your best." Matter-of-fact, Aivey says, "Feel free to make up some grand story about how it happened while you were doing something heroic or manly. I'm just me and I don't fit the part, so the truth'll just hurt you in the end. Not that you ever had a problem telling the truth to begin with."
"So thoughtful of you," says E'sere, glancing downward at his cut hand, lips pursing. "Well. I'm sure I can think of something better than my ex wanted revenge. Even if the guys got to sharing those stories, this is hardly impressive." Another poke at his hand as he straightens, gives Aivey a bland look.
"I never said we were exes," Aivey replies after a pause, "I said I needed time to focus and you decided that meant I wanted nothing to do with you. If that was the truth," Aivey finally turns, looking at E'sere, "I'd have said it."
"You put everything else ahead of me!" E'sere says, voice rising slightly as he stiffens, hand quickly forgotten. "All your father has to do is look at you and you come running, and you forget about me. He doesn't even have to do /that/ much--you just do it anyway. I'm not going to be your fun little diversion between Important Stuff for your father."
Aivey regards E'sere in silence for a very long moment. Silence that might not be the best thing to answer him with and if combined with Aivey's statement, might definitely lead to the wrong impression. "I'm not going to have this discussion. Not now, when you're going off and need to be focused on what you're doing. I won't risk it."
"Your father's mission," E'sere notes snidely. "Wouldn't want anyone to jeopardize /that/. Wouldn't want for me to screw up what /he/ wants." He folds his arms over his chest, the manuever more careful and less sulky than he desires thanks to his insistance on not touching the now-tacky blood on his injured hand to his clothes or the rest of him.
"Your mission," Aivey corrects, "And no, I wouldn't. Because if you fail it'll be your throat that's cut. Not his. Not mine. Yours. Whatever else you think, E'sere, that's the truth. You're important to me."
E'sere shakes his head, resolute as he starts to turn away. "Not important enough for you to stay."
Aivey judges his back - him - and his words, watching him leave. When he's out of sight, she pushes away from the tree and moves after him, stepping quietly and quickly through the forest despite being barefoot. It's his back she speaks to, too, once she catches him. Her words are short and quick, her tone harsh under insistence. "You're important enough for me to walk away from. To trust that you're going to believe in me, to trust me. That I'm doing what's best because things are coming to a head and I know where I'm at. What I can do and can't do."
"Just trust you?" E'sere says incredulously, stopping and then rounding on Aivey when she catches up to him. "Important enough to walk away from? Is that supposed to make me feel better, Aivey? You always did suck at speaking to people." He snorts, takes a couple of steps closer to stop right in front of her. "You don't even trust me not to screw things up for you and your /father's/ grand goals now. You shouldn't have ever gotten involved with me to start with, because all you've done is fucked the both of us up."
Aivey stops, but doesn't step back. She doesn't avoid full eye contact, either. "You spoke to people, I dealt with them." She says flatly, "You want to judge on abilities? That's it, right there. But if you're so sure I messed you up, messed everything up, then I'll fix it, right now." Aivey's jaw snaps shut with an audible clink of teeth. She eases back a step and lifts her chin, "Good bye, E'sere."
Quickly, E'sere reaches to grab Aivey's arm before she can leave, automatically doing so right-handed--the wound on that hand makes him wince but he endures, and seems far less concerned about not getting blood on Aivey than he is on himself. "That's not what I want," he tells her plaintively, voice edgier with desperation than he'd like.
At the catch, Aivey looks at his hand and the blood, then back to E'sere. "It's all I hear coming out of your mouth, E'sere. If that's not what you want, then what is? What more can I do that I haven't already tried?"
E'sere is quick to release Aivey, raking his other hand through his hair as he pulls away--he's not so forgetful as to brush blood through it. "I--I don't know," he admits, releasing a breath. He takes a couple of steps back, then turns to seat himself on the fallen trunk of a tree, rubbing his face tiredly. "I want... I just don't want you to go. Not... not go running off because you've got something better to do. /I/ want to come first."
"Because he comes first, doesn't mean you're any less important to me," Aivey replies, tired herself, "And you two are the only people I'm doing this for. He understands. Please... try to understand, E'sere."
"Yes it does," E'sere insists, shaking his head and not looking up at Aivey. "It means I'm second and I'm not good enough. I'm always second. I do understand, Aivey. That's what I understand."
"Where am I, E'sere?" Aivey asks, "In your little world, where am I?"
"You're--" E'sere hesitates, resting his forearms on his knees as he leans over. He stares at his hands, but hardly seems to be seeing them now. "You. You're the only thing that--" He takes a deep breath, struggling, for once, with words. "You know me. More of me than--You're important to me. I'd put /you/ first, ahead of anybody else."
"You would put me first. But where am I?" Aivey presses, again, "Where am I in the line of Lexine, your knot, your dragon, Donavon, Diya...?"
"Mother--I only want her to die. Suffer, and then die," E'sere amends after a moment, frown deepening. "My knot is unattainable. Diya--I've never cared about her, and Donavon and Morelenth... They always put /me/ first, so I don't have to." Put them first, that is.
"But who is first?" Aivey asks, again, stressing the question, "You can say it, E'sere. It's not like it's some big secret."
"Me," E'sere finally says flatly, glancing up at Aivey. "/I'm/ first. I have to put myself first because no one else will--You, Mother, none of you. Except Donavon and Morelenth, and what good are /they/? They just make more trouble when I'm finally about to make something of myself."
"Why is it so important to be first?" Aivey asks next, accepting his spoken truth with an encouraging nod.
"Because--" E'sere hesitates, glances downward again, frowning. He looks back at his hands. "It's--it's the only way to be... to be somebody. Nobody respects second-place. Nobody looks up to them. You're just the man who wasn't enough, and they forget about you and they never care."
"You're not first." Aivey replies, making an effort to sound gentle, "But it doesn't mean you're not somebody. I love you both, in different ways. You're somebody to me, E'sere. Somebody I'm willing to walk away from so that I can... so that when the time comes, I'm going to be able to protect you. To keep you around until I'm through with you-" This is meant to be a tease, and Aivey slows enough to suggest it, even smiles wanly.
"I don't want you to protect me," E'sere says, shaking his head as soon as Aivey starts speaking. "That's not how it's supposed to work. Women don't protect men; they'll all laugh to know my woman left me to protect me." He snorts bitterly at the idea. "Until you're through with me, huh?" He shoots a look at her, not particularly happy, but at least seeming to get the tease.
"If they laugh, they're insulting you. That pretty much gives me free reign to take care of them," Aivey helpfully points out, "It'd have to be on your order, though. Despite the unhappy look, Aivey says, "Until I'm through with you. Considering I don't see that happening anytime soon... you'd better come back to me alive and ready to make amends for being such an ass these past few days."
"Which will teach them not to laugh at me to my face," says E'sere. Sniff. He rakes his left hand back through his hair, releases a breath. "I'm not an ass. You've been a bitch, too, you know," he notes. Pause. "And this better not scar," he adds, looking back at his hand.
"What'll you do if it does?" Aivey asks, breaking into a taunting grin, "Laugh at me? Call me names? Sick your puppy on me?" She folds her arms over her chest and looks down at the bronzerider.
"I don't know yet," admits E'sere, grimacing, prodding his hand gently with a finger of the other. "But I'll never be the same again. And you aren't going to like whatever I do do."
"Oh, wow," Aivey declares, her lips twitching, "I'm terrified. I think, while you're off gallivanting on the mainland, I'm going to find Zoma and ask her to dig me a hole so I can hide in it."
"I think I can get a knife while I'm there," muses E'sere to himself, cutting his eyes toward Aivey smirkingly. "Or better yet, just a little poison--fellis--and we're golden. We can bury you in that hole and no one will ever know."
"Shaking in my boots," Aivey confirms with a wiggle of her toes against the ground, "I'm absolutely terrified."
E'sere feels compelled to point out dryly, "You have no boots." He shoots a pointed look down at her feet for emphasis. "I'll have to think on, decide exactly what I'm going to do when I get back. I may just not come back at all, and let that be punishment enough. I could find me a nice girl who wears pretty dresses for me on the mainland."
"You do that," Aivey agrees again, with another wiggle of her toes, "And while you're bedding some girl, I'll be sure to take good care of Morelenth for you." She smiles and it seems earnest enough, but the narrow of her eyes isn't. "Want to let me in on the secret of where you're going?"
"Mmhmm," agrees E'sere, unbothered. "I'm not very worried about him; he can take care of himself." Pause. "And your father already told me where we're going, of course," he adds, matter-of-fact.
"Naturally, he would." Aivey replies, dropping her arms to her sides, "I figured it's not to Telgar or the 'Reaches, and if Morelenth's not tagging along, then it's not a weyr you'll be visiting. Can't figure much else beyond that." And with a shrug, she dismisses the matter entirely. In the same move, she also turns, preparing to move back into the forest.
"Five Mines," E'sere says, only after Aivey has turned to start away. "And Lord Odern."
Aivey does stop, her head tilting to the side as some recollection strikes her. After a suitable pause, she turns her chin over her shoulder, finding E'sere by the tree. "Watch your neck," she advises, once more serious, "And come back with good news."
"Of course," says E'sere, nodding once to Aivey. He remains where he's seated, watching after her and not offering his own goodbyes.
Aivey lingers for only a moment longer. At the end of her pause, she turns and leaves, parting foliage with her hand to clear her path.
E'sere remains until Aivey's gone, just sitting there and watching where she left long afterward. Finally, he rises and sets off on his own quest, for K'tric.