[Log] Patience
Who: Aivey, E'sere
When: Day 26, Month 4, Turn 3, 7th Pass
Where: E'sere and Aivey's Weyr, Western Islands
What: Book-burnings, emotional breakdowns, and sex: just another day with E'sere and Aivey.
It's early yet, and one of those rare mornings when E'sere is actually up at a reasonable hour. He's slipped from bed to pick up one of his books, and then retreated to Morelenth's side to curl up against Morelenth's chest, his typical place while he reads by the rather dim light trickling in from outside.
Even rarer still is that Aivey sleeps while E'sere reads. Thoroughly tangled in the blankets, hogging much of the bed and laying at a diagonal slant, Aivey soon begins to stir. Little mumbles are audible first, and half-intelligible statements punctuated by curse words. It's when everything goes silent in her little corner of the weyr that she actually wakens and spends a moment staring at the floor, the uncertainty of just why that is coloring her sleepy expression.
The mumbles attract E'sere's attention, and he glances up from his book to peer at her over the top of it. He watches her a moment, looks back to the book, then finally sets it aside in favor of watching her, certain it won't be long now until she's really up.
It's not long at all. A handful of seconds when she continues staring at the floor until realization dawns on her and she twists, casting a look over a bare shoulder to E'sere. He's recipient of a lopsided smile and a jaw-breaking yawn before she fully rights herself. The shirt she wears is oversized, the one shoulder not covered by the faded fabric still bare. Sliding out of bed, Aivey hooks a corner of the blanket to pull it along with her as she approaches E'sere. "Drills?"
"In a little bit," E'sere answers with a wrinkle of his nose. "I couldn't sleep. I hope I didn't wake you, though?" He moves to stretch his legs out, gesturing for her to come sit with him.
"Displeased?" Aivey asks next, focusing on the wrinkling of his nose - which she leans in to kiss first - "What kept you?" Tugging the blanket around her, she drops atop his lap, pillowing her head against his shoulder and her hand atop his chest, "..figured you'd like any reason to stay in bed with me. But you and your books..."
"I can't lie still," E'sere answers, eyes crossing for a moment when she kisses the tip of his nose. He moves to slide one arm loosely around her waist when she drops into his lap, the other draped over her legs. "Didn't want you to wake up," he continues then. "I'm considerate like that, don't you know."
"Terribly considerate," Aivey echoes, gently chucking him under the chin, "What's got you bothered that you can't stay still?" The interrogation is mild and completely unfair. Her hand reaches up, cupping the side of his jaw before sliding along it to the nape of his neck. She scratches her fingers there, brushing them against the shorter portions of his hair.
"Just, couldn't," E'sere explains, with a faint lift of his shoulders. Then, he moves to lean, catlike, into her hand, with a smug little smirk. "I don't pretend to understand why; it just happens. Why do /you/ ever get restless?"
"I have reasons," Aivey explains, "Mostly I get impatient. Angry. Bored. That's a big one, bored." Drawing her hand from the back of his neck, she resettles it atop his chest where she fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "You're always so composed it's hard to think either of those things bother you... so do we want to play a game with this?"
"Things bother me," E'sere notes, bemused, as he glances down once at her hand, then back up to her face. "I just choose not to let other people see that and gain that advantage on me." Pause. "Aren't we /always/ playing games, Aivey?"
With a shake of her head, Aivey denies his statement, "Not always." She pauses, too, briefly wetting her lips before saying, "What would upset you so much that you can't sleep..." Making a show of thinking, and imitating E'sere's chin tapping when /he/ thinks, she says, "Odern, possibly. Or our trip back to the mainland."
In answer, E'sere quirks a brow, challenging her guesses. "Do you really think," he drawls, "going home is going to keep me up? At least, keep me up for any reason other than wiggling with delight?"
Aivey's finger slowly trails upward from E'sere's chest, ending at the hollow of his throat. Exerting slight pressure there, Aivey looks up to meet his eyes, "What you learned there, then. I imagine all sorts of information just fell onto that pretty head of yours."
E'sere hesitates, then nods once, a concession. "I heard some things about an old friend of yours," he tells her after a moment, thoughtfully. "Our good weyrlingmaster is now our good Weyrleader."
The finger against E'sere's throat twitches, and Aivey's eyes narrow with equal amounts hate and disdain. "Well," She says after a lengthy pause, "I'm glad you told me now and not later." The mooshy moment ends as she seeks to straighten, the blanket once more cinched at her waist, "What else happened while we were away?"
E'sere's smirk is smug as his words get the desired reaction: Aivey off his back. He shrugs lazily as she pulls away. "That was the biggest news, I believe. Nothing less important would make it to that backwater," he answers.
"They'll hear," Aivey proclaims, moving to stand, "When I kill him and that little brat of his, too." Drawing the blanket up and over her shoulders, Aivey pads away from him to crouch by the fire. An experimental poke at it is given, her fingers darting away from the flames soon after, "Much as you didn't like R'vain and cherished that damn knot... it's something else. Something else is bothering you, E'sere. Fess up and save me the trouble of worming it out of you."
Amused, E'sere watches Aivey poke at the fire. "Loathed him, more like," he remarks, leaning back again against Morelenth. "And now you're just guessing, Aivey dear."
"You're distracting, sweetie," Aivey retorts, jabbing at the fire again. This time, it earns a wince, and a knuckle is nursed before she settles her hand on her knee.
"Good point," agrees E'sere easily. "I suppose it's hard for you to concentrate on good questions when I'm lounging so prettily over here."
"You won't be pretty if you don't answer my question," Aivey threatens, making one last effort at poking at the fire. This time, she is successful. A half-burned piece of kindling is freed, the flaming point angled in E'sere's direction, "Last chance, dearest."
E'sere eyes Aivey, one brow sliding slowly upward in challenge. "Oh, really. I've already got /one/ scar from you; did you see?" He holds up his right hand for her to ogle. "And once you've ruined me once, I don't think you can threaten me again with it," he replies.
"You?" Aivey queries, mock surprised, "I hadn't dreamed of it." She stands and moves, heading toward the back portion of the weyr where E'sere's most prized possessions are stored - his books. As she goes, she says, "Paper burns nicely. Especially when it's the expensive kind."
"I'll get more on the mainland," replies E'sere, not sounding very concerned. "And anyway, none of those are particularly fascinating tomes of literature, you know. Or, you wouldn't, rather, would you?" is his tease. Probably shouldn't do that with a woman with a flaming stick, though.
Most certainly shouldn't do that with -Aivey- of all people. With a helpless little shrug, she sets the flaming end of the kindling to one of the books. Notably the deflowering tome. Being that it's a book stored near other books, it likely won't take terribly long for the rest go go up.
E'sere's lips purse--he's not pleased--but he doesn't move to save anything, just lets them burn. He watches a moment, then gets to his feet to slip outside to the ledge and stand while his books smoke and burn.
What happens is not what was expected. Torn between watching E'sere leave and watching his books go up in flames, Aivey settles on the former. Knocking the burning deflowering book to the ground and away from the others, Aivey trails after him, dropping her blanket when she's mid-way across the weyr. "Talk to me, E'sere." It's a gentle voice she uses now, roused by the seriousness of the situation.
E'sere stands not far outside the door, but to one side so that any smoke seeping from the weyr bypasses him. His eyes are somewhere off on the ocean while Aivey trails after him, his lips still pursed and arms folded across his chest. "I spoke to J'lor. After," he finally speaks up. Long pause. "He went and spoke with him, all of them. He went after my family."
Aivey's anger over this revelation is controlled, solely for E'sere's sake. "I knew they were going somewhere, I just couldn't figure out where," She replies, quietly. His back is studied, her gaze intent upon him, "E'sere... separate yourself from it. Separate yourself because you're not them. I need you here, with me. Focused."
"My /family/," E'sere repeats stiffly, arms sliding unfolded so he can ball his fists at his sides. "No one is allowed to go after family except family. No outsiders. That's the rule--and even if it wasn't, he's done nothing but made them angry now. He's going to cost us everything, trying to do this /his/ way. The right way," is added derisively.
"J'lor is a fool," Aivey agrees, reaching out to touch the small of E'sere's back. His reaction decides whether she follows, either pressing herself there or withdrawing her hand, "But my father isn't. You need patience, E'sere. We both do. But if J'lor's actions - if by some fluke, they work? It's one less issue for us to take care of. And I'd rather have his neck on the line than yours."
At Aivey's touch, E'sere stiffens briefly, then releases a breath, either releasing his anger or pulling it back inside. Either way, visibly, he relaxes. "I know," he tells Aivey heavily. "But he--they--that's my /family/. /I'm/ the one that has to take care of them. Not J'lor. Not you or your father or anyone else. I /have/ to."
Aivey wraps an arm around his middle, presses her forehead into his back, releasing a breath at the same time he does. Matching him, breath for breath, tone for tone. "Let J'lor do what he will," She soothes, "Let them focus on him, and not you. There's time, E'sere. You'll get what you want and I'll be there if you need me. Just have patience."
"I've spent my whole life being patient," E'sere replies, his voice quiet as he rubs tiredly at his eyes with one hand. "I'm tired of it. I can't--" He hesitates. "I can't... I can't handle this. All of it, any of it."
"You can and you will," Aivey resolves - for him, if he chooses not - "It's always hard when you're at the last stretch. It was hard for me, back at the Weyr. Look where that got me," Wry humor, displayed and not entirely felt, "Please, E'sere... please just have patience. I promise it will pay off."
E'sere hesitates, looks like he's about to protest; but in the end he only moves that hand up to rake at his hair and releases another breath. "I--right. Of course. It will," he agrees, tone obviously bluster.
"E'sere," Planting a kiss against his spine, and tightening her hands around his chest, Aivey says, "I know you're mad. I know you want it taken care of now. I know he overstepped his bounds... but I need you to trust me. This will work out, you will be the one to settle things. Not J'lor. Not me. You. But you have... you have to, for your sake, my sake... Morelenth's... you have to let it go for right now."
E'sere closes his eyes several seconds, sliding his hands up to cover Aivey's finally. "I know," he tells her, nodding once. "I /don't/ know how /you/ can say that, though. Something is wrong when you're telling /me/ to be patient." He's only half-teasing.
"You get staked out for thread when you get a little over zealous," Aivey murmurs, mostly against his back still, "And try not learn from that." Pushing up to her tiptoes, Aivey smoothes a kiss against the back of his neck, playfully nuzzling her nose there, too, before grounding her heels. "It's all good news. All of this is. I just need you to have faith, E'sere."
"I do," says E'sere. Then, amending: "I'm trying. It's not easy, you know." He's silent several seconds, content to stand there with her at his back before, reluctantly, he notes, "I should probably go see J'lor again. We... didn't part on good terms."
"I know. I'm proud of you, too," Aivey encourages, her tone still soothing. At his reluctant reply, she says, "Wait. Bide your time and wait." Asking for more patience, naturally.
E'sere glances sideways at Aivey, arching a brow. "Why's that?" he asks of that request.
"Patience," Aivey replies, slipping away from his back to rest against his side, "If you go now he'll hold the upper hand. You'll apologize, and it'll be enough for J'lor. But I want to see what he does, first." Twisting her fingers through his, she asks, "Don't tell him I know."
"If I go make nice," E'sere points out, "I can get back in his good graces and let him think he has the upper hand." He studies her a moment, though, and then nods once. "Fine."
"Thank you." Aivey, pleased with the outcome, tilts her head back, making a show of pursing her lips and squinting at E'sere. Still holding onto that hand, she tugs against it, inviting him in closer.
E'sere, obliging, lets Aivey pull him in toward her, even if he can't quite let the issue go. "He's not going to come to apologize to /me/," he points out. "Even if I deserve it more. /I/ didn't make things personal--well. Not terribly personal, anyway, though I think I asked him at one point just how thick his skull was. I look forward to our finding out someday."
"Neurotic," Aivey chastises, seeking to stop E'sere's floundering with a kiss. Encouragement, perhaps, to not be so neurotic. "Give it a couple of days," She says in the aftermath, "And leave the cracking of J'lor's skull to my father."
"Mm. Am not," E'sere replies, properly chastised by that kiss. "And I want to watch, then." He's silent a moment then leans back, just enough to look down at Aivey. "I have drills soon," he points out, adopting a rather wheedling tone.
"You had to get up and -read-," Aivey says with an air of regret, "We could've spent the time not arguing or burning books or talking about J'lor..." She moves to pull away, untwining her fingers from his and stepping backward into the weyr.
"Might I point out that I was doing none of those things without your encouragement," E'sere remarks, stepping after Aivey. "Except the reading, and that was only to kill time until you woke up. Though, I suppose I /could/ have woken you up differently."
"Now there's a thought," Aivey replies, her lips parting in a mocking, soundless laugh, "Pity you only thought of it now." His advance is stalled by an outstretched hand and a waggled finger; like a mother chiding an errant child, "Wouldn't want to keep 'Sir' waiting, would you?"
"Maybe tomorrow," says E'sere with a smirk as he steps forward, stepping into her hand smugly. "If you're a very good girl today. Sir can learn to be patient."
"Someone forgot to inform you I'm /anything/ but good," Aivey says, her tone switching to an appropriately dutiful imitation. When he steps into her hand, Aivey stands her ground, a small flicker of amusement apparent within her eyes. She does, however, concede. Snagging his collar and pulling him in close again, Aivey leads the way with a kiss and some fancy backward walking.