Broken after Clare
Where: Trellazoth's Ledge
When: A few hours after the last scene, with T'ral, and the evening of lunch with Clare
Who: Br'ce and Aida
What: Br'ce is broken. Aida breaks him further. Br'ce gets put back together again, with license to sleep around. It's a really weird scene.
It's dark. And it's cold. The fire has died down, nothing but grey ashes in the hearth. The few glows cast an eerie light, sending strange shadows elongating across the room. In one corner lies Br'ce, slackly leaning against the bookshelf. His body is utterly limp, his gaze dully fixated on the entranceway. By one hand sits a full tumbler of whiskey; liquid courage that he's too cowardly to take advantage of.
This...no, this is no good. Aida thanks quietly the rider that dropped her off; she's a bit later than she usually is arriving home, but that's been normal lately. A few steps in and she stops, bringing a hand up to ruffle it through her hair, her scarf already clutched in her other hand. Blink. Blink. Blink. "Um." This is certainly not what was expected -- hey, now who's deviating from the script?
She's home. Br'ce struggles to force muscles cramped and asleep from disuse (he's been here for hours) to move, managing to jerkily clamber to his feet, holding one arm against the wall for support. The whiskey glass is knocked over, the amber liquid spilling across the floor and pervading the room with the smell of alcohol. "A--Aida." It takes a try or two to get his voice working properly. "Thank--you--I." Hold on, let him try again. "I've done something terrible." No effort is made to bridge the distance between them, he'll hide here in his corner where it's nice and dark and the walls surround him on two sides.
Tilting her head to the side, Aida lifts an eyebrow. She's otherwise still, quiet for a long few moments, regarding him first, then the spilled alcohol, then the weyr in general. Mmm. Eventually, her attention swings to him, and she gives up her spot by the entrance. She doesn't circle around to him, but instead slips forward to drop her scarf on the table. "What is it?" Mild, that tone. Not particularly gentle, but...certainly mild.
All of a sudden, Br'ce finds his mouth to be completely lacking in any sort of liquid whatsoever. "I'm a terrible person. I'm not the man you think I am. I have a secret that I have to confess." His tone is croaking, tinged with misery, with a chaser of self-loathing. "I've--I had an affair." Eyes squeeze shut as he cringes. Is it just him, or are those four words echoing loudly enough for all of Pern to hear, for hours and hours on end?
More silence on Aida's part; she sets one hand lightly against the back of her chair, watching him quietly throughout it all. When the words finally come, she lifts an eyebrow again. He's eyed for a moment, and then she's tilting her head to lean to the side, eying the whiskey on the ground. "And you've spilled your drink, too," she tells him idly, straightening back up to give him an entirely mellow look, doing her best to give the impression that these sins are about on the same level. That would be 'minor'. "I expected she would try," she states, all calm, conversational. "And it seems she succeeded, then. Did you enjoy yourself?" Voice, don't fail her now. There's probably a little prayer being said in her head right at this moment, a considerable effort made towards keeping her demeanor calm and her tone conversational. With that last question asked, she reaches to take up her scarf again, dropping her gaze to it as she starts to fold it up.
The cringe only gets worse. See, this is the calm before the storm. The bigger the calm, the nastier the storm. Or so Br'ce-reasoning goes. His eyes crack open a little, to watch Aida like one watches a stalking lion. "No." Br'ce lies, licking his lips nervously. Damnit, where did all his saliva go? Shoulders are hunched, as if in anticipation of a blow. Or, you know, Aida leaping the length of the room to go straight for his royal jewels. Not that he'd shy aside, at this point. "You don't have to say anything. Trell and I will just...move into a different weyr." And leave Aida in charge of this one, of course.
"No?" Aida echoes back at him, finishing folding the scarf and setting it back down, her gaze swinging up again to lock on him, lips curving up on one side so she can give him a lopsided smile. At his last words, up her eyebrows go again -- this time, both of them. "And precisely how will I get up and down, then?" She asks him, a thread of skepticism running through her tone. When she continues, it's back to conversational. "It's alright, Br'ce. I shouldn't have sent *her*; I misjudged her ability to, ah, have her way with things." Beat. "I'm disappointed, though -- this is an awful lot of fuss if you didn't even enjoy yourself." That's offered over with a dose of dry humor. "I'm not mad. Or upset. Or hurt. I don't feel betrayed, and I'm not going to throw a tantrum. Or leave. Or yell, at this point, though I may very well do so if you persist in behaving as if this is the end of the world. You do recollect that I love you, yes?"
Br'ce stares at Aida, gape-mouthed. A sudden sense of whirling vertigo sets in, leaving him clutching now with both arms against the walls, feeling the room spin around him. Congratulations, you have now just /officially/ blown his mind. Nothing but incoherent goggling noises come from his throat.
Blink. Blink. Well, damn. She broke him. Aida brings a hand up to brush her curls out of her face, eying him with a measure of concern. "Ah, Br'ce? Maybe...you should sit down. But not on the floor, because there's alcohol there. Can you make it to the chair?" She abandons her spot where she was clutching at the table, circling around to pull out the chair closest to him and turn it helpfully. See? Chair.
Goggle. Gape. At least he's breathing. But he's now staring at Aida asif she were some kind of strange beast from the depths of the oceans, jungle, and mountain caves, all at once.
Exhaling a sigh, Aida picks her way around the spill to where he is, reaching to try and take hold of him so she can lead him over to the chair. "Come on, sit, before you fall down," she chides him lightly.
Whimper. Resistance.
"Br'ce," Aida states, voice firm. "Come sit down." Both hands wrap around one of his arms, or at least try, so that she can dig her heels and pull him in that direction.
This, at least, gets some reaction from him. Eyes rolling wildly, Br'ce allows himself to be led, stumbling, towards the chair. Now only able to look at the Aida-sea-air-land-beast-lagoon-creature out of the corner of his eye. No discernable brain activity going on.
Drag, drag, drag. Aida pulls him to the chair, then shoves him down into it. Once he's safely there, she gives him another skeptical look, then shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Men. She circles around to her own chair, plopping down into it and leaning down to start untying her boots. They're set under the table, and then she's up again, setting about putting the weyr to rights. This involves dealing with the fire first, cleaning up the alcohol, and all of that, while she waits for him to come back to his senses. Hopefully.
Recovery is a slow process. Eyes follow Aida nervously around the room, with the intensity of a caged bird watching the cat prowl outside. The first sign of returning consciousness is a slow increase in the pace of his breathing, going from slow and even to fast and shallow, to hyperventilating. He's pale and sweaty, skin clammy. And starting to shake. Classic symptoms of shock, despite the lack of any overt injury.
Oh shells. Aida tosses the towel used to clean up the alcohol off into the basket, then climbs to her feet again and puts her hands on her hips, staring at him. "Br'ce," she complains, then shakes her head and turns, swiftly turning to go drag a few blankets out of the sleeping area. When she reemerges, they're over a shoulder, and she's heading for him, attempting to drag him out of his chair and towards the fire.
:lets himself be dragged, and has enough presence of mind to clutch the blankets around himself. He huddles in the pile of them, near the newly-built up fire. He stares fixedly into the depths, and his breathing and shivering gradually lessen over time, and then vanish, leaving him feeling as weak as a new-born kitten, and sweating merely from the extra heat. Still, the blankets are clutched tightly around his shoulders. Now buying time to think, rather than not thinking at all.
There's a moment of fussing as he sits, rather than lies down, but with the clutching at the blankets she calms about it, watching him carefully. Okay, not dying. Aida shakes her head again and stops staring at him, ruffling a hand through her hair as she turns and heads for the desk. Plop. It's rifled through at apparent random as she goes for something in particular. Apparently, he's being let to think without any further interruption from her.
A log pops in the fire, causing sparks to fly. "You sent her specifically to--to..." The brownrider's back is not too terribly expressive, and he doesn't look over his shoulder. The voice gives very little away, though perhaps the shifting to pull the blankets even tighter does. "...you meant for that to happen." A statement of fact, not a question.
"What?" Aida stops, putting the papers down and twisting in her chair to stare over at him. "/No/," she points out, tone entirely disbelieving. "I did /not/. I /expected/ you to tell her no. I had no idea she'd actually be persuasive enough to manage to talk you into it. I *sent* her with your lunch and told her I wouldn't kill her if something happened." Beat. "Which I won't. What I meant to happen was her going in, flirting with you and displaying her interest, and that was that. Because I said I would."
"If something happened. I see." Br'ce lapses into silence once more, staring at the fire as if it contains the answers to all his problems. "It still doesn't change anything." He says finally. "I did something reprehensible. And unforgiveable. T'ral is right, I need to face my responsibilities." This last bit is said more to himself than to Aida.
"If I hadn't, she wouldn't have indicated at all that she was interested, because, well, she wouldn't have." Aida points out. No need to explain that she can be a little scary. She slides up to her feet, abandoning the desk in favor of moving over to drop down beside him on the floor. "I'm not having any problem forgiving you, you know," she points out. "What does 'face your responsibilities' *mean*?"
"I'm not the person you thought I was. Nor am I the person that /I/ thought I was." Br'ce says bleakly. "I can't make any excuses for what happened. It did. And it was my fault. You may be prepared to forgive me, but I'm not prepared to forgive myself." If castigation isn't going to come from an outside source, he's more than willing to self-flagellate. "There is no excuse, no mitigating factor, for what I did. You don't deserve someone like me."
"Oh, shut /up/," Aida tells him, a hint of exasperation coming into her tone. "Listen to you. Woe, I did something bad, it's the end of the world." Both hands come up, so that she can try and shove at his upper arm and shoulder lightly, playfully. "Look at me, you big goof. How about as an excuse or mitigating factor 'it's okay with my girl'? I /love/ you, and it's /okay/. You might have some internal bits to work out, but don't you bring me into that portion of things, do you understand?" Beat. "And yes, I know. You're too good for me. I'm glad you finally see that."
"Bad? Bad doesn't even begin to cover it." Br'ce, however, declines to supply an appropriately strong enough word. The big ones just don't have the same flair as the 4-letter ones. "How can it be okay with you?" He demands, finally looking over at Aida with an anguished expression. "I /cheated/ on you. When you were counting on me not to. With a total stranger. And..." He hangs his head, burying it in the blanket, making his next words come out muffled. "..I did enjoy it." he admits, almost inaudibly. "I'm so shameless that I actually enjoyed ... in my /office/, of all places..."
Oh, he's hiding his face. That's good, because it means she can set her jaw for a moment and suppress the very brief flash of unpleasant emotions. Aida gets it back under control and puts back on her smile, reaching out to grab hold of the blanket and lift it away from his face, leaning down to peer at him. "Because enjoying sex is bad?" She asks, putting a hint of something mildly confused into her tone. "Does it help if I pointed out that you never actually said you weren't going to sleep with anyone else?" Will he let himself off on a technicality?
"I said I love you. I /told/ her I loved you. It was implied." Br'ce says stubbornly. He's doing his damndest not to let himself off at all. It makes him feel better, to feel worse. If Aida's not going to feel bad on his account, well, he'll feel bad enough for the both of them! "I shouldn't have enjoyed it. It wasn't with you. I'm not /supposed/ to enjoy it if I love you and it's not with you." Still, he sees a ray of light--there's a faint tinge of hope to his words. Speaking of suppositions, now, instead of absolutes.
"You..." Aida trails off, and she can't help but let out a soft laugh, offering him a warm smile to go with it as she scoots over and attempts to lean forward against his side, chin on his shoulders and arms wrapping around him. "I love you, Br'ce. You're a wonderful man. While I am not speaking from experience, here -- I am at least these days fairly aware of things, and I do not believe that love is a prerequisite for having an enjoyable tumble. Have you ever had sex with someone you didn't love?"
Br'ce stiffens in surprise, though he doesn't push Aida away. In fact, after a moment, he leans in as well, taking solace in the unexpected comfort. While he would love to castigate himself further, he feared losing Aida so much that this is an entirely welcome surprise. Well. Once he got over the surprise bit. "Uhh." There's a moment's dithering. Apparently she definitely /hasn't/ been talking to T'ral about his past girlfriends. "Yes? But--I wasn't ... with any other girls at the time." One day, he'll be able to say the word. Just not today. "Wait, what do you mean you don't speak from experience?" All of a sudden, Tiv's casual question of 'are you sure she...?' is coming back to haunt him.
"I've never had sex with anyone but you," Aida points out quietly, giving him a puzzled sort of look -- enough so that her own tension fades considerably, with her distracted from it. "Which means I've never had sex with anyone I don't love. So I don't /know/ it's not a prerequisite, I just...expect it isn't." Pause. "So you have, and I imagine you enjoyed yourself. So why should your being with me actually /prevent/ you from enjoying it with somebody else? That makes no logical *sense*. I mean, it's not something you do because it /hurts/."
"Oh. Right." Br'ce digests this for a moment. It's amazing how much normalcy a bit of confusion suddenly restores in these two. "It doesn't. But it should." He says guiltily. This whole philandering business is a new one to him, too. "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again in the future." There's a slight pause. "But you have to promise not to send more temptation my way. I'm a weak man." This is said with sadly closed eyes.
Squeeze. Aida tightens her arms, squeezing on him and tipping her head in to press a kiss against his shoulder. "Br'ce," she says, voice a little sing-song. "It's okay. And, ah -- you realize that in life, there's probably going to be a lot of temptation thrown your way, right? I mean, this all /started/ because I pointed out that it was there. And, I mean -- Flights? You can't make that promise. You /shouldn't/ make that promise."
"I can." Br'ce says stubbornly. "I've only let Trellazoth chase a few greens every once in a long while. He's used to it. He likes you, he'll understand." he blithely promises Aida. "There's going to be enough temptation, I can do without any more being thrown my way. I'd much rather be blissfully ignorant, come to think of it. This never would have happened if I hadn't said anything." He untucks the blanket a little to cool off, making room for Aida underneath as well.
Pause. "Br'ce," Aida says, loosening her grip on him and scooting back a little, giving him as much of a stern look as she can manage. "You did not just...no," she says. "No, I do not accept that promise from you, and if you keep poor Trellazoth from chasing greens for my sake I will never forgive you. 'He likes you, he'd understand'? That is so /mean/. He...he...he has needs, too!"
Br'ce looks at Aida, incredulously. "He understands. He volunteered for it, actually, without my having to say anything. He hasn't chased any greens since we got here. It's not like he suddenly needs to. And, and, and, what if he wins? I mean, great for him...terrible for us." Mainly because he suddenly has an image of Trellazoth deciding to chase Immath, and himself waking up next to Tavaly. Aaaaahhhh! Br'ce bites down on a mental scream, settling for crossed arms. "It's not for your sake, it's for /our/ sake." They outnumber Trell, so ha.
"It is not terrible for us," Aida counters promptly, sitting up straight and bringing her arms up over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. "It is not, and I don't care if he's the sweetest and most understanding dragon ever, it's not /fair/ to him. Since you /got/ here? 'I've got a girl and I'm getting laid regularly so you can't ever'. No. No, no, no. So what if he wins? He actually -- gasp -- gets to vent some sexual frustration? Oh /no/. Sex...isn't /bad/, Br'ce. It's not."
"No, it's not, but it should be with the person you love." Br'ce maintains. He's stuck on this point. Though the fairness argument does make some inroads. "At least promise me you'll let me know... you know. If it's all right." He looks pleadingly at Aida. Yes, please give girls a stamp of approval before letting Br'ce go after them. This makes a great deal of sense.
"It's alright," Aida says, giving him a puzzled look and deflating, bringing a hand up to shove her hair from her face. "I just said that. It's all right. Whoever rises that he wants to chase is fine with me." One of her shoulders is lifted in a languid sort of shrug. "Not that I can believe I'm saying this," and oh her tone is so dry, with these words, "But you can have sex with whoever you want to." She emphasizes the word sex fairly heavily.
Br'ce stares at Aida, disbelievingly. "But...what about faithfulness? Isn't that important? Loyalty?" Excuse you, you're shaking one of the foundations of his world here. Besides, his innate sense of fairness is saying that if he can do this, he should extend the same courtesy to Aida. Which is something that he's choking on right now. "I'm not about to go and sleep around with lots of girls. No matter how much you might want me to." he protests, a little shrilly. There's something /really/ wrong with this conversation.
"You love me," Aida points out mildly, lifting an eyebrow at him. "You're not going to leave me over some little piece of tail, are you? You are faithful to me, and loyal to me, where it counts." And she leans forward towards him again, reaching a hand out so she can tap a finger against his chest where his heart is. "You're a rider, Br'ce. The moral standards of a Weyr are the way they are for a reason."
"I love you." Br'ce confirms. That, at least, is one thing that has not wavered throughout this entire experience. "I may be a rider, but I was a holder first. Holder values make me who I am, rider or no. I don't plan on abandoning them entirely." He has a little bit of the man-sucking-a-lemon expression on his face. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, there aren't any greens that Trellazoth is particularly interested in chasing. And I don't even want to so much as /look/ at another girl for Turns."
"There's no need for bridge crossing when we come to it; don't say you won't, now. Just...don't," Aida says, shaking her head lightly at him and offering up a very small smile. "That way if it comes up again, we won't have a repeat of tonight. Just know that it's okay with me, so long as, you know, you let me know about it, and you let them know it's just sex and they know about me. And that's that, we don't need to talk about it any more." Pause. "Are you okay, now?"
"I think so." Br'ce says bravely. Though he still has a little bit of the man-sucking-a-lemon expression on his face. It's going to take a while for all this to percolate through. And possibly involve little mini-breakages, which T'ral should be able to patch. But he'll be all right. "And the same...goes...for you." He manages to squeeze out the words grudgingly, like pulling sore teeth, but his sense of fair play compels him. Excuse him while his blood pressure rises, as he contemplates other men's hands on his Aida.
Starting to lean in and shift to nestle against him, Aida pauses at the words squeezed out. She draws back again, giving him a puzzled look. "What?" Beat. Nosewrinkle. "Oh." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then scoots to nestle herself in against him again, lifting her chin so she can tilt her head and lean in to press a kiss just off the corner of his lips. "I love you, Br'ce. Very much."
"...okay." Br'ce acquiesces, suddenly cheered into a boyish grin. Really, Aida is far too nice to him. "I love you too, Aida. More than words can say." He turns his head a fraction, brushing noses on the way to more intimate goals. All is forgiven, and future problems forestalled. Mostly. Maybe. But, for now, things are going well.
Relief. So much relief, when she sees that grin. He's not exploded. There is no more of that sense that she broke him completely. No more guilty feeling. Whew. Aida wraps her arms up around him and presses close, forgoing any further words in favor of putting her lips against his, relief giving way to much more insistent feelings. Time to seal the deal.
When: A few hours after the last scene, with T'ral, and the evening of lunch with Clare
Who: Br'ce and Aida
What: Br'ce is broken. Aida breaks him further. Br'ce gets put back together again, with license to sleep around. It's a really weird scene.
It's dark. And it's cold. The fire has died down, nothing but grey ashes in the hearth. The few glows cast an eerie light, sending strange shadows elongating across the room. In one corner lies Br'ce, slackly leaning against the bookshelf. His body is utterly limp, his gaze dully fixated on the entranceway. By one hand sits a full tumbler of whiskey; liquid courage that he's too cowardly to take advantage of.
This...no, this is no good. Aida thanks quietly the rider that dropped her off; she's a bit later than she usually is arriving home, but that's been normal lately. A few steps in and she stops, bringing a hand up to ruffle it through her hair, her scarf already clutched in her other hand. Blink. Blink. Blink. "Um." This is certainly not what was expected -- hey, now who's deviating from the script?
She's home. Br'ce struggles to force muscles cramped and asleep from disuse (he's been here for hours) to move, managing to jerkily clamber to his feet, holding one arm against the wall for support. The whiskey glass is knocked over, the amber liquid spilling across the floor and pervading the room with the smell of alcohol. "A--Aida." It takes a try or two to get his voice working properly. "Thank--you--I." Hold on, let him try again. "I've done something terrible." No effort is made to bridge the distance between them, he'll hide here in his corner where it's nice and dark and the walls surround him on two sides.
Tilting her head to the side, Aida lifts an eyebrow. She's otherwise still, quiet for a long few moments, regarding him first, then the spilled alcohol, then the weyr in general. Mmm. Eventually, her attention swings to him, and she gives up her spot by the entrance. She doesn't circle around to him, but instead slips forward to drop her scarf on the table. "What is it?" Mild, that tone. Not particularly gentle, but...certainly mild.
All of a sudden, Br'ce finds his mouth to be completely lacking in any sort of liquid whatsoever. "I'm a terrible person. I'm not the man you think I am. I have a secret that I have to confess." His tone is croaking, tinged with misery, with a chaser of self-loathing. "I've--I had an affair." Eyes squeeze shut as he cringes. Is it just him, or are those four words echoing loudly enough for all of Pern to hear, for hours and hours on end?
More silence on Aida's part; she sets one hand lightly against the back of her chair, watching him quietly throughout it all. When the words finally come, she lifts an eyebrow again. He's eyed for a moment, and then she's tilting her head to lean to the side, eying the whiskey on the ground. "And you've spilled your drink, too," she tells him idly, straightening back up to give him an entirely mellow look, doing her best to give the impression that these sins are about on the same level. That would be 'minor'. "I expected she would try," she states, all calm, conversational. "And it seems she succeeded, then. Did you enjoy yourself?" Voice, don't fail her now. There's probably a little prayer being said in her head right at this moment, a considerable effort made towards keeping her demeanor calm and her tone conversational. With that last question asked, she reaches to take up her scarf again, dropping her gaze to it as she starts to fold it up.
The cringe only gets worse. See, this is the calm before the storm. The bigger the calm, the nastier the storm. Or so Br'ce-reasoning goes. His eyes crack open a little, to watch Aida like one watches a stalking lion. "No." Br'ce lies, licking his lips nervously. Damnit, where did all his saliva go? Shoulders are hunched, as if in anticipation of a blow. Or, you know, Aida leaping the length of the room to go straight for his royal jewels. Not that he'd shy aside, at this point. "You don't have to say anything. Trell and I will just...move into a different weyr." And leave Aida in charge of this one, of course.
"No?" Aida echoes back at him, finishing folding the scarf and setting it back down, her gaze swinging up again to lock on him, lips curving up on one side so she can give him a lopsided smile. At his last words, up her eyebrows go again -- this time, both of them. "And precisely how will I get up and down, then?" She asks him, a thread of skepticism running through her tone. When she continues, it's back to conversational. "It's alright, Br'ce. I shouldn't have sent *her*; I misjudged her ability to, ah, have her way with things." Beat. "I'm disappointed, though -- this is an awful lot of fuss if you didn't even enjoy yourself." That's offered over with a dose of dry humor. "I'm not mad. Or upset. Or hurt. I don't feel betrayed, and I'm not going to throw a tantrum. Or leave. Or yell, at this point, though I may very well do so if you persist in behaving as if this is the end of the world. You do recollect that I love you, yes?"
Br'ce stares at Aida, gape-mouthed. A sudden sense of whirling vertigo sets in, leaving him clutching now with both arms against the walls, feeling the room spin around him. Congratulations, you have now just /officially/ blown his mind. Nothing but incoherent goggling noises come from his throat.
Blink. Blink. Well, damn. She broke him. Aida brings a hand up to brush her curls out of her face, eying him with a measure of concern. "Ah, Br'ce? Maybe...you should sit down. But not on the floor, because there's alcohol there. Can you make it to the chair?" She abandons her spot where she was clutching at the table, circling around to pull out the chair closest to him and turn it helpfully. See? Chair.
Goggle. Gape. At least he's breathing. But he's now staring at Aida asif she were some kind of strange beast from the depths of the oceans, jungle, and mountain caves, all at once.
Exhaling a sigh, Aida picks her way around the spill to where he is, reaching to try and take hold of him so she can lead him over to the chair. "Come on, sit, before you fall down," she chides him lightly.
Whimper. Resistance.
"Br'ce," Aida states, voice firm. "Come sit down." Both hands wrap around one of his arms, or at least try, so that she can dig her heels and pull him in that direction.
This, at least, gets some reaction from him. Eyes rolling wildly, Br'ce allows himself to be led, stumbling, towards the chair. Now only able to look at the Aida-sea-air-land-beast-lagoon-creature out of the corner of his eye. No discernable brain activity going on.
Drag, drag, drag. Aida pulls him to the chair, then shoves him down into it. Once he's safely there, she gives him another skeptical look, then shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Men. She circles around to her own chair, plopping down into it and leaning down to start untying her boots. They're set under the table, and then she's up again, setting about putting the weyr to rights. This involves dealing with the fire first, cleaning up the alcohol, and all of that, while she waits for him to come back to his senses. Hopefully.
Recovery is a slow process. Eyes follow Aida nervously around the room, with the intensity of a caged bird watching the cat prowl outside. The first sign of returning consciousness is a slow increase in the pace of his breathing, going from slow and even to fast and shallow, to hyperventilating. He's pale and sweaty, skin clammy. And starting to shake. Classic symptoms of shock, despite the lack of any overt injury.
Oh shells. Aida tosses the towel used to clean up the alcohol off into the basket, then climbs to her feet again and puts her hands on her hips, staring at him. "Br'ce," she complains, then shakes her head and turns, swiftly turning to go drag a few blankets out of the sleeping area. When she reemerges, they're over a shoulder, and she's heading for him, attempting to drag him out of his chair and towards the fire.
:lets himself be dragged, and has enough presence of mind to clutch the blankets around himself. He huddles in the pile of them, near the newly-built up fire. He stares fixedly into the depths, and his breathing and shivering gradually lessen over time, and then vanish, leaving him feeling as weak as a new-born kitten, and sweating merely from the extra heat. Still, the blankets are clutched tightly around his shoulders. Now buying time to think, rather than not thinking at all.
There's a moment of fussing as he sits, rather than lies down, but with the clutching at the blankets she calms about it, watching him carefully. Okay, not dying. Aida shakes her head again and stops staring at him, ruffling a hand through her hair as she turns and heads for the desk. Plop. It's rifled through at apparent random as she goes for something in particular. Apparently, he's being let to think without any further interruption from her.
A log pops in the fire, causing sparks to fly. "You sent her specifically to--to..." The brownrider's back is not too terribly expressive, and he doesn't look over his shoulder. The voice gives very little away, though perhaps the shifting to pull the blankets even tighter does. "...you meant for that to happen." A statement of fact, not a question.
"What?" Aida stops, putting the papers down and twisting in her chair to stare over at him. "/No/," she points out, tone entirely disbelieving. "I did /not/. I /expected/ you to tell her no. I had no idea she'd actually be persuasive enough to manage to talk you into it. I *sent* her with your lunch and told her I wouldn't kill her if something happened." Beat. "Which I won't. What I meant to happen was her going in, flirting with you and displaying her interest, and that was that. Because I said I would."
"If something happened. I see." Br'ce lapses into silence once more, staring at the fire as if it contains the answers to all his problems. "It still doesn't change anything." He says finally. "I did something reprehensible. And unforgiveable. T'ral is right, I need to face my responsibilities." This last bit is said more to himself than to Aida.
"If I hadn't, she wouldn't have indicated at all that she was interested, because, well, she wouldn't have." Aida points out. No need to explain that she can be a little scary. She slides up to her feet, abandoning the desk in favor of moving over to drop down beside him on the floor. "I'm not having any problem forgiving you, you know," she points out. "What does 'face your responsibilities' *mean*?"
"I'm not the person you thought I was. Nor am I the person that /I/ thought I was." Br'ce says bleakly. "I can't make any excuses for what happened. It did. And it was my fault. You may be prepared to forgive me, but I'm not prepared to forgive myself." If castigation isn't going to come from an outside source, he's more than willing to self-flagellate. "There is no excuse, no mitigating factor, for what I did. You don't deserve someone like me."
"Oh, shut /up/," Aida tells him, a hint of exasperation coming into her tone. "Listen to you. Woe, I did something bad, it's the end of the world." Both hands come up, so that she can try and shove at his upper arm and shoulder lightly, playfully. "Look at me, you big goof. How about as an excuse or mitigating factor 'it's okay with my girl'? I /love/ you, and it's /okay/. You might have some internal bits to work out, but don't you bring me into that portion of things, do you understand?" Beat. "And yes, I know. You're too good for me. I'm glad you finally see that."
"Bad? Bad doesn't even begin to cover it." Br'ce, however, declines to supply an appropriately strong enough word. The big ones just don't have the same flair as the 4-letter ones. "How can it be okay with you?" He demands, finally looking over at Aida with an anguished expression. "I /cheated/ on you. When you were counting on me not to. With a total stranger. And..." He hangs his head, burying it in the blanket, making his next words come out muffled. "..I did enjoy it." he admits, almost inaudibly. "I'm so shameless that I actually enjoyed ... in my /office/, of all places..."
Oh, he's hiding his face. That's good, because it means she can set her jaw for a moment and suppress the very brief flash of unpleasant emotions. Aida gets it back under control and puts back on her smile, reaching out to grab hold of the blanket and lift it away from his face, leaning down to peer at him. "Because enjoying sex is bad?" She asks, putting a hint of something mildly confused into her tone. "Does it help if I pointed out that you never actually said you weren't going to sleep with anyone else?" Will he let himself off on a technicality?
"I said I love you. I /told/ her I loved you. It was implied." Br'ce says stubbornly. He's doing his damndest not to let himself off at all. It makes him feel better, to feel worse. If Aida's not going to feel bad on his account, well, he'll feel bad enough for the both of them! "I shouldn't have enjoyed it. It wasn't with you. I'm not /supposed/ to enjoy it if I love you and it's not with you." Still, he sees a ray of light--there's a faint tinge of hope to his words. Speaking of suppositions, now, instead of absolutes.
"You..." Aida trails off, and she can't help but let out a soft laugh, offering him a warm smile to go with it as she scoots over and attempts to lean forward against his side, chin on his shoulders and arms wrapping around him. "I love you, Br'ce. You're a wonderful man. While I am not speaking from experience, here -- I am at least these days fairly aware of things, and I do not believe that love is a prerequisite for having an enjoyable tumble. Have you ever had sex with someone you didn't love?"
Br'ce stiffens in surprise, though he doesn't push Aida away. In fact, after a moment, he leans in as well, taking solace in the unexpected comfort. While he would love to castigate himself further, he feared losing Aida so much that this is an entirely welcome surprise. Well. Once he got over the surprise bit. "Uhh." There's a moment's dithering. Apparently she definitely /hasn't/ been talking to T'ral about his past girlfriends. "Yes? But--I wasn't ... with any other girls at the time." One day, he'll be able to say the word. Just not today. "Wait, what do you mean you don't speak from experience?" All of a sudden, Tiv's casual question of 'are you sure she...?' is coming back to haunt him.
"I've never had sex with anyone but you," Aida points out quietly, giving him a puzzled sort of look -- enough so that her own tension fades considerably, with her distracted from it. "Which means I've never had sex with anyone I don't love. So I don't /know/ it's not a prerequisite, I just...expect it isn't." Pause. "So you have, and I imagine you enjoyed yourself. So why should your being with me actually /prevent/ you from enjoying it with somebody else? That makes no logical *sense*. I mean, it's not something you do because it /hurts/."
"Oh. Right." Br'ce digests this for a moment. It's amazing how much normalcy a bit of confusion suddenly restores in these two. "It doesn't. But it should." He says guiltily. This whole philandering business is a new one to him, too. "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again in the future." There's a slight pause. "But you have to promise not to send more temptation my way. I'm a weak man." This is said with sadly closed eyes.
Squeeze. Aida tightens her arms, squeezing on him and tipping her head in to press a kiss against his shoulder. "Br'ce," she says, voice a little sing-song. "It's okay. And, ah -- you realize that in life, there's probably going to be a lot of temptation thrown your way, right? I mean, this all /started/ because I pointed out that it was there. And, I mean -- Flights? You can't make that promise. You /shouldn't/ make that promise."
"I can." Br'ce says stubbornly. "I've only let Trellazoth chase a few greens every once in a long while. He's used to it. He likes you, he'll understand." he blithely promises Aida. "There's going to be enough temptation, I can do without any more being thrown my way. I'd much rather be blissfully ignorant, come to think of it. This never would have happened if I hadn't said anything." He untucks the blanket a little to cool off, making room for Aida underneath as well.
Pause. "Br'ce," Aida says, loosening her grip on him and scooting back a little, giving him as much of a stern look as she can manage. "You did not just...no," she says. "No, I do not accept that promise from you, and if you keep poor Trellazoth from chasing greens for my sake I will never forgive you. 'He likes you, he'd understand'? That is so /mean/. He...he...he has needs, too!"
Br'ce looks at Aida, incredulously. "He understands. He volunteered for it, actually, without my having to say anything. He hasn't chased any greens since we got here. It's not like he suddenly needs to. And, and, and, what if he wins? I mean, great for him...terrible for us." Mainly because he suddenly has an image of Trellazoth deciding to chase Immath, and himself waking up next to Tavaly. Aaaaahhhh! Br'ce bites down on a mental scream, settling for crossed arms. "It's not for your sake, it's for /our/ sake." They outnumber Trell, so ha.
"It is not terrible for us," Aida counters promptly, sitting up straight and bringing her arms up over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. "It is not, and I don't care if he's the sweetest and most understanding dragon ever, it's not /fair/ to him. Since you /got/ here? 'I've got a girl and I'm getting laid regularly so you can't ever'. No. No, no, no. So what if he wins? He actually -- gasp -- gets to vent some sexual frustration? Oh /no/. Sex...isn't /bad/, Br'ce. It's not."
"No, it's not, but it should be with the person you love." Br'ce maintains. He's stuck on this point. Though the fairness argument does make some inroads. "At least promise me you'll let me know... you know. If it's all right." He looks pleadingly at Aida. Yes, please give girls a stamp of approval before letting Br'ce go after them. This makes a great deal of sense.
"It's alright," Aida says, giving him a puzzled look and deflating, bringing a hand up to shove her hair from her face. "I just said that. It's all right. Whoever rises that he wants to chase is fine with me." One of her shoulders is lifted in a languid sort of shrug. "Not that I can believe I'm saying this," and oh her tone is so dry, with these words, "But you can have sex with whoever you want to." She emphasizes the word sex fairly heavily.
Br'ce stares at Aida, disbelievingly. "But...what about faithfulness? Isn't that important? Loyalty?" Excuse you, you're shaking one of the foundations of his world here. Besides, his innate sense of fairness is saying that if he can do this, he should extend the same courtesy to Aida. Which is something that he's choking on right now. "I'm not about to go and sleep around with lots of girls. No matter how much you might want me to." he protests, a little shrilly. There's something /really/ wrong with this conversation.
"You love me," Aida points out mildly, lifting an eyebrow at him. "You're not going to leave me over some little piece of tail, are you? You are faithful to me, and loyal to me, where it counts." And she leans forward towards him again, reaching a hand out so she can tap a finger against his chest where his heart is. "You're a rider, Br'ce. The moral standards of a Weyr are the way they are for a reason."
"I love you." Br'ce confirms. That, at least, is one thing that has not wavered throughout this entire experience. "I may be a rider, but I was a holder first. Holder values make me who I am, rider or no. I don't plan on abandoning them entirely." He has a little bit of the man-sucking-a-lemon expression on his face. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, there aren't any greens that Trellazoth is particularly interested in chasing. And I don't even want to so much as /look/ at another girl for Turns."
"There's no need for bridge crossing when we come to it; don't say you won't, now. Just...don't," Aida says, shaking her head lightly at him and offering up a very small smile. "That way if it comes up again, we won't have a repeat of tonight. Just know that it's okay with me, so long as, you know, you let me know about it, and you let them know it's just sex and they know about me. And that's that, we don't need to talk about it any more." Pause. "Are you okay, now?"
"I think so." Br'ce says bravely. Though he still has a little bit of the man-sucking-a-lemon expression on his face. It's going to take a while for all this to percolate through. And possibly involve little mini-breakages, which T'ral should be able to patch. But he'll be all right. "And the same...goes...for you." He manages to squeeze out the words grudgingly, like pulling sore teeth, but his sense of fair play compels him. Excuse him while his blood pressure rises, as he contemplates other men's hands on his Aida.
Starting to lean in and shift to nestle against him, Aida pauses at the words squeezed out. She draws back again, giving him a puzzled look. "What?" Beat. Nosewrinkle. "Oh." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then scoots to nestle herself in against him again, lifting her chin so she can tilt her head and lean in to press a kiss just off the corner of his lips. "I love you, Br'ce. Very much."
"...okay." Br'ce acquiesces, suddenly cheered into a boyish grin. Really, Aida is far too nice to him. "I love you too, Aida. More than words can say." He turns his head a fraction, brushing noses on the way to more intimate goals. All is forgiven, and future problems forestalled. Mostly. Maybe. But, for now, things are going well.
Relief. So much relief, when she sees that grin. He's not exploded. There is no more of that sense that she broke him completely. No more guilty feeling. Whew. Aida wraps her arms up around him and presses close, forgoing any further words in favor of putting her lips against his, relief giving way to much more insistent feelings. Time to seal the deal.