Denied! No, wait, that doesn't work...
Who: R'vain, Essdara
Where: Stores, HRW
When: A short time after Nari's departure
Comment: R'vain takes a shot at getting Dara to the gather. We may backscene more of this someday, but posting this much as it can easily stand alone.
It's evening, a bit after dinnertime, and the stores are quiet. A bubble of lite in one row of shelves shows where Dara is, a hide against one arm and a marker in the opposite hand. She is methodically going through the herbs, catalouging the weyr's supplies while humming so badly off tune that tunnelsnakes are fleeing.
R'vain hates this place. Not as much as he hates Records, and not as much as he hates that tiny little room off the hatching sands, and not as much as he hates any number of other little coffin caves the Weyr boasts. But he comes here only because he has run out of other likely spots to find her. The scent of soup is on him; he tried the kitchens, and it's from that way he's come. He stops a few steps into the doorway and lets the rumble of his voice, low and unusually-- even for him-- commanding travel down the aisle instead of his feet. "I've been looking for you."
Another distraction! But a welcome one, to judge by Dara's response. The singing, of course, stops immidiately; she's not cruel, after all. The globe of light from her basket bobs as she picks it up, setting the hide down in an open spot. She approaches the bronzerider with a warm smile, edged with a tuoch of uncertainty. "Weyrlingmaster." She says formally as she comes up to him. "What brings you looking for this humble kitchen worker, alone in the stores?"
Maybe R'vain has a tin ear. As the echoes of her song die away he remains there, grinning for the fact that she stopped and came toward him, as she should. "Don't tempt me t'show you," he murmurs roughly, and reaches for her waist anyway with a swinging paw, possessive. He is poor at playing the game of dame and suitor, but makes a little effort by saying, "I came t'take you away from all this." The other paw's swing shows off her work. Ugh, work.
Essdara raises a brow, hands coming up to rest on his chest. "I would never want to acidentally tempt you." she says, her voice teasing. "And I would never point out how deserted or dark and concealing this room can be. And where are you whisking me away to? Has Igen finally lured you away to train their weyrlings, and you are taking me with you?"
He can't help it. Her teases have always affected him; now that he knows he has her, they have effects ever more severe. He glares down at her, arm going around her, expression dire with a desire for her he can never quite sate. "Igen," he repeats, trying to catch the gist of what she said with a brain that doesn't want to work that well just now. R'vain's quiet a moment, then grinds his teeth and steps back from her, letting out a tense sigh in so doing-- he came with a purpose and dammit, the purpose was not quite what is rocketing around behind his sharp green eyes. "No. No, but I would, if they did, which they won't, and we're better for't." No luck with the lord-and-lady routine at all. "I want t'take you to th'gather. When's good?" Well, presumptuous, isn't he.
A resigned sigh from Dara; the distraction wasn't without purpose, and it's a defeated smile that she gives him as he steps back. "I'm not going." Dara says, in what she hopes is a firm voice. "Bad things happen at gathers, and either it's because I am there, or coincidental, but either way I have no urge to go. I don't want anyone else I care about hurt for a while." She looks up at him and braces a bit. "And I'm not giving in on this one."
"Bad things happen at gathers?" R'vain looks nonplussed. He steps forward-- enough of the heat radiating off of him has dissipated in their separation that he dares to reach for her again, to draw her against him and offer this time comfort. Well, maybe to steal a little rub of her body against his, too, but comfort! "Girl, bad things happen at big messy whatnots here lately, but this is th'Hold and it's-- dammit, I still ain't had a chance to dance with you. You got t'come along." He can't muster up any fury, though, and his words come off somewhat less than commanding. If it's a plead, it's a weak one. Mostly it sounds like a complaint.
She leans against him, sighing. "R'vain." She says, softly; she change from title to name that so often precedes an admission. "I've given in and made myself pretty twice. The first time, one of my best friends was attacked, other friends hurt. The second, someone I loved dearly was murdered, and we still don't know who by. Yes, bad things happen. And between them, I got to dance once. It's just... Not worth the pain, the fear. No matter how much I love to dance and how much I looked forward to it last time."
"You don't have t'make yourself," he huffs, but that's not her point-- prettification-- and he doesn't press it. Instead he closes her in his arms and bends his head so he can kiss her head, and so that when he speaks again he doesn't have to power his voice more than a low idling rumble. "When a place, a community is all messed up, then that's gonna come out most when everyone's together all in one place. But this ain't like that. It's not a big celebration fuss whatever. It's just a gather. There's a gather somewhere on Pern I dunno, every other seven, big or small or tiny. I want t'take you to it. I want t'dance with you and I want t'-- I got somethin' in mind, too." R'vain lifts his head and sucks in a breath, having forgotten to breathe for speaking.
Essdara leans into him while she talks, shivering just slightly. Cheek to chest, she listens to his heartbeat and breathing as much as his words. "But, the Weyr will be there, and where we are, R'vain, chaos follows." She sighs, the hands that remain on his chest petting it lightly. "I want to go. But it scares me. I don't think I can handle it if something happens, R'vain. And... What've you got in mind?"
"I got no need t'hang around with th'Weyr. We'll walk th'stalls and dance and eat and make out somewhere less'n private and it'll be wonderful." R'vain squeezes her a little to punctuate his words, a bit of rough humor accenting the making out part-- of course. "Nothing's going t'happen, because we won't get near anything happening, and if something somehow does happen you'll have me 'cause I ain't going t'leave your side." A paw comes up to pet back her hair and he looks down on her, eyes bright and keen and fierce, mouth changing shape as he thinks. But he doesn't explain his other plans. "Come with me," he suggests, again.
And when has Dara ever been able to deny him anything? A soft, resigned sigh comes out of her, and now it's her turn to take a step back and to look up at him. "If it's important to you, R'vain, then I will go." A slight smile. "I'll even make myself look pretty, maybe the dress from Turn's End... I don't think you saw that one, much." A deep breath is taken, and the question that escapes is almost childlike in her need for reassurance. "And you'll make sure nothing happens? And you won't leave me, or get kidnapped or killed?"
His arm extends a little so she can step back, and from her hair the other paw falls, leaving her something remotely resembling personal space. Remotely. "I didn't see it near enough, no. But you don't have t'make yourself pretty. You are." His shoulders rise and fall, and he half-turns, as if he's a mind to escort her out. Into that dress now, chop chop, maybe. "I'll do th'best I can. I won't leave you, and f'Faranth's sake if I was goin' t'get kidnapped or killed it've been before now." R'vain pauses, realizing that he's herding her and stopping on the realization. He looks at her again, grinning with all his many teeth. "-- When's good?"
Essdara smiles over at him. "Whenever you like. Now, if you want, though I'll need a bit to change. And I know I don't /have/ to, but believe it or not... I like to. If I am going to dance with a handsome bronzerider, I want to look the part better than this drabness offers." A hand reaches for his. "If, that is, Ruvoth can handle a woman in a dress." She teases.
"If you change, I'll have to." It's not a complaint, just a realization. Again R'vain turns, to escort her out after all. "Which is a shame since I'd rather wait on you and try t'make you nervous while you dress. Ruvoth probably doesn't know one way from th'other as far as how you sit-- but you could sit my lap if you'd like, instead." One of those rare unsubtle twitches of a waggly brow later he asks, "Where'll I pick you up, and about how long y'need?"
"Give me a half hour, to freshen up a bit and then get dressed?" Dara asks, blithely ignoring the comment about sitting in his lap. "Been working in here and in the bowl today, and I'm plenty dusty and sweaty. If I am going to go, shard it, I want to look my best with you." A glance over at him, teasing. "And you should look your best, like you did at the last gather. You were quite... Appetising."
"Half hour," he agrees, pausing just outside the storeroom entrance to glance over and stroll a look up and down her-- only to crack a grin that turns into a grimace as she mentions his own dress. "I got something. Th'stuff...th'clothes I had then came back from laundry ruined." For a moment something very dark shadows his eyes, something dark and bitter and mean. A glance down, another back up, and he shrugs it off. "I've got some other stuff'll do-- I hope, anyway." The grin comes back, the clouds depart. R'vain hopes at her, toothily.
Where: Stores, HRW
When: A short time after Nari's departure
Comment: R'vain takes a shot at getting Dara to the gather. We may backscene more of this someday, but posting this much as it can easily stand alone.
It's evening, a bit after dinnertime, and the stores are quiet. A bubble of lite in one row of shelves shows where Dara is, a hide against one arm and a marker in the opposite hand. She is methodically going through the herbs, catalouging the weyr's supplies while humming so badly off tune that tunnelsnakes are fleeing.
R'vain hates this place. Not as much as he hates Records, and not as much as he hates that tiny little room off the hatching sands, and not as much as he hates any number of other little coffin caves the Weyr boasts. But he comes here only because he has run out of other likely spots to find her. The scent of soup is on him; he tried the kitchens, and it's from that way he's come. He stops a few steps into the doorway and lets the rumble of his voice, low and unusually-- even for him-- commanding travel down the aisle instead of his feet. "I've been looking for you."
Another distraction! But a welcome one, to judge by Dara's response. The singing, of course, stops immidiately; she's not cruel, after all. The globe of light from her basket bobs as she picks it up, setting the hide down in an open spot. She approaches the bronzerider with a warm smile, edged with a tuoch of uncertainty. "Weyrlingmaster." She says formally as she comes up to him. "What brings you looking for this humble kitchen worker, alone in the stores?"
Maybe R'vain has a tin ear. As the echoes of her song die away he remains there, grinning for the fact that she stopped and came toward him, as she should. "Don't tempt me t'show you," he murmurs roughly, and reaches for her waist anyway with a swinging paw, possessive. He is poor at playing the game of dame and suitor, but makes a little effort by saying, "I came t'take you away from all this." The other paw's swing shows off her work. Ugh, work.
Essdara raises a brow, hands coming up to rest on his chest. "I would never want to acidentally tempt you." she says, her voice teasing. "And I would never point out how deserted or dark and concealing this room can be. And where are you whisking me away to? Has Igen finally lured you away to train their weyrlings, and you are taking me with you?"
He can't help it. Her teases have always affected him; now that he knows he has her, they have effects ever more severe. He glares down at her, arm going around her, expression dire with a desire for her he can never quite sate. "Igen," he repeats, trying to catch the gist of what she said with a brain that doesn't want to work that well just now. R'vain's quiet a moment, then grinds his teeth and steps back from her, letting out a tense sigh in so doing-- he came with a purpose and dammit, the purpose was not quite what is rocketing around behind his sharp green eyes. "No. No, but I would, if they did, which they won't, and we're better for't." No luck with the lord-and-lady routine at all. "I want t'take you to th'gather. When's good?" Well, presumptuous, isn't he.
A resigned sigh from Dara; the distraction wasn't without purpose, and it's a defeated smile that she gives him as he steps back. "I'm not going." Dara says, in what she hopes is a firm voice. "Bad things happen at gathers, and either it's because I am there, or coincidental, but either way I have no urge to go. I don't want anyone else I care about hurt for a while." She looks up at him and braces a bit. "And I'm not giving in on this one."
"Bad things happen at gathers?" R'vain looks nonplussed. He steps forward-- enough of the heat radiating off of him has dissipated in their separation that he dares to reach for her again, to draw her against him and offer this time comfort. Well, maybe to steal a little rub of her body against his, too, but comfort! "Girl, bad things happen at big messy whatnots here lately, but this is th'Hold and it's-- dammit, I still ain't had a chance to dance with you. You got t'come along." He can't muster up any fury, though, and his words come off somewhat less than commanding. If it's a plead, it's a weak one. Mostly it sounds like a complaint.
She leans against him, sighing. "R'vain." She says, softly; she change from title to name that so often precedes an admission. "I've given in and made myself pretty twice. The first time, one of my best friends was attacked, other friends hurt. The second, someone I loved dearly was murdered, and we still don't know who by. Yes, bad things happen. And between them, I got to dance once. It's just... Not worth the pain, the fear. No matter how much I love to dance and how much I looked forward to it last time."
"You don't have t'make yourself," he huffs, but that's not her point-- prettification-- and he doesn't press it. Instead he closes her in his arms and bends his head so he can kiss her head, and so that when he speaks again he doesn't have to power his voice more than a low idling rumble. "When a place, a community is all messed up, then that's gonna come out most when everyone's together all in one place. But this ain't like that. It's not a big celebration fuss whatever. It's just a gather. There's a gather somewhere on Pern I dunno, every other seven, big or small or tiny. I want t'take you to it. I want t'dance with you and I want t'-- I got somethin' in mind, too." R'vain lifts his head and sucks in a breath, having forgotten to breathe for speaking.
Essdara leans into him while she talks, shivering just slightly. Cheek to chest, she listens to his heartbeat and breathing as much as his words. "But, the Weyr will be there, and where we are, R'vain, chaos follows." She sighs, the hands that remain on his chest petting it lightly. "I want to go. But it scares me. I don't think I can handle it if something happens, R'vain. And... What've you got in mind?"
"I got no need t'hang around with th'Weyr. We'll walk th'stalls and dance and eat and make out somewhere less'n private and it'll be wonderful." R'vain squeezes her a little to punctuate his words, a bit of rough humor accenting the making out part-- of course. "Nothing's going t'happen, because we won't get near anything happening, and if something somehow does happen you'll have me 'cause I ain't going t'leave your side." A paw comes up to pet back her hair and he looks down on her, eyes bright and keen and fierce, mouth changing shape as he thinks. But he doesn't explain his other plans. "Come with me," he suggests, again.
And when has Dara ever been able to deny him anything? A soft, resigned sigh comes out of her, and now it's her turn to take a step back and to look up at him. "If it's important to you, R'vain, then I will go." A slight smile. "I'll even make myself look pretty, maybe the dress from Turn's End... I don't think you saw that one, much." A deep breath is taken, and the question that escapes is almost childlike in her need for reassurance. "And you'll make sure nothing happens? And you won't leave me, or get kidnapped or killed?"
His arm extends a little so she can step back, and from her hair the other paw falls, leaving her something remotely resembling personal space. Remotely. "I didn't see it near enough, no. But you don't have t'make yourself pretty. You are." His shoulders rise and fall, and he half-turns, as if he's a mind to escort her out. Into that dress now, chop chop, maybe. "I'll do th'best I can. I won't leave you, and f'Faranth's sake if I was goin' t'get kidnapped or killed it've been before now." R'vain pauses, realizing that he's herding her and stopping on the realization. He looks at her again, grinning with all his many teeth. "-- When's good?"
Essdara smiles over at him. "Whenever you like. Now, if you want, though I'll need a bit to change. And I know I don't /have/ to, but believe it or not... I like to. If I am going to dance with a handsome bronzerider, I want to look the part better than this drabness offers." A hand reaches for his. "If, that is, Ruvoth can handle a woman in a dress." She teases.
"If you change, I'll have to." It's not a complaint, just a realization. Again R'vain turns, to escort her out after all. "Which is a shame since I'd rather wait on you and try t'make you nervous while you dress. Ruvoth probably doesn't know one way from th'other as far as how you sit-- but you could sit my lap if you'd like, instead." One of those rare unsubtle twitches of a waggly brow later he asks, "Where'll I pick you up, and about how long y'need?"
"Give me a half hour, to freshen up a bit and then get dressed?" Dara asks, blithely ignoring the comment about sitting in his lap. "Been working in here and in the bowl today, and I'm plenty dusty and sweaty. If I am going to go, shard it, I want to look my best with you." A glance over at him, teasing. "And you should look your best, like you did at the last gather. You were quite... Appetising."
"Half hour," he agrees, pausing just outside the storeroom entrance to glance over and stroll a look up and down her-- only to crack a grin that turns into a grimace as she mentions his own dress. "I got something. Th'stuff...th'clothes I had then came back from laundry ruined." For a moment something very dark shadows his eyes, something dark and bitter and mean. A glance down, another back up, and he shrugs it off. "I've got some other stuff'll do-- I hope, anyway." The grin comes back, the clouds depart. R'vain hopes at her, toothily.