Mayte and K'vvan


Deep in the Stores, Mayte isn't technically breaking W'rin's rules for K'vvan.


It is sunset of the first day of the second month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Igen Weyr Stores

OOC Date


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Boxes, everywhere: some are buried beneath the fugue of dust and spinner-webs, thrust unceremoniously into unseen corners, full of mysterious contents, their solid lids as yet unbroached. Still others line the dirt-smeared walls, damage evident in the caved-in sides or lids set askew. Littering the floor, debris has been left piled in disorganization, left untouched by inattentive drudges and administrative staff. Dull glows splutter feebly in their worn baskets, and the air is fusty and moist, shrouded in the humidity that is Igen. Moisture collects, languid, in the corners of the cavern, lending their own fragrance of mildew and green, growing things,while the occasional dry scratch of scales suggests inhabitants one might not want to inspect too closely.

"If they havn't done it in five years… I should stop wondering if they're ever going to clean this mess up." K'vvan pokes at a spinner web covered box, and after looking distastefully at said finger finally mans up and pulls it off the shelf. Inside he dives, pushing around the contents looking for whatever has brought him down to the stores this evenin. Occasionally he pauses to rub a hand quickly getting covered in dust on his pants.

Pern needs the Pink Panther tune because it would be Mayte's theme song right now, quietly slinking into the Stores. She's here on business, according to the clipboard under one arm, but from the moment she passes through the doorway and overhears a certain voice, the young Mirage rider goes into panther-stalker mode. Creep creep, until she's standing roughly between the speaker and the doorway. No escape this time. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, she waits a moment for K'vvan to see her (it's not that dark here) but impatience sets in and a toe starts to tap erratically.

"There we go," His search successful K'vvan pulls out a hank of thread from the basket. He's rather satisfied as he holds it up to check the color, and then shoves the spinner covered basket back into place. The hank of thread is going into his pocket as he turns. Only to freeze abruptly when he sees who is standing in the doorway. "May," No. His lips shut abruptly. "Weyrwoman. I'll, just be going, excuse me." He eyes the distance between Mayte and the shelves. Can he slip past without touching her?

For a moment, Mayte's face is vulnerable and open. Wariness, anger, hurt, and a myriad of emotions crease over her brow, eyes tightening underneath, and then the man calls her Weyrwoman and she freezes, expression blank, schooled to stone. She doesn't actually reply, though her arms hitch across her check, shoulders pull back in an attempt to power-up! to some new larger size. No escape now, young lad. The silence continues as she studies the man, his basket, and the man again. "No. I don't think so. K'vvan." Finally, she says a thing! The name is flat, purposefully neutral, but then her lips tighten into some semblance of a sardonic grin: "You're not breaking the rule if I'm talking to you."

See K'vvan? He's standing there just a bit frozen in place. Large pictures of ANGRY W'RIN swim up in his brain when she doesn't move to allow him to move past. His eyes rest on her feet, like a respectful rider would do, when her words catch him more than slightly flat footed. Eyes jerk upwards and rest on black hair, and dark eyes. He's not quite sure what to say… because she has a point. W'rin and Trek had even hinted as much when they handed down the consequence to the greenrider. But. Abruptly K'vvan straightens to his full height, and crosses his hands behind his back. At attention they call it. "Ma'am."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Mayte swears, "I'm not Faranth, look me in the damn eye!" Those dark eyes are flashing in the dim light, while dark, growing-long hair is tossed over her shoulder, "And don't," finger-shaking, "Call me 'ma'am'." There's a lot of warning in that tone. Tucking that accusatory finger away, Mayte just stares at K'vvan for a few moments, her mouth opening and closing a few times, huffing once in a while to catch her breath. It's easy to plan how it'll all go, but the reality? "Fuck," Mayte says finally, with disappointed frustration. Note: she's still not shifted to let poor K'vvan by.

"What do you want Mayte?" K'vvan's voice holds more than a sigh to it as he does do exactly what she asks. His green eyes, not hidden behind hair for the first time in the whole of any of their interactions, look right into hers. "I'm not allowed to speak to you, at least for a few more months. An appology just sounds like bulls*it every time I think it through." His thread is tucked away into a pocket as he spreads his hands out in front of him.

Mayte continues staring at K'vvan, eyes widening as she realizes - oh yeah, no hair. Still, lips tighten over accounts of hurt, until he's done talking for a moment and now it's her turn: "Then stop talking. What do I want? I wan…" Pause. "Apology?" Whatever! She is Mayte, this will not de-rail her: "I want to tell y…" Fear flashes over her face and the breath she draws at her pause is a little shaky. It comes out, solid and sure, though: "I want to tell you," chin lift; she's going to do this: "how much you hurt me when you said that. What you said." There. It's out. It's all downhill from here right? Except Mayte needs a moment to collect her next words, while watching K'vvan warily.

K'vvan's lips part before he shuts them abruptly again. One hand reaches up to run though the fine hairs upon his head, and then down a cheek. He considers everything he could possibly say, and finally… "I'm four months sober."

She's thinking here! Mayte shoots a quick glare at the taller greenrider, pauses to consider that factoid, nods, and takes in breath again. "You… It just about killed me." Flat. Deadpan. Fact. "Wh…" A shake of dark hair, "No. I know why." Dark eyes watch K'vvan for a moment. Weighing and cautious.

"I don't think you do." His voice is quiet, and finally he allows his eyes to drop. "I was drunk, angry, frustrated, and jealous as s*it. I wasn't thinking. I… I know you wouldn't do that. Not even if your dragon happens to be gold." He rubs a hand up and down his other arm as the floor gets his gaze. "It cost me everything."

Yeah, getting told you don't understand what you think you understand? Mayte sucks her breath in through her teeth, hands clenching around the clipboard. Like she wants to break it on something. "You like getting lumped in with the usual greenrider stigma?" she asks, a little waspishly, but moves on; she feels her point is made there. "And it took months for me to walk into the Cantina without someone snickering." There's a smirk, but it's not an amused one. "You lost everything?" That's not sympathy, "I lost any respect I'd ever worked for, in the Bazaar. Because I'm a girl." That nose is possibly a little red, but Mayte's totally not tearing up. Someone just needs to dust in here.

K'vvan rubs his hand along his arm again. What can he say to her? He would call it goldrider pride, but Mayte was strong headed before she impressed. It was one of the things he actually liked about her, and a reason they were friends. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm working to make sure it doesn't happen again, for real this time." His gaze moves back up to hers.

Chin goes up slightly on each inhale as Mayte ponders K'vvan's words. Finally: "No. You shouldn't have." Letting sleeping canines lie is still a trick she needs to learn. She sucks on her upper lip for a moment, thinking, before letting it go. "W'rin has you on a strict schedule?" No need to answer that, Mayte powers on through, "And Nadeeth is doing well?" Eyes barely flicker to somewhere beyond the walls, "And what are you even doing here, anyways?"

K'vvan pauses, "I'm back in Arroyo. Under N'cal. Nadeeth wasn't doing well in Whirlwind. She's better now," he's quick to add the last. He hesitates for a second, flicking a glance upwards at the stairs, probably just WAITING for W'rin to appear down those stairs. When he doesn't, K'vvan steps forward, and reaches out for Mayte's hand. "I am on morning PT with him for the next… always. And N'cal has my a** in a vice. Free time… I'm helping a… former wingmate out." At least he didn't call Erissa a friend? Mayte would've seen right though that lie. "I didn't want to stay away. When I sobered up… you were the first thing I thought about. How it was going to get back to you."

Mayte is at least willing to listen attentively to that. "Good," is what she says, a little unkindly, about the greenrider's preoccupations, "And how are sweeps going?" Oh good, we're swinging back to civility, but there's a hunger in Mayte's tone, her eyes a bit more focused - so focused that her hand actually reaches towards K'vvan for a moment before she realizes and, trying to act casual, lets it fall to her side. That he thought of her? Mayte tosses her feathering bangs back, looking a bit more mulishly stubborn.

K'vvan notices that reaching out, and his newfound resolutions INCLUDE reaching out to people. And this is going to be included in that. When her hand pulls away, his keep reaches till he actually touches her. "Sweeps are… fine? How… are…" What do goldriders do?

Mayte sees the hand that K'vvan reaches to her at the last moment and steels herself against flinching - even after, success! Contact. "Good. Good that sweeps are going well. Are you circling round? You don't see anyone suspicious on the ground?" The goldrider looks up and stares, searching, at K'vvan. In answer to his question, Mayte cracks what might be the first honest grin of the night: "Well, the Weyr's still standing." So this is good, right? Except Mayte's smile is just faintly shadowed.

K'vvan isn't going to pull his hand way. No. Sorry Mayte. K'vvan keeps his hand on hers, lightly. She can pull away if she chooses. (Please don't, he's trying here). "I haven't seen anything…. should I?" K'vvan has been NOT in the bazaar, and honestly, the rumors haven't reached him. "Of course the weyr is still standing. You're probably great at taht sh*t."

Mayte strangely isn't pulling away either, though she does take a few breaths and relaxing into the feel of it is difficult and slow. She doesn't reply right away, and when she does, it's stilted with hidden messages: "I just… Circle back, if you have energy, okay? Switch sweeps at a moment's notice. Do one backwards." And what is this to cause? "And look for anything… weird. Unusual, okay? And tell me right away." For all that she's letting K'vvan hold her hand, there's still a hint of unease, as she chokes out a laugh. "We're trying. Really hard."

They're a weird combo. One which would cause anyone in the weyr to stare if hey walked down those stairs right now. "Why?" K'vvan shakes his head, "No, I don't need to know. I'll do it. I'm usually on the late evening sweep over the desert though. Near the Oasis." He glances down at their hands, and squeeses gently. "I'm sure it's fine."

Staring down at their hands when K'vvan squeezes hers, Mayte blinks and stills for a moment. Her voice is quiet, almost regretful: "I have… missed you," and it comes out almost painfully, "Even though Rhiscorath and… things have kept me busy." From that sight, she looks up to K'vvan and swallows noisily. Tries to smile a bit more gamely. "So you're liking Arroyo again, huh? Tasna got tapped for there."

"Shit… Mayte." K'vvan hesitates for a second. A deep breath, perhaps he's steeling himself, and he's stepping forward again. There's no distance between the two of them as he wraps his arms around the younger woman, and pulling her in tight. "I have missed you too. So f*king much." He doesn't even touch her attempt at changing the topic. "I won't screw up again. I swear."

Again, a moment of thinking it over, listening for footsteps and then Mayte lets K'vvan hug her. Except he's trapped one arm to her chest so she can only respond with the other, free arm. "You'd better not," and her voice is thick with hesitant amusement, or at least K'vvan's shirt, and maybe a bit of emotion too. Just maybe. "I'm still pissed." Though there's definitely less heat than before. Might be the muffling.

"You can be pissed at me forever." There's more than a hint of relief in K'vvan's voice, as one of the broken things in his life snaps back into place. He's almost ready to cry himself, but no. A deep breath, and he's stepping backwards, away from Mayte. "Just so long as you can give me a… fourth chance."

As K'vvan pulls away, Mayte looks up - there's no longing last clinging to, or heartfelt sigh… Just a little, private grin as she takes a deep breath and doesn't quite nod: "We'll see." Not a promise, per se, more a possibility, but she grins a little wickedly, "You can start by helping me find a few things…" She trails off as the clipboard gets a wave, "Or tell me what you're doing here in the first place?" So yeah, it's pretty much a chance for a chance.

K'vvan manages a rather strangled laugh as he looks down at the clipboard. "If you're going to actually organize this sh*thole, I'm all yours." As for her second question, he reaches into a pocket and pulls out the hank of thread. "One of my bags broke, and I needed thread to fix it. Sewing is kind of stupid, but," he shrugs, "Nadeeth likes when I do. Trying… to do more that she likes."

Mayte snorts quietly as she looks over K'vvan's shou… around K'vvan's shoulder to the rest of the room: "Actually, it'd take an army to clean all of this. I'm just searching for a few items right now." Giving the man a long, considering look, Mayte mms and offers a limited-time-only, only-ten-ever-released sweet smile: "Well, you shouldn't make her wait, should you?" There's a hint there, and Mayte even moves aside to study something sitting on a shelf. It happens to be dust. Dust is a fascinating thing to find on a shelf.

Her smile eteches a new look onto his own face, and he reaches out towards her again. This time, just towards that cliboard she holds. "Let me see your list? I had to dig through a few boxes to find this… Maybe I could point you in the right direction at least? I have an errand and sweeps later, so, Nadeeth has to wait till tomorrow anyway."

The clipboard! There's only a little grace with how Mayte hands the thing over to K'vvan, peering as it passes hands: "The right direction'd be great. The less time I spend in here, the better." Idly, she blows across some dust, just to watch it move. "The biggest thing there," a forefinger reaches out to tap at the first item on the list, "'d be where the spare linen is. Like, working-grade stuff." The second item is tapped, "And then, I need some of these," and then poor K'vvan has been enlisted into Mayte's cause of at least finding these items. It takes a little longer than expected, and they emerge a little dustier and both plotting on ways to get clean faster than the other. And maybe they come out of it a little clearer in mind as well.

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