Who

Reveka Daenerys

What

It's complicated

Mild swearing, sexual themes
Happens directly after Social Faux Pas

When

— On Pern —
It is 8:32 PM where you are.
It is evening of the fourth day of the first month of the thirteenth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the sixty-fourth day of Winter and 26 degrees. It is a clear night.
In Southern:
It is the sixty-fourth day of Summer and 105 degrees. The night is clear and humid.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the sixty-fourth day of Summer and 25 degrees. It's cold and dark out.

Where

Igen Weyr, Caravan Grounds, Reveka's Yurt, Daenerys' Yurt

OOC Date 20 Jan 2018 07:00

 

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"It was a slap in the face it's what it was!"


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Igen Caravan Grounds, Zingari Encampment

Reveka’s Yurt

The inside of this yurt is sparsely decorated for now, being so new. But brightly colored rugs have been scattered over the floor, saving where the large heating brazier sits in the middle of the floor, it's heat waves escaping out of the hole in the roof. There's a simple, if plush bed, big enough for two against one side, flanked by a simple night stand and a chair. A table sits off to the side, a pitcher for water and a bowl for washing upon it. Trunks hold Reveka's treasures and clothes and a couple of cabinets hold the rest of her things.



Reveka sweeps into her yurt, her mind a storm of emotion and confused thoughts. What the fuck had Daenerys meant by that? ‘Well, I'll certainly miss what little you wear when you dance.’ Hadn’t he been the one to turn her down? If Reveka remembers correctly (after all she had been half sloshed), she’d been quite willing to take on the ex-tanner for a night of debauchery, innocent and unskilled as she is, she’d been ready. But she’d got the distinct feeling that something she’d said or done had put him off that night, possibly admitting she was a virgin. What the fuck?? Growling a bit of frustration she grabs a wine skin and pours herself a drink, her nails tapping around the rim of the glass before she picks it up to drink. Was he trying to be an asshole? Because that had hurt. Giving a frustrated “Uuuughhhh….” she downs the wine and pours another. She’ll need a walk after this, because she’d already learned her lesson about getting too drunk.

Why had he said that? Daenerys asks of himself as he enters his own yurt, grabbing up his bottle of Zingari Red to pour himself a couple fingers into a short, wide glass. Resettling the bottle in its place he flings himself onto his bed, letting his long hair fly loose again as he slouches into the welcoming softness of his mattress. Reveka had obviously not been best pleased by that little comment of his — even though it’d been true; the girl was certainly sensual when she danced, whether she knew it or not. But — being told so? That, apparently, offended her. “Dammit.” Women: like tracking the west wind, and as difficult to keep steady. And yet — there had been the minute hope that she’d gotten the drift of it. But, well, whatever; if she didn’t understand, then she was perhaps not for him.

Reveka only finishes half of the second glass of wine before she pushes herself out of her yurt and out for her walk, breathing in the cool night air like a soothing balm. The thickness of the crowd affords a surprising amount of privacy for her to walk and try to sort out the confusion rattling around in her brain. Her temper, which so rarely goes on display, sits at the fore though, despite the walk. Sometime during her ruminating, she comes upon Daenerys’ Yurt and her eyes flick up to find it open, and it seems as if he’s in residence. An unexpected well of temper flares up in Reveka and before she has a chance to think straight she’s marching into the interior of his yurt, all decorum be damned and staring him down with her hands on her hips, eyes flaring with the heat of her confusion and anger. “Why the shells would you say something like that to me when you left the distinct impression that I didn’t do it for you? What’s with the sudden change of mind, eh?”
And suddenly….she’s really fucking nervous. Good job Rev, letting the mouth run things instead of the mind.

Now, ordinarily, anyone storming into his yurt would be confronted by shrieking lizards; luckily for Reveka, his crew’s off someplace, doing something firelizardy. Which means, naturally, that the leatherworker is startled into sitting up rather abruptly — and spilling some of that precious Red on himself while he’s at it. With a muffled curse, he sops ineffectually at the stuff staining his once-pristine white shirt, setting the glass down in order to free both hands for the task. Eventually, though, he’ll have to give it up as a lost cause,for fruit juice invariably ruins white shirts when you’re male and don’t really care that much about laundry.
He turns his attention to the irate Reveka, startled and a little bit annoyed — “The hell, girl!” he growls, pushing himself off the bed to rise to his full height, hands on hips. Does the stained shirt somewhat diminish his masculine authority? Oh, probably, but Daenerys doesn't really care; he’s just gonna go with it anyway. “Ever occur to you I didn’t want to try and screw a drunk virgin? What if it was just the damn alcohol talking? I am not that kind of man.” It’s been shown what he thinks of men who takes advantage of innocent girls — one can ask F’kan if one isn’t sure.

The sight of Daen being startled by her intrusion is damn near amusing and Reveka has to fight hard to maintain her offended demeanor when all her lips want to do is quirk up with amusement. And while she certainly had appreciated Daen’s sense of honor, the distinct feeling of being securely friend-zoned had lingered until tonight. And she’ll tell him as much. “The hell indeed! While I appreciate your sense of honor, I really do, that would have been my own damn mistake to make. Despite the fact that you’re right, I was in no state of mind to be making those decisions. But I got the distinct impression that your ‘no’ went beyond because I was just ‘some drunk virgin’!” Reveka huffs and her hands move from her hips to crossing under her arms. “I am not angry you said no to me Daenerys, that was a smart move, I’m angry because until tonight you you’ve kept that ‘friend’ space between us and then you haul off and make a comment like that!” Her lip trembles a bit, though not because she’s going to cry, “It’s a sharding slap in the face is what it is!”

“Yeah? And have to explain that to Willimina the next day? I think not.” Daenerys retorts, impatient with the discomfort of a wet shirt, indoors or not. He’ll just pull that off whether Reveka would appreciate the view or not. It’s her fault his shirt’s all wet, anyway. “It wasn’t just your choice, Reveka. I would have had to live with that decision, and I’d much rather have lived with saying no, then saying yes and have you confronting me for taking advantage.” Or whatever; Daenerys is clearly off guard, here, and seems to know his argument is weak, so weak; women don’t usually come after him demanding answers, dammit.
And then he squints at her, surprised all over again: now they come down to the real part of it. “I do believe we've come to it, then.” And he laughs, almost sardonic, now. “Can't a man say he finds you attractive without a whole world attached to it?” Sighing, he runs his hands through his hair to resettle it. “If we were to… Reveka. What is it you want? One night? A lifetime? I need to know that before i consent to anything.” If there's an anything to consent to at this point — he might have damaged it but good.

Weak as his argument is, Daenerys' next catches Reveka off guard too. “I am not expecting an attachment to anything, in fact I had just got used to the idea that that window of opportunity was closed… or so I thought.” There's still a hint of heated anger to Reveka's tone as she speaks, would he just make up his mind already? As to his line of questioning, well… “If you're afraid I'm in the hunt for a husband or anything that's going to tie me down you'd be dead wrong Daenerys.” Despite the fact that she does like Daenerys, she'd tried the serious relationship thing already and it hadn't worked. “Can't someone just act on instinct and mutual attraction without there being a fine examination of the finer points? Where's your sense of adventure Daen?” And as if proving her Zingari heritage, Reveka is the picture perfect example of a haughty, slightly offended, sparky and spontaneous woman. And she is standing firmly behind her own words, her own coming here being the very epitome of adventurous and spontaneous, after all, a logical her wouldn't have come in raging.

Well, doesn't that just clear up all his worries and doubts. “Can't blame a man for wanting to be sure.” In light of self preservation and all — not to mention that all-too-ingrained sense of honor of his; he'd sooner slit his own throat than harm a woman. “Fine, well, I suppose you can act on instinct and all that if you like, lovely.” He smiles genially at her, taking her tease in good spirits now he knows it's not a trap. “My sense of adventure is tempered by good sense. Forgive my exercising of it.”

Well colour Reveka surprised and just a little unsure now that the anger is fading. Not unsure about what she wants, but unsure about Daen. If she were to act on instinct now, she’d tackle him. There’s no denying she still has an attraction to the man. But what if he turns her down again, despite his offer? This worry flickers across her face as she stares at Mr. Because Cat Daen and tries to decide what to do. Part of her wishes he’d just cross the space and make the choice for them, but she knows that’s a silly want to have when he’s basically left the ball in her court.

Well, now that he’s thoroughly confused the girl, Daenerys will indeed cross the space to take her hand and lift it to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across the knuckles. “So, pretty one? What shall we do?” Clearly, he’s not going to choose for her, not this time, not ever. “Shall we?” Idly, he turns her hand over, nibbles gently at her fingertips. It’s a gentle way of flirting, perhaps — calculated to encourage exploration and maybe the gathering of courage. Cat he is, nose to toes, and apt to shift moods swiftly; but still, he does so like to be admired and desired, much like those sleek, arrogant beasts.

There’s a certain amount of breath that is lost when Daenerys crosses the space between them in all his shirtless glory. Oh my. There’s a zing of energy that flows up her arm when he kisses her knuckles and she has to swallow and breathe before she can nod in answer to him. “I’d like to…” The nibble to her fingertips has her sucking in a sharp breath, tingles exploding and barreling down her nerves and veins.
Maybe barging in had been a better idea than she thought…

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