RVA: The Red Vixen at Sea, Rolas in Denial
Feb. 6th, 2015 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhal“Do you want that anti-nausea patch now?” Rolas asked, as Melanie pushed herself up off the catamaran’s railing, wiping her muzzle clean with a wet washcloth.
“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. Nevertheless she took the sealed packet from him, reading the warnings on the back carefully, before ripping it open and pressing it to the inside of her left ear. It was the most convenient spot if she didn’t want to shave a patch of fur off her pelt.
“You don’t sway in zero-g,” Melanie replied. She looked out over the water, as the drugs settled her stomach. The cat was slicing west through the small chop at what Rolas assured her was a relatively quick ten kilometers an hour. The sun had set a half hour before. Dropping below the horizon with a suddenness that had startled her, reminding her painfully of orbital sunsets she’d viewed from the bridge of the old Scarlet Claw.
“That’s a point,” he agreed. “I didn’t enjoy learning to space walk when I was doing my Service tour. The suits we had to wear always felt terribly claustrophobic, even with the 360 cam projections inside the helmets.”
“I never learned to handle zero-g. I spent my Service years with a forest husbandry team,” Melanie said. “You get a lot of exercise picking up deadfalls during the spring, to lessen the chances of a forest fire.” She glanced sidelong at him. Rolas was sitting beside her, but keeping a slight distance from her side of the bench,his stance not encouraging a private cuddle right now. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask the questions in her mind, but his mention of his Service years was the only opening she’d had since they had left dock. “Speaking of the Service, how did you ever meet that remarkable fellow, Cannonloader?”
“I don’t wish to discuss that,” Rolas said, his tone brooking little argument.
“I wasn’t asking about your sex life, Rolas. I was asking how you met your friend,” Melanie pushed back, glaring at him.
“We were assigned to the same bunk room,” he said, after a pause. “He’s a trained electrical engineer, and we both were assigned to the same maintenance team.”
“You know electronics?” she asked.
“No, but I could learn to run optical cabling through a conduits and set connections,” he said.
“That means you know electronics,” she concluded. “Stop putting yourself down, dear.” She smiled slightly, “So ‘No commitment implied or desired’ is that how you put it, when I asked you about your love life.” Back when Rolas had been her prisoner aboard the Scarlet Claw, a lifetime ago.
“I didn’t say Dack was my lover,” Rolas said tightly.
“No, but if you and he implied it any more firmly, I’d have to use claw polish remover to unglue you two.” Melanie shook her head. “Why are you acting all coy about this? So you’re bisexual. You and between five and seven percent of the of rest of the Foxen population, depending if you count the Blended.”
“I am not bisexual,” he replied, looking like he was fighting to get the growl out of his voice.
“No, you just have sex with males and vixens both,” she said dryly. “Completely different situation.”
Rolas shot up from the bench, turning to glare at her. “Damnit. I knew you’d make a joke out of this.”
“At least I’m talking about it,” she shot back. “Why are you acting as if you should be ashamed of something? I didn’t think I was marrying a blushing virgin, Rolas.”
“I’m not ashamed of it,” he replied, starting to pace in front of her. “It’s just… that part of my life is in the past. It has nothing to do with who I am now.”
“Who you are now? Or who you have to be?” she asked. When he didn’t answer she went on. “How hard were your parents pressuring you, after Salli declared she’d never marry again? Your mother was going to need one of you to produce a grandcub to continue the family line. Once Salli declared herself out of the mating game, the responsibility fell to you.”
“I wasn’t ever pressured,” he said.
“What, no hints every time an unmarried vixen was mated to one of your friends? No expressions of disappointment when a birth announcement went out? I remember how your mother gushed when we announced our intention to marry. She’d been convinced the Darktail name was going to end with her.”
“And now it isn’t,” Rolas finished, cutting off her argument. “Salli and Ali will probably cook up a cub or two between them, and we’ll get started soon ourselves. Mother should have more than enough grandcubs to satisfy her.”
“You didn’t know that Salli would find Alinadar when you married me, Rolas. Did you do it out of love, or because you were trying get a little air to breathe in your mother’s presence?”
Rolas’ expression went from angered to stricken. “Love, Mel. Surely you don’t believe otherwise?”
“I have no doubts, Rolas. I was there when you charged a sniper’s nest, after I was shot.” Melanie rubbed the side of her head briefly, where the gauss needle had grazed her skull. A traitor in the employ of Countess Highglider, mother to Salli’s late, abusive, ex-husband, had been aiming for Salli and Rolas, and has shot her by accident. Melanie had been knocked out by the wound, missing Rolas’ enraged charge. He’d been shot in the arm, before reached the sniper and beating him unconscious with his working hand. Rolas could have died protecting me.
“Thank you,” he said, looking relieved. “Anyway, this has nothing to with my mother. This has everything to do with you and me.”
Not quite, Melanie judged. But she kept her peace for now.
“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. Nevertheless she took the sealed packet from him, reading the warnings on the back carefully, before ripping it open and pressing it to the inside of her left ear. It was the most convenient spot if she didn’t want to shave a patch of fur off her pelt.
“You don’t sway in zero-g,” Melanie replied. She looked out over the water, as the drugs settled her stomach. The cat was slicing west through the small chop at what Rolas assured her was a relatively quick ten kilometers an hour. The sun had set a half hour before. Dropping below the horizon with a suddenness that had startled her, reminding her painfully of orbital sunsets she’d viewed from the bridge of the old Scarlet Claw.
“That’s a point,” he agreed. “I didn’t enjoy learning to space walk when I was doing my Service tour. The suits we had to wear always felt terribly claustrophobic, even with the 360 cam projections inside the helmets.”
“I never learned to handle zero-g. I spent my Service years with a forest husbandry team,” Melanie said. “You get a lot of exercise picking up deadfalls during the spring, to lessen the chances of a forest fire.” She glanced sidelong at him. Rolas was sitting beside her, but keeping a slight distance from her side of the bench,his stance not encouraging a private cuddle right now. Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask the questions in her mind, but his mention of his Service years was the only opening she’d had since they had left dock. “Speaking of the Service, how did you ever meet that remarkable fellow, Cannonloader?”
“I don’t wish to discuss that,” Rolas said, his tone brooking little argument.
“I wasn’t asking about your sex life, Rolas. I was asking how you met your friend,” Melanie pushed back, glaring at him.
“We were assigned to the same bunk room,” he said, after a pause. “He’s a trained electrical engineer, and we both were assigned to the same maintenance team.”
“You know electronics?” she asked.
“No, but I could learn to run optical cabling through a conduits and set connections,” he said.
“That means you know electronics,” she concluded. “Stop putting yourself down, dear.” She smiled slightly, “So ‘No commitment implied or desired’ is that how you put it, when I asked you about your love life.” Back when Rolas had been her prisoner aboard the Scarlet Claw, a lifetime ago.
“I didn’t say Dack was my lover,” Rolas said tightly.
“No, but if you and he implied it any more firmly, I’d have to use claw polish remover to unglue you two.” Melanie shook her head. “Why are you acting all coy about this? So you’re bisexual. You and between five and seven percent of the of rest of the Foxen population, depending if you count the Blended.”
“I am not bisexual,” he replied, looking like he was fighting to get the growl out of his voice.
“No, you just have sex with males and vixens both,” she said dryly. “Completely different situation.”
Rolas shot up from the bench, turning to glare at her. “Damnit. I knew you’d make a joke out of this.”
“At least I’m talking about it,” she shot back. “Why are you acting as if you should be ashamed of something? I didn’t think I was marrying a blushing virgin, Rolas.”
“I’m not ashamed of it,” he replied, starting to pace in front of her. “It’s just… that part of my life is in the past. It has nothing to do with who I am now.”
“Who you are now? Or who you have to be?” she asked. When he didn’t answer she went on. “How hard were your parents pressuring you, after Salli declared she’d never marry again? Your mother was going to need one of you to produce a grandcub to continue the family line. Once Salli declared herself out of the mating game, the responsibility fell to you.”
“I wasn’t ever pressured,” he said.
“What, no hints every time an unmarried vixen was mated to one of your friends? No expressions of disappointment when a birth announcement went out? I remember how your mother gushed when we announced our intention to marry. She’d been convinced the Darktail name was going to end with her.”
“And now it isn’t,” Rolas finished, cutting off her argument. “Salli and Ali will probably cook up a cub or two between them, and we’ll get started soon ourselves. Mother should have more than enough grandcubs to satisfy her.”
“You didn’t know that Salli would find Alinadar when you married me, Rolas. Did you do it out of love, or because you were trying get a little air to breathe in your mother’s presence?”
Rolas’ expression went from angered to stricken. “Love, Mel. Surely you don’t believe otherwise?”
“I have no doubts, Rolas. I was there when you charged a sniper’s nest, after I was shot.” Melanie rubbed the side of her head briefly, where the gauss needle had grazed her skull. A traitor in the employ of Countess Highglider, mother to Salli’s late, abusive, ex-husband, had been aiming for Salli and Rolas, and has shot her by accident. Melanie had been knocked out by the wound, missing Rolas’ enraged charge. He’d been shot in the arm, before reached the sniper and beating him unconscious with his working hand. Rolas could have died protecting me.
“Thank you,” he said, looking relieved. “Anyway, this has nothing to with my mother. This has everything to do with you and me.”
Not quite, Melanie judged. But she kept her peace for now.
