Logs:A'sran's Excellent Turnday Gift
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| RL Date: 2 January, 2016 |
| Who: A'sran, Dahlia |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Post-flight, A'sran gives Dahlia a wonderful gift: understanding. (And sex.) |
| Where: Dahlia and Taeliyth's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 17, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: R'oan/Mentions |
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>---< Dahlia and Taeliyth's Weyr, Fort Weyr(#1064RJs$) >---------------------<
In a time long past, this spacious and well appointed weyr belonged to the
legendary Moreta. Though the time of legend is past, it still serves its
purpose. The first room is a lopsided cavern that would be longer than it
was wide were it not for the bulge that provides space for the be-pillowed
dragon wallow. On the long side of this area is set a trio of finely
furnished comfortable chairs, two fine chaise lounges and a short round
table that must be meant for entertaining company. Hung on the wall
opposite the dragon couch is a fine tapestry, though it doesn't fill the
length of the space, depicting dragonriders meeting Thread over a Hold.
Farther back there's a square table with accompanying chairs for taking
meals beside a small hearth. The walls here are plain stone with glows
hung at even intervals.
A rich tapestry covers the person-sized entrance to the tip-tilted oblong
sleeping room at the rear of the weyr. The room houses a bed broad enough
to be comfortable for two with sinfully soft pink sheets and a grey
blanket covering. The decorations and small hearth here are homey with a
tropical bent. The furniture doesn't quite fit the theme, being more
elegant and finely upholstered than what would be found in a Southern
bungalow. The oddest part of this private space is that one side of the
sleeping chamber has looks like a construction zone, with piles of
reclaimed wood, tools and other odds and ends.
At the far end of the sleeping room another curtained arch leads to a
small bathing room with a hot spring and the necessary shelves, hooks and
cabinets to contain items for personal care.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
A'sran M 27 6'1 athletic, red-blonde hair, blue eyes 2m
Dahlia F 19 5'9" sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes 0s The flight was long and what comes after the catch is so as well. Taeliyth's passions run freely in her enjoyment with and of Leczuth and that translates directly to Dahlia's echoed pleasure with A'sran. Exhausted by the intensity of what has come before, Dahlia sleeps and sleeps well, tucked against the gentleman for some hours before she stirs enough to make sense of the warm body in bed beside her. Within moments her body stiffens and her breath draws shallowly. The gentleman in question sleeps soundlessly next to Dahlia, his red-blonde curls mussed against the pillow cases and his face far too content even in sleep. He would stay that way for much longer, his mouth occasionally tugging up in a dream-induced smile, if it were not for the goldrider's stirring.. and stiffening.. which spurs him to semi-alertness. "Hello," groggily, pleased. A'sran smiles with his eyes closed, tossing his head from side to side. "Sleep well?" he asks in seemingly genuine concern, fingers grazing Dahlia's back in a caressing movement. Dahlia's eyes close and shallow breaths slowly manage to lengthen and deepen, the goldrider making an active, silent effort to will those muscles to unlock. "Yes," she manages, if quietly. "Very well," some moments later, though her voice quavers. "And you?" It's not an empty question - she worries - but it is distracted. It must be the quavering voice that first alerts A'sran that anything is amiss at all. "Dahlia?" he queries, his eyes opening, worry evident in their blue depths. "Are you alright? Did I.. should I excuse myself?" He is politeness down to the letter, giving her the opportunity to banish him in favor of being alone should she wish it, and yet.. he still worries, considering what recently transpired. Dahlia reaches a hand to press flat against A'sran's stomach, gently encouraging him not to get up and go. "No, but no," she's not, but he shouldn't. It's slowly that she sits up, gingerly, and there are tears just at the corners of her eyes that she reaches up with a hand to brush them away. "It's not you. You're--" she stops, a surprised sort of smile setting on her lips, "You're wonderful," she means it, in the simplest way. "That-- was wonderful." The flight. "I just haven't been with anyone since I lost someone in the plague." The words come haltingly, her expression briefly pained, but she manages, perhaps needing to explain so that the bronzerider can be reassured that it really, truly is not anything wrong with what's just transpired. "Dahlia." A'sran begins to struggle onto his elbows, but stays lying back on the pillows when she presses him down. His blue eyes have no left her face since they opened, and as she cries, speaks, they do not falter in their intensity. Knuckles grazing her arm, in a reassuring gesture, he says, "The plague took many great people and loved ones." He does not say if he lost anyone, but there is empathy in his slow-spoken words. "You are welcome to pour your heart out to me or tell me to shut up. We can finish the bottle you started or you can kick me out and I will pretend it never happened. I hear I am a good listener," he says, offering a gentle smile in light of her emotions. Dahlia considers him with a small smile coming to her lips. "It's very good of you to offer." This might initially sound like a 'no, thanks,' only as she shifts to lay down beside him, against him again, reaching to hook fingers into the grey throw and draw it up over them, she starts talking, so it must have been that she was recognizing that not all men in this position would. "There's not so much to say, I think. A lot to feel. While we were dying, I promised him a life together. I named our children that will never be. I dreamed everything that could be one day and then he went between. And I miss him. It's been-- too painful to think about this with anyone when no one else would be him." The words are punctuated with small pauses, moments for her to gather her next, to not cry, not now. "I'm finding," she murmurs, "that I don't need you to be him. I don't even want you to be. I'm glad you're you and that we had this. You don't have to pretend it never happened." A pause and then slightly more rushed, "And you don't have to worry that I'll be clingy or--" She seeks to press her face against his shoulder, hiding her embarrassment. "I'm sorry, it's my first flight," and she doesn't know if she'd doing any of this alright. Any surprise that A'sran has at her acceptance of his offer he is wise not to let show. Instead, he helps situate that blanket and tucks a supporting arm under her head, and then he listens, letting her vent her frustrations without judgement. He exhales softly at the end, turning his head to stare musingly at the top of her head, tucked as it is against his shoulder. "You can be however you need to be. First flights are the hardest it has been proven. My first flight that we won," he replies, with humor in his voice, "was a green flight, and to my surprise the rider a male. I was not a virgin then, but it was hardly something I was prepared for. I can understand your concerns." He taps a finger against her side, his free arm tucking behind his own head as his gaze gravitates towards the ceiling. "It is not easy to say goodbye to people you love and it is harder to move on. You can cry, if you need to." "I cry a lot when no one's looking," Dahlia admits as she moves her head to press her cheek to his chest again, more comfortably. "I'd rather not now. I don't always get a choice about that, but seems like I do just now. Thank you though." She tentatively moves a hand to touch his chest, turning her chin up toward him with a questioning look: is it alright to touch him that way? "I think if you'd been a woman, I wouldn't have been prepared for that. I can imagine that was-- quite a first." It's with a musing curiosity of her own that she asks, "Are you always so understanding?" "Why do you feel you have to cry in private? I do not think anyone will begrudge you crying, not with everything that has happened lately." A'sran's eyes make the roundabout journey back to Dahlia, and he flashes her one of his trademark smiles. "You can do what you want to do," he reassures her, not even trying to resist the urge to tip her chin up with his fingers. "A woman? That is not quite as scary is it? I have often heard it said that women are the only ones who know how to please each other properly." His lips only twitch slightly, and his fingers, unoccupied now, brush hair away from her face. "I am, though my mother takes the credit for that." Dahlia smiles in the wake of his fingers finding his chin, even laughing just a little at his question. She shifts, getting more comfortable, moving an arm to prop herself up a little so she can look down at him before the hand on his chest begins moving lightly, tentatively and then more surely. "That may be so but I can't say I've ever had the inclination to find out, even growing up in a Weyr. Perhaps my next flight I'll find out just how wrong I am," the thought seems to amuse her at any rate. "This suits me well, now." And with a little hesitation, she tips her head down with the intent to press her lips lightly to his, leaning back enough to murmur, "It's sometimes hard to be weak before the same people for whom you must be strong." She doesn't seem to want to linger on the topic of tears though, seeking a second kiss, more distracting than the last. Humor shines in his eyes and his smile widens when she readjusts to look down at him, but he has no intentions of moving now, not when they have gotten comfortable. "I find there is more fear of the thought of it happening and less when it actually happens. It is sex. It is not half as terrible as all that," he declares, distractedly. Far more interesting is delicate skin on the inside of her arm, which his fingers graze right before.. no, he does not recoil from the kiss, and meets her hesitancy with warmth. "The trick," he murmurs against her mouth, "is to smile when you feel sad, if you must. It becomes a habit." "I'm getting better every day but I suspect I could learn a thing or two from you," Dahlia murmurs just as quiet. There's another kiss, soft and inviting. And another. And another. Then she moves to slide one leg over his hips. "Would you indulge me again, A'sran?" She must feel that it's not a request likely to be turned down given her boldness. "It's my turnday," she adds with a teasing sort of smile, "if you wanted to get me something nice." Her hips shift a little: that. "You have time," A'sran insists, but not.. insistently. It is entirely impossible to concentrate on the goldrider's skill at hiding her emotions, or lack of said skill, when she keeps kissing him like that. "Your turnday," he echoes her, wonder in his voice. "I had no idea. Happy turnday, Dahlia." Returning her smile with one that is part amused, part fondness, his hands slide slowly up her legs and settle on her hips, gripping with some resolve. "If that is what the lady wants, I cannot say no," is his answer. |
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