Logs:Afternoon Delight
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| RL Date: 3 January, 2016 |
| Who: A'sran, Dahlia |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: The slightly awkward first meeting after the flight turns out better than alright in the end. |
| Where: Records Room, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 21, Month 9, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Lilah/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions |
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>---< Records Room, Fort Weyr >----------------------------------------------<
Dual entrances provide access to the Weyr's Records Room: the great doors
that open out onto a short tunnel to the Bowl and a twisting set of stairs
that descends from the Weyrleaders' Complex. Within the room itself rows
of stone shelving are carved out of the walls and supplemented by
freestanding shelving of dark, polished wood arranged in neat, well-lit
aisles. Bright tapestries depicting scenes from around the Fort region
decorate the walls, each with a glow basket in a sconce immediately above
to provide light by which to see the details and to leaven the gloom that
would otherwise permeate the chamber. Underfoot, a richly woven carpet in
shades of pale cream to rich klah brown evoke in abstract, the colors of
the Weyr, while a subtle patterning at its center replicates the
fortification that is Fort's hallmark symbol. Even without seeing the
contents of those shelves, one would know the purpose of the room, given
the perpetual aroma of hides, scrolls, paper, books and ink.
A few small alcoves have been carved out of the stone and filled with
desks and chairs, providing relatively quiet places for those using the
records room to work without being disturbed. Immediately before the doors
that lead out to the Bowl, several long tables are arranged to provide
larger, communal workspaces. Scribes can find writing implements, ink,
paper, and other tools of the trade in a couple of discreetly located
cabinets behind the duty desk. This cabinet and the outer doors are
typically kept locked when no recordskeeper is on duty.
-----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
A'sran M 27 6'1 athletic, red-blonde hair, blue eyes 1m
Dahlia F 19 5'9" sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes 0s The Records Room is a place Dahlia is often found at work and underfoot, literally. Today is not much different than other days. Because she's not in active meeting with anyone, she's staked a claim on some section of the richly woven carpet, sitting cross-legged on the floor, shoes shucked and tucked against the wall where they're unlikely to be a tripping hazard (since Dahlia and her hides are already such a large one). At least, by now, she's a fairly known tripping hazard. She must be near done whatever project is underway though because she's shuffling the papers around her into some kind of order, mumbling to herself as she does. The rare sight of A'sran, bundle of tidy hides and scrolls under his arm, in the records room is purely a coincidence. He ducks his head as he enters and saunters immediately to the scribe on duty, but does not spare a scrutiny of his surroundings until he has given her a smile and passed along his returned materials. Leaning with his hip against the desk, his blue eyes roam over the walls -- because this is a place he does not frequent.. barely, if at all -- and shelving, and pause when they find the junior weyrwoman amidst her papers on the floor. "Thank you," he tells the scribe, before pushing away from the counter. "Dahlia." His voice is warm and filled with laughter, his mouth already stretching into a grin. It's possible Dahlia hasn't had cause to feel embarrassed about her quirky work habits since she was caught as a candidate indulging in this very practice, but with A'sran's greeting, a touch of blush comes to her cheeks. "Oh," is surprised, then warmly, "hi. Just-- one second--" The sorting goes into double-time. It's not one second, but it's not more than thirty before she seems to have things piled in a satisfactory way and she's moving rise as gracefully as a dancer might, papers in arm and floor now relatively clear. She looks at A'sran a moment as though she doesn't quite know what to say now and that blush deepens, but then her smile breaks, the sort that says she's laughing at herself just a little on the inside, "How are you?" Amused blue eyes track her movements, and at least once he shifts to offer her a hand to pull herself up with from the carpet; however, he does not appear irritated that she chooses to rise unassisted. "I am well." A'sran studies her face without losing his smile, and if anything it widens, creating a dimple in one cheek. "How are you? How is Taeliyth? Leczuth tells me that all is well, but his sense of well-being is much divided from mine at times." "Good," is quick and easy for his wellness. "I'm good, well. Well, good." It's possible that this bronzerider flusters her just a little given the struggle with words and the babble that follows a quick look down and the return of her laughing-at-herself smile that lingers as she looks back up. "Taeliyth is good. Starting to forget the details of the flight, but still certain she chose the best. She's not pleased by the prospect of how many dragonhealer visits they want us to schedule, but I think there's some particular concerns given her lineage for this clutch to be healthy and well." That could mean Taeliyth's being Eliyaveith's daughter or just the last Fortian queen in Fort. "I was actually going to find you to ask if you and Leczuth would like to go to those with us. They make me nervous every time even if every time Taeliyth is sure everything is fine and that the appointment is unnecessary." There's a fond smile for her lifemate there. There is a good chance that there is a proverb somewhere that notes: a wise man does not point out the obvious to a woman.. if he wants to remain in her good graces (and keep his teeth). A'sran, notably, does not remark on the goldrider's flustered state, but finds the books to the right of her shoulder incredibly interesting of a sudden. "Leczuth would agree," he replies wryly. "If that is what you wish, we would be happy to accompany you. It would give Leczuth no small amount of pleasure and I.. do not want you to be needlessly nervous over a dragonhealing visit. Tell us when to be there, and I am sure we can change our schedule to accommodate." Despite A'sran's lack of comment, Dahlia looks, briefly, abashed. "Thank you, yes. I feel pretty unsure of how this is all supposed to go, if there even is a 'supposed to.' Mirinda told me she envied me the lack of proddiness even if it's strange. The dragonhealers say it happens sometimes, though not-- often." She reaches up a hand to tuck hair behind her ear. "So if you notice me doing something poorly, please tell me? I'd rather fix it sooner over later." There's a little bit of an awkward pause, "Would you have time to walk me to my weyr after I return these?" "You do not have to be perfect at everything you do," A'sran replies, grinning a wide, lopsided grin. "You could ask a hundred goldriders the same question and get a hundred different answers." That seems to be the extent of his advice, as he buries his hands his jacket pockets and shrugs his shoulders upward in a way that bunches up the wherhide. "I am not worried." Beat. "But I will never willfully tell you any of your flaws," is his amused admission, his eyes searching her face. "I have time now." After he turns and takes a backwards step, he presents his arm to Dahlia. "Shall we?" "Well, perfect is a pretty lofty goal," Dahlia agrees as if this is what A'sran meant. "I'd settle for 'not embarrassing' or 'good enough' most times." She gives him a thoughtful look, before saying, "You'd be a better friend to me if you did, you know. But I'm not sure if that's what we are. Friends. I'm not entirely sure how I should be acting around you." That might be horribly awkward to admit, really, only she then lifts the papers to indicate she'll take care of them, letting whatever awkward there might be hopefully evaporate while she steps over to the counter and leaves brief instructions for them, smile warm for the person at the desk. It doesn't take long before she's back and will take that arm, if he's still willing to offer it. The glance that A'sran gives Dahlia is full of warmth, unmistakable in the ease of his smile. His reply will have to wait, until after she has deposited those papers back with the scribes at the duty desk. He drops his arm back to his side during that time and meanders closer to one of the shelves, bending forward to squint at the titles written on the spines of the books there. When she returns, his relaxed posture and grin returns, and the arm is offered once more. "Would you like it if we were friends?" "Yes," Dahlia answers with a smile of her own, her fingers settling lightly on his arm. "If we were, I might even be able to stop being so nervous I'm going to do or say something stupid." She looks up at him, head slightly canted, "I hope you know that it's not every attractive man that makes me feel like I'm a witless teenage girl with a crush." Well, she is a teenager, if not witless and 'girl' might be a stretch for most at this late-teen age. A'sran leads the way through the records room and out to the weyrleaders' complex, his footsteps sure and his head slightly bent to take in everything the goldrider says. "Are you extremely worried?" he queries, his eyes flicking from the path in front of them to her face. "I am not that easily put off. In fact, you will have problems shaking me, when it comes to it." He stops on the ledge leading into her weyr, giving her the opportunity to take the lead, since it is her home and not his. "Did noone warn you not to compliment me overmuch? It will only inflate my head," is mock serious, and thrown by his mischievous smile. "You and N'rov both," Dahlia's flippancy probably only comes so easily because she's pairing the man with one of her existing friends. "Or maybe it's just most bronzeriders." That's teasing though the smile she gives him comes with a speculative look. "Maybe not 'extremely,' but enough. It's sort of an awkward way to begin. One day we're talking about going to gathers. Time goes by and we've slept together and I'd like to spend more time with you, but I've no way to know if that's-- and then a goldrider worries that you feel an obligation to humor me and--" See the hole she can mentally spiral down? She gives a wry if helpless sort of smile. "Maybe just tell me what you'd be interested in and tell me it's alright to be a little silly about my worries, sometimes?" "N'rov is a great man. I am flattered you would compare me to him." A'sran looks incredibly amused that she compares him to their weyrleader. "Dahlia," he says, gently, turning to face her and settle one hand on her shoulder, "I am not a man with that type of ambition. I do not hunger for N'rov's knot. Using goldriders are stepping stones to my goals is ruthless, and I am not that." He gives her shoulder under his fingers a squeeze at the same time his lopsided smile returns. "I enjoy you for your company. You can be as silly and worried as you want, as long as you do not give it any real meaning." "If you let him hear you say that, I'm going to be deflating his head for the next month at least," she quips back before she's turned to face him. Hazel eyes are a little wide at first, but her expression relaxes as he speaks. Dee has a smile for him, "That sounds easy then." Still she has to ask, "No real meaning even to friendship?" It's not off the table by the tone, just a request for clarification. A'sran relinquishes his hold her shoulder and bestows a bemused smile on the weyrwoman. "I meant for not to put faith in any of your worries where I am concerned. I remain your most devoted friend," he assures, stepping backwards towards her weyr with a half-bow that is most assuredly mocking in the well-meaning sense. The bronzerider's correction and bow has Dee laughing, leaving her with the warmest of smiles for the bronzerider, whose hand she reaches for. "Devoted friends are allowed afternoon delights, aren't they? It's been a while since I've had a devoted friend, you may have to remind me how these things work." Her look turns impish, but not wholly confident. If the pull toward not just her weyr but her inner weyr is accepted, future offers will never be so timid. The tug on his hand doesn't meet resistance, as the bronzerider's pursuit is immediate and on her heels as she brings them within her weyr. "I told you, Dahlia. You can do whatever you want," he replies, with an unrepentant grin. "Afternoon delight, morning wake up calls, nightcaps." A'sran is having too much fun counting off the ways on his fingers; fingers that quickly find the goldrider's waist to be more demonstrative where his words were not. A'sran probably doesn't realize what a big deal it is to have Dahlia laughing so easily, to have her setting aside her worries and cares to share these smiles with the bronzerider. She laughs, until his hands find her hips and she has better things to do with her lips. Afternoon delights, morning wake up calls, nightcaps, indeed. |
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