Logs:Always
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| RL Date: 14 September, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Post-flight, there is significant mushiness. |
| Where: Guest Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 10, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: E'dre/Mentions, Ebeny/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Tiriana/Mentions |
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| This isn't like last time. Last time was awkward, last time they had to leave, last time there were explanations to be made. This is anything but awkward; the curve of N'rov's neck, where Shani's buried her face to breathe him in, is as familiar to her as her own, but it matches the way Iesaryth's curled herself around Vhaeryth on the ledge across the bowl, hidden her nose against the warmth of the bronze's own neck. Neither gold nor girl are quite asleep, drifting between consciousness and something less than that. They might even breathe close together -- they do both have a contented sigh near one on top of the other. He, they, can sense that layering of sighs where no one else can; someone else might spot Iesaryth even as curled up together as bronze and gold are, but not her Shani, and not together. N'rov may be more wakeful than the other three put together, his grin the slower for how it goes unseen. He can be patient for a little while longer; he doesn't have to wake her fully. If his next breath is deeper than it needs to be on the off chance that it might do the job anyway, if it does, maybe that too was meant to be. That little shift of his chest, the rise and fall does enough to have her curling closer against him, her arm tightening around him, warm. Shani doesn't lift her head just yet, even if she's been stirred into consciousness -- instead, her lips seek the line of his neck, lazily tracing down that path. Instead, she'll rest her nose against his skin and inhale and exhale before tousled curls are pushed aside to let her look up at him, dark gaze calm and unguarded. His chuckle resonates through his throat to her touch, and then he shifts enough to be able to look down to her better. "We made it," N'rov says half-wonderingly, looking at his girl as though her features should have changed somehow between then and now, only he's recognizing her all over again. He doesn't even kiss her, for once, only looks and looks. For once, Shani doesn't know what to say, just regards him in return -- freeing her hand again to touch fingertips to his cheek, the line of his jaw. Maybe she's looking for something different now that he seems to be, or maybe she just needs to touch him, to let her fingers drift into his curls, as they always will. Dark gaze flickering over his face before meeting his grey, she nods slowly. "I want everything to stop, right now," she whispers. "I want everything to be like this, always." He's got a slow smile for her, slower for all the time they have, this time out of time. N'rov might even have learned his lesson; he doesn't remark on any of the possible eventuallys, from eventually they might like to see their dragons' offspring to something as mundane as eventually they might have to pee. Or perhaps it's not that he's learned his lesson so much as that he's just enjoying seeing her, smiling at her, being there together just that much. "Always," he agrees. She has to smile in return, in a way that makes it obvious it's difficult for her to stop herself. It's wider than Shani'd normally allow, easier than she usually is, even when it's just the two of them. Perhaps it's that simple agreement without all the eventuallys that has her finally bestirring herself to slide up and on top of him, soft and warm. After leaning in for a kiss, she'll even note lightly, "It would be nice to be in my bed, though. That's a mark against it." "I don't suppose your amazing skills include betweening without the benefit of dragons?" N'rov has to wonder. "Although at the moment," with her right there, "I don't find myself wanting to move anywhere at all." It's a good thing E'dre can't see him now; he'd never be able to get away with taunting him about Ebeny ever again. Sadly, "No." Shani does look disappointed about that too, as the bed they're stuck with due to her issues is small, but then it's an excellent excuse for getting so close; it's not such a good excuse for how her hands wander over his broad shoulders, the lines of his chest, but does she need one? Grinning slowly, she's all bright eyes and tousled curls when she tells him, "I hope you might want to move a little." It's a good thing she thinks fast, otherwise she might not be looking so pretty with a black eye. No regrets for that black eye's lack from N'rov; given his smile that's not slow at all, he likes them quite a lot the way they are. "When you put it that way, I might. But when you put it that way, I might want to move a lot." Never mind last flight, and how that went down; never mind the times in the future that Iesaryth will rise and rise again. Just now, they have now, and if the size of this bed winds up as the worst of the challenges... well, that's not bad at all. That didn't take a lot of convincing, but given it rarely ever does (if ever), it's no surprise that there's a lot of moving after Shani pulls him to her for a heated kiss; they might move the bed, but she's certainly not going to notice. Its size isn't such a terrible challenge in the moment, but later, still flushed and faintly breathy, she's eyeing her shirt on the floor like she'd like to know where the rest of her clothes are. "How cold do you think it is?" "Freezing," says the former Southern Boll native, not that he hasn't had time to adjust. N'rov has to first stretch, then twist to follow her line of sight; then he eyes her. "Would you like me to get that for you," he more says than asks, indulgent; then again, it's not like she'd dropped it off the edge of his bed-shelf at Fort. Which might remind him, for he adds, "I'm pretty sure N'muir won't mind if I show up late. Don't know if you noticed, though, but my wingsecond," Weyrsecond, "was there too when she went up. The one who used to live here, remember? I don't know if he'll be peeved or all, 'Go Fort!'" She watches him stretch instead of her shirt; it's not doing anything interesting, and it could be argued that he's not either, but Aishani seems captivated just the same. "Mmm. Maybe. I was just thinking about going to my weyr. And my bed. If we have to sleep." She's not sure about that, despite the fact that it's dark and near-silent -- but then, she's been sleeping quite a bit lately. "I'd hope N'muir won't mind. It's not as if it happens all the time, and he seems to... approve, I suppose. And I did notice. He seemed not too thrilled to be here." Though she doesn't sound like she blames E'dre. "Though why would he be annoyed?" "We could do that." Surely it's not the Walk of Shame when it's two of them! N'rov stretches further, having tipped the rest of the way onto his back, upside-down intent on the secondary prize with reaching, reaching fingers: almost there, if he doesn't fall off the bed first. "It's not like people are going to be lined up and making us run the gauntlet," he pauses long enough to point out. As for E'dre, "Just annoyed about losing. Also, I might have made a habit of yanking his chain, now and again. It's good for him," decides N'rov, as long as he's being insufferable anyway. "But if it's cold..." Shani points out, but without any real force to the argument. While he's stretching, she'll reach out to run a finger along his side, not to tickle, but if it does, so be it. "And I suppose not. Especially not now. It just seems like a long way right now. Maybe less so if I were dressed." Wrinkling her nose for annoyed about losing, "I'd guess it's annoying, but someone has to. And you? Yank chains? I can't believe such a thing. I demand proof." Her tone is dry. Immediately upon such interference, N'rov levers back up just enough to give his girl an admonitory look and, "That behavior is not conducive to getting your shirt back, young lady." Once he's back to 'work,' "Just you wait, you disbeliever, you heretic of science. Next thing I know, you'll be prosing over mathematical tomes in a skirt that covers your ankles." Giving a pout, Shani is wide-eyed and-- well, as close to innocent as she can get, right now or in general. Combing through her curls with her fingers in an effort to make them presentable, or enough so for a quick walk in the dark, "I don't want you to find your shirt about nine times out of ten, but you don't hear me complaining." Except today. With an arch of fine brows, "Since when is your need to infuriate everyone scientific? You're lucky some people find it charming." Some people in that bed, in case that's not clear. That bit of a tickle may not have made him fall off the bed, but laughing does. Then it's laughing interspersed with profane reports about just how cold it is. At least N'rov's recovered her shirt, now, and with it he kneels next to the bed so as to lean over its edge and look at her. Not that he actually gives her that shirt that happens to belong to her, yet, but he does tell her, "I am lucky." His voice is, for once, serious. She's fairly delighted by him falling out of the bed, perhaps more so by the complaining, dark eyes alight again as she leans over to that side of the bed just as he kneels there. Her smile doesn't so much fade as soften, and instead of her shirt, she reaches out for his cheek, resting her hand there. "You and me both," she murmurs softly. "Will they let you come back, stay? Are you really mine, for now?" For now, but still. Hers. "I hope so." N'rov can be fervent about it, here and now, and doesn't even try not to show it; it's a long way from N'muir, much less the rest of his wing. It's longer from the days baking on the sands or in the galleries, watching Vhaeryth watch eggs that, sadly for both him and Iesaryth, still manage not to move. "I'll convince him. Them," he adds for Ebeny. "We'll stay. We have the right," even if his rights are what his Weyrleader permits. It's not like last time. "I still have to talk to Hattie about some things." It's vague, but maybe it's not all that interesting. The thought, however, has Aishani looking a bit awkward. "She... well. Maybe it won't take all that much convincing." Her hand slips from his face to her shirt, pulling him in and leaning over for a slow kiss before, "Let's go to the proper bed and get some sleep, then. Either way, it's a long day tomorrow." After all, even if there's not much convincing to be done at Fort, High Reaches might be another story. And Aishani stabbed a guy, so obviously people will be thrilled with being searched for her dragon's clutch. Not Tiriana, indeed. |
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