Logs:End of Turn 31
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| RL Date: 16 June, 2013 |
| Who: Aishani, N'rov |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Aishani's been working on something for N'rov; they meet up for Turnover so she can show him. |
| Where: Southern Weyr/Southern Continent |
| When: Day 28, Month 13, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Hattie/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Shani's dress: [1], [2] |
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| End of Turn can't come soon enough -- not the best of Turns, nor even the best of winters for some, so a new start might sound attractive... as might a big old party, which most everyone is having this clear night. Though it's chill evening in Northern climes, Aishani has escaped those in favor of the South for now, where there's no need to cover her stunning silvery gown, its arcs of flat beading catching light from the fires and torches that illuminate the party by the beach. Dark glossy waves are tied back into a neat twist at the nape of her neck to expose the open back of the dress; quick fingers tuck a stray curl behind her ear as she listens politely and attentively to the man who seems to be talking at her more than to her, as the drink in her hand rapidly disappears. That's the main thing that might indicate some little boredom -- though there's also the way her gaze flickers around now and then, impatient... but then, she could be looking for someone. By the water, Iesaryth is likewise watchful, though more at ease, one of many dragons lining the sandy shore -- but certainly one of the more noticeable amongst them, by size and shade both. It wouldn't be the first time that N'rov's tried to sneak around and surprise her, but with everything that's been going on, there's no time. Not to mention the responsibilities awaiting him back at Fort Weyr. Vhaeryth had started out in a hurry to get going, to get to Southern and then get home, but now that he's let off his rider and meandered off towards the shore with the smugness that only a proper sire can boast, there's a certain 'out of sight, out of nattering into his rider's mind every sharding moment' that has N'rov looking a little less headache-haunted. Plus, there's Shani who's just come into his view, and the bronzerider stops to watch her for a moment in the firelight... before abandoning her for awhile longer. He'd better have a good reason. When he does join her, it's with a second drink in hand that he proffers to the acting Weyrwoman, but whether he's forgiven is for her to decide. The other man, though, he just gets a smirk. No time, but no matter to her, by the way her gaze finally finds him and follows for a time, caught long enough to nearly be distracted by too-fascinating conversation. When Aishani looks back to the man she's talking to, some rider from some southern Weyr or another, she has something near an apologetic smile, as if she actually cares. She likely notices N'rov's regard, but doesn't watch him watching her -- if anything, she's sure to strike a finer profile in the dim light. If he's going to look, she'll make it worth his while. And if he's going to abandon her for even that short time, he'd best make it worth hers... so the drink is a good thing, particularly given, as she shows the bronzerider with a lift of her glass, hers is now empty. "Look at that. Your timing." To the other man, with a lovely smile, "My ride is here. Excuse me." That makes no sense, but apparently? She's not really bothered at this point. As she winds an arm through N'rov's and abandons the empty glass, he gets an eyeroll. "Excellent, even if I do say so myself." As N'rov escorts Shani off, he could be ignoring the eyeroll if it weren't for how he then broadens his smirk to include her, as though maybe she feels left out. "I asked them to make it strong." The drink. More importantly, "Your ride? Do tell. And yes, I like the back on that dress." He guides them between the clusters of people, the better to not get intercepted for too long by any one, though there are those here and there who know them by now and want to talk. The rider left in their wake does seem somewhat bemused by Aishani's excuse, but if they're not paying attention, what does it matter? "You would say so either way." But she's grateful for the drink, even if she asks, with a sidelong glance and a slow smile, "Trying to take advantage of me?" As if that would be a difficulty, even without alcohol. "And that was just the first thing that came to mind. Not the most graceful exit, but he was rather dull. I'm glad about the dress, though -- I thought you might be disappointed with the length. What do you like about it?" She sips at the drink, giving the odd person an apologetic smile as they pass; sorry, on the way out, can't stop or all will be lost. "As long as I can back it up," N'rov's shrug carries unconcern along with it. Or rather, unconcern with that, and considerably more interest in, "Always, and there's more where that came from." As for the dress, "I'll survive the length this time, because again, that back. I like that I get to see yours, but you knew that." He gives passersby a more unapologetic version of her smile, though a younger-looking couple actually gets a second glance before he turns more sharply away. "Am I taking you anywhere in particular?" "This time," Shani echoes dryly, amused at the caveat. Unwinding her arm from his, it's only to take a moment to step ahead and show off the back of the gown while glancing over her shoulder, just in case he hadn't gotten a close enough look. With a grin, once they get moving again, she leans in to murmur, "I've been waiting all night for you to do more than see." A beat before, "You smell nice. You look good too." In case he didn't know that. Following his gaze briefly, fine brows coming together, "To the dragons, the beach. We have somewhere to be." As long as she's unwound her arm, as long as she's showing herself off, when she returns to him N'rov puts his hand on Shani's back to guide her that way. "Good," he says definitively, the smallest of his fingers slipping beneath the silvery fabric of her dress. "If it's to be somewhere other than candidate barracks, we'd better hurry." He won't delay, but he will wait for her should she need it, and plan to take off quickly from there. Is her shiver for his touch gratifying? Shani's not above such theatrics, but it's all too genuine, as is the short, soft intake of breath when that one finger slips low. "I'll have you home in time for your curfew," she sighs, resigned, but voice warmed with laughter beneath. There's nothing she needs to make him wait for -- maybe Iesaryth is relaying her goodbyes, Iesaryth who's been pleased for Vhaeryth's company despite all the smugness, who's now sparkly-bright with excitement for going and seeing what they've been doing, as they finally make it down to the sand. Well. Mostly her rider, but she does lifting and carrying and... she shouldn't say more. It always is. They always are. "Be sure to tell Mother Hattie that I was a good boy, too," N'rov says, but less dryly than usual. He doesn't say more for the rest of the walk, only looks up at the stars and then at Shani again, smiling. Vhaeryth wouldn't say that Iesaryth shouldn't say more, but now that their riders have reached her, he borrows some of those sparkles to highlight how N'rov's taking the opportunity to try some lifting and carrying of his own. Not that it should be arduous, lifting Shani in that dress that much higher towards Iesaryth's neck; a dragon can hope her 'chores' were nearly as fun. "Lies," Shani whispers, but then, those have never really been an issue for her. The stars and N'rov's smile both might be enough to distract her were they not on a mission of great importance, so she limits herself to a brief kiss before he lifts her to perch carefully atop Iesaryth, drink finished and glass abandoned somewhere in the sand. Terrible guest. The gold has to lean low so her rider can mount up in that long gown, but she appreciates the accentuation; when she can arrange herself properly, the pair are that much brighter in the light from the moons. Sunlight on water is there in both more sparkling for Vhaeryth, and in the wings she spreads wide before lifting off the beach and into the night air, angling westward. « It was fun to find. » More so now for him to see. Maybe N'rov's glass wound up in the same place. The bronzerider is quicker to mount up, his own old 'Weyrwoman' dress an old memory, and Vhaeryth puts on a burst of speed to catch up with Iesaryth and her sparkles. « Did you look long? » He's looking from left to right and back again, waiting for the image to between... even if they don't. They don't have to between if they don't want to -- Iesaryth would probably rather fly along the darkened shoreline forever, just to look and see what's there, to be close to the constant tide -- but she's a little dulled for being convinced to speed up the process, if only this time. The picture floated to Vhaeryth on the waves can't be the exact place, but both nearby and easily imaged vividly, even shaded for night: a wide bay that opens up along the ocean's shore with high cliffs crawling with vegetation, the mouth of a river that flows from it into the vast jungle. « It seemed long. She is awfully particular. » No irony in that, and then she's headed there. Vhaeryth would fly along the shoreline too, if not forever; this image will do, though, as long as that vegetation doesn't seem too apt to eat him. Once they're warm again, « Is she ever not particular? » It may not be so realistic a question, but if anyone would know, Iesaryth would. « 'The one who waits till tomorrow, misses the opportunities of today.' » Once they're warm again and there's no harm in it, the vegetation in the gold's image might reach out for Vhaeryth to try and get him, for all that it's dreadfully dull in reality, just sitting there. Iesaryth dips low to skim the surface of the wide river, which is likely not going over well considering how her rider is dressed, but these things happen. « Good question, » she notes then, coincidentally. Smaller streams and tributaries branch off, and eventually she banks with a tilt of wings to follow one that snakes off to the west: difficult to see from the ground due to the tangle of brush, but easy enough from the air. Eventually, a short line of tiny lights come into view, climbing a gentle hill on the riverbank ahead, perhaps set out to make dragon landings easier. The queen is quick to head in that direction, bubbly excitement near-palpable, buoyed by her rider's own anticipation. Vhaeryth plays along, aiming to dodge in the physical plane the vines that creep and writhe in the mental one, and of course if she's skimming the water then he has to, too. Tiny lights? « Are those always there? » Has she trained glows, or something else, to her will? « I will guess not, otherwise we could have betweened to them, unless it is that you wanted to show us the river also. » Iesaryth might flick her tail to splash while they're skimming, since the vines aren't so clever that they do more than grab at the air around Vhaeryth. He's obviously too quick for the likes of them. « No, not always. But we like the river. How it's hidden. » Unsurprisingly. Just in case someone happens by on a boat some century. She's excited enough now to put on a little burst of speed, homing in on the line of lights -- yes, glowbaskets -- to land neatly at the top of the hill. Though there's nothing to illuminate the grassy meadow but for those glows, the waxing and waning moons above provide enough to see, especially after flying in the dark. Up the slight slope from the stony riverbank, there's a copse of trees that shade a small trader's wagon from the moonlight. It's not exactly in the best of repair, with rusting tin covering the roof, but there's obviously been some recent work done on it -- a fresh coat of green paint, oiling and cleaning. The steps are lowered and doors swung wide to the warm air, soft light spilling out. It's a wagon, Vhaeryth's seen those before. It takes a mental poke from his admiring rider to make him appreciative enough to say « A wagon! » like he's impressed too. Though N'rov waits until the bronze has landed a short distance from the wagon, far enough to not endanger it with a stray wingbeat or make the ground shake enough to send it into the river, and until he's dismounted to say, "You did this yourself?" Iesaryth is patiently amused by Vhaeryth's lack of interest in the wagon, though she'll note that she had to carry it and be careful about it and nose it around, and that's more work than the queen likes to do in a day, really. « I thought you might like the grass and the view more. » Though it's hard to see in the dark for humans, it's easier for dragons to look out from the top of the hill to see the darkened ocean in the distance, though close enough that the sea breeze carries up now and then, faintly briny. Shani's headstart is essentially eaten by dismounting in her dress, but once she's gotten herself to the ground without any incidents, "I didn't build it. I suppose I borrowed it. But the rest..." She trails off, glancing down and away, awkward for it. Vhaeryth doesn't exactly want to do that much work either, though he does crane his neck over the top of the thing like he's eyeing it for talon-holds. He could move it now, even, if she wants! On the other hand, now that she mentions it, Vhaeryth also allows that he does like the grass and the view particularly, so he wouldn't move a thing. (Not unless she, or someone, asked nicely. Or he got bored.) "It looks like it's in great shape," his unwitting rider says, looking back at the wagon's borrower. "Now, anyway," and he touches a careful finger to that paint to see just how fresh it is. It doesn't look like it's terribly easy for a dragon to hold on to without scraping it up, but it got here and Iesaryth is not inclined to fetch and/or carry, so it mustn't have been that difficult. Not so difficult that she won't point out, « We can move it to other places. » But not right now. She has a sense that, even if they found a better place, some people might be against it tonight. The paint isn't wet, but it's recently done, enough that it's likely Shani did that herself as well. "It wasn't... well. It didn't look that great, but. The inside could probably use some work, and I don't know how long it'll last, but..." A little shrug. Reaching out to catch his hand in hers, "I thought you might like it." Perhaps some of the new paint covers up some of those scrapes? « Later. » Meanwhile, there is grass to roll in, like a weyrling. Now that Vhaeryth-ignoring N'rov has Aishani's hand, "It looks great," he says to her with a slow grin, the whole thing now and not just the shape it's in, and reaches to lift her past those steps to the glowing doorway. After a moment to appreciate her backlit like that, "Let's go see the rest." Perhaps, there might be a talon mark or two; hopefully there won't be leaks when there's rainstorms, but that's nothing to worry about now. While Iesaryth doesn't roll in the grass, she does lie in it on her side, all too pleased for Vhaeryth's rolling, as if she'd known he would get to that eventually, if he approved. Shani's caught by that grin, mirroring it with bright eyes before he lifts her again, leaving her a little breathless. She's not interested in the rest so much as N'rov and his reaction to it, though his admiration... or her anticipation... has her flushed beneath sun-warmed skin. On the inside, it's all rather decrepit wood cabinets and panelling, in need of refinishing. There's a bench seat built into either side of the wagon, to allow for conversation -- though there's no cushions to be had on either -- and in the very back, a raised platform bed. That's already been made up, imagine that. She might ask if he likes it, if she weren't holding her breath. Just a little. After N'rov's got not only a good look at the place but a good look at Shani, he leans in to kiss her. "Count on you to fix the important parts," he says, making sure he's looking right into those dark eyes when he does. "You're not going to kick this into the river tomorrow morning or anything, are you? Because I'm pretty sure we'll want to stay here a lot longer than we have time." Her eyes are still alight, but her gaze is near gentle for all it's often so hard, though not for him-- and certainly not while he's holding her, kissing her. Shani likes it enough to draw it out, kiss him again, brush her nose against his as she answers, "I didn't think it was worth taking chances." As if there'd be a time short of an emergency where at least blankets might be important. The question draws forth a smile and a slow shake of her head. "This is for you. For us. To stay at a lot longer, when there's time. It doesn't move again without your okay." A pause, as she carefully undoes the top button of his shirt, eyes intent on it. "That's not to say I won't try to convince you if it comes to that." "To move it?" N'rov inquires as to the direction of his girl's convincing, his baritone voice less deadpan than wicked.Then he kisses her again, and since he doesn't seem to have picked her up enough today, "Let's see just how good you are with my buttons now." "To move it where I want it moved." Though it's neither of them that'll do the moving, so does it matter? Shani's intent on those buttons, even if she's distracted by being swept up again. Kisses don't even still her fingers, though they might slow them; all she needs is to be able to slide her hand into his shirt, along his skin. "I've had a lot of practice," all false apology, "With you and your buttons." Since they don't have all night, she'll have to show him quickly. |
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