Logs:Foreign Flight
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| RL Date: 1 April, 2015 |
| Who: Euphemia, X'vae, Zezkaith, Izazeth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Izazeth catches a foreign green. What happens in the flight weyr stays in the flight weyr? |
| Where: Flight Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 6, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: C'ston/Mentions, J'ayn/Mentions, N'muir/Mentions, Z'riah/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult themes. Totally space-cased on posting here, so back-dated. Log poached from Euphemia with many thanks! |
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| It was near evening that saw Zezkaith into the fading light of the summer skies without much of a scene at all, her departure from the ground quick and without the desire for blood. The sky called and she answered, with her wingleader's bronze hot on her tail for much of the time, until she finally managed to shake him off and reach quickly - desperately - for any other who would secure and save her, and found herself twining with a foreign blue. Her rider's seeming carefree response to the whole affair died only in the closing moments before her green's capture, when it seemed that Zezkaith might belong to Shimroth, and the passion with which she rejected C'ston was and has been repurposed and directed to X'vae, flight's influence wholeheartedly embraced, for all that now she's still and quiet. Izazeth had been here on duties. He'd been trying to mind his own business (which is terribly difficult, it must be said, with multiple glowing greens about). Can he be blamed for shirking his duty to, still strapped, pursue Zezkaith into the sky? It left his confused rider making inquiries and getting directed, finally, to the flight weyr in time to tangle with the green's rider. No small amount of passion went into the catch and what followed; Izazeth is a romantic, but there's instinct involved too. Instinct that fails X'vae now as he recovers from what they've shared. His voice is a little rough when he offers into the air an experimental greeting of, "Hi." It may be youth or inexperience that leads Zezkaith to trust Izazeth completely, and keeps her from straying from his side even after they've made their fall through skies and return to the ground, her adoration not effusive, but quiet and absolute. It's here that she and her rider differ, and while Euphemia makes no rush for clothing or to cover herself, her first, proper, thought through words for X'vae are, "Who are you?" as she drags her blue-eyed gaze over him rather brazenly, as if seeing him now for the first time. She reaches to touch, curious, before she can stop herself, fingers of her right hand aiming to brush his temple. Experience is something Izazeth has to offer. He knows the steps of the dance and is pleased to keep her with him - snuggled up if she likes, or simply nearby if that suits her better after they've safely made it to the ground. « You are well? » His quiet baritone queries. He's not worried exactly, rather just checking in with this stranger-cum-intimate companion. The check is echoed shortly by his rider, after answering, "X'vae, Xev," whichever she likes, "from 'Reaches. Are you alright?" Flights can be intense even for those with good and gentle intentions. "What's your name?" He doesn't seem the least bit bothered by her touch, a small smile curving his lips, though he doesn't yet move. No sudden movements, no scaring the greenrider, it should all be fine, right? « Better now, » Zezkaith assures, warm and soft, brave enough to snuggle in close for as long as Izazeth wants her, blithely oblivious that she might eventually outstay her welcome. "Euphemia, Ephie," the greenrider offers in return, her mimic of the pattern of X'vae's answer unintentional, if the sudden, deeper flush to still pink cheeks is any indication. Without any encouragement to stop, she continues her exploration, fingers tracing gently down towards his shoulder as though she's conducting a study, though her touch lingers nowhere indelicate. "I'm okay," Euphemia promises in a murmur. "...That was-- Are you...? Okay?" Now she seeks his gaze, looking up at him, rather than looking him over. At some point, surely, Izazeth will have to return to 'Reaches, but for the time being, he's already secured a wingmate's cooperation to finish the duties he was sent on, and he can stay just where he is, comfortable - more than comfortable! Pleased. "I'm great," X'vae answers with a fuller smile. "I mean, that was unexpected, but. Great." He gives her a questioning look, but doesn't articulate the question of it was for her as well. His hands move, slowly, slowly, to seek her body with an intention of light touch that mirrors her, if not the particular body parts. He keeps it tame for all that post-flight feelings might want him to pursue something less so. Euphemia walks a fine line between seeking obvious encouragement and attempting to tentatively take the lead, no longer as sure of herself as she was before, with Zezkaith's influence demanding to be answered and embraced. She hums a wordless response, her smile shy and at odds with the intensity of focus that she gives X'vae when his touch answers hers, and when she finally manages to summon the courage to seek out a kiss, it's a sudden thing, like it's all or nothing; like she could dart away as quickly if she finds herself rejected. There's no need for darting, for she's received with gentle fervor in the answer of his lips against hers. Judging from his clarity of mind to think to ask her name, he's already no longer in a muddied mingling mindset with his dragon, but none of that takes away from the pleasantness of the situation at hand. If that kiss is lasting and encouraging of more, then more there will be until the breathless bluerider thinks to say, "Do you want to...? Again?" He seems to be more than fine with that, but apparently doesn't want to make the assumption on her behalf. Following after, kiss by kiss, from the faintly startled look in Ephie's eyes when he asks her that question, it's a little difficult to tell whether she thinks she's pushed too far or is just genuinely surprised by being /asked/. She might even appear reluctant in that moment, while she does nothing but blink up at him, yet then what tension was there dissolves and her smile returns, brighter than before, as she tells him, "And again." Whether simple affirmative, joke, or something of a bolder declaration of intent, she leaves words aside again to press her mouth to his, more confident now. Perhaps X'vae subscribes to a philosophy of what happens in the flight weyr stays in the flight weyr, or perhaps he just doesn't owe loyalty to anyone in that way; regardless, he has no hesitation in matching her desires with his own. Again. And probably again. But after that, he's tired and his arms seek to curl around her slim form for a snuggle and doze (sleep? through the night even, perhaps?), not unlike their dragons. Though that skittish edge never quite entirely leaves Euphemia, expecting to be abruptly left or told to leave, by the time X'vae curls his arms around her, she does nothing more than tuck herself in against him and relax, little by little, until she's snuggled close and exhaustion can be fought no longer. Later, whether by darkness or morning light, she'll - they'll - have to leave behind the warmth of sleep and bed, but not for now. It's not quite morning's light that wakes X'vae, but the brush of Izazeth's waking light. It's there, if the green is wakeful enough to feel the ethereal warmth and tendrils of his gentle mindtouch. He speaks quietly to X'vae, but Zezkaith is included if she's awake. « We have dawn sweeps, X'vae. » It's apologetic. It's enough to rouse the bluerider, his stirrings including a tightening of the arm around the greenrider before he's awake enough to try to extricate himself without waking her. Over the course of the night, Ephie has curled up smaller and smaller, though she's not strayed from X'vae's side, and a murmur of unintelligible sound drifts from her lips as he moves and she uncurls a little, tipping her head back to peer sleepily up at him. "Time to go," she assumes, not so much quietly as softly. A moment later, she obliges by shifting away a little to give him his space, still blinking her way to wakefulness. Her other half is as wrapped in sleep's fog as she is, though with awareness comes a rising dawn over Zezkaith's mental landscape, the shimmer of something brighter and otherworldly shared with Izazeth. « Be well. » Ephie's waking leads to a pause in the extricating, once X'vae is comfortably sitting up. He twists onto his side, leaning on one arm to look down at her with an apologetic smile. "Dawn sweeps." There's a brief hesitation before he's leaning to try to give her a chaste sort of kiss. Izazeth's touch remains gentle, so as not to disturb the green further. Let her sleep! But he does whisper, « And you as well, » by way of parting before he's moving to where he will eventually meet his rider. "Lucky you," Ephie drawls, smirk quirking at one corner of her mouth. His kiss is returned in the same fashion in which it's offered, though she aims a light touch for the edge of his jaw before she lets it fall away. She doesn't seem intent on leaving the bed herself just yet, but she looks out across the weyr, gaze seeking out bits and pieces of clothing. "...I hope I didn't dreadfully injure any of your clothes," she murmurs a little apologetically, touched with light humour as her words are. As for Zezkaith, she stays where she is too, yet she watches Izazeth every step that he moves away, her head settled primly on her front paws. "They're just clothes," X'vae answers wryly. "I've a mean hand with a repair needle, in any case." They'd remember if the damage were greater, wouldn't they? Maybe not, but the bluerider doesn't seem concerned. "Can I ask someone to bring you breakfast or klah before I'm on my way?" He offers, but there's a self-conscious edge, "I'm afraid I'm not sure exactly who to ask. I mean, in 'Reaches..." But they're not in 'Reaches. Does it work the same way everywhere? He seems uncertain. "Next time I find tears, I'll send my things your way," Euphemia responds, deadpan, as she lazily stretches and then lets her head loll back against her pillow. "It's okay," she gently assures. "I should go quietly, anyway. I'm not my wingleader's favourite person right now, and probably even less so this morning..." That thought makes her drag herself upright to sit up, bringing the sheet with her. "And you'd best not be late, anyway, or we'll both start the day in trouble." A line creases X'vae's brow as he shifts. "I've got time. Some, anyway." But he does still slide out of the bed and start picking up clothes. "What's up with your wingleader?" He offers the opening for her to talk, if she wants to talk, though the casual tone implies he won't press if she doesn't want to. "I don't know," Ephie supplies with a twitch of her shoulders. "I'm pretty new to his wing and I figure he doesn't like change or people not being exactly like him. If he hates me so much, you'd've thought he'd keep Shimroth away." But she doesn't seem inclined to dwell, as is perhaps the nature of some girls her age. "It's all right." She tries not to watch X'vae as he collects his clothing, but half can't help herself. "...I think she likes him," she admits. "Zezkaith. Izazeth. I'll keep her from pestering him, promise." X'vae isn't self-conscious as he pulls on his clothes. He is prompted to laugh by the admission, but it's a warm thing of genuine good humor. "He won't mind. He enjoys talking to any dragon that wants to talk with him." Then the bluerider considers the greenrider's words of her wingleader and wing, listening without obvious judgment and answering first with an easy. "That sounds frustrating. It's not always possible to keep a dragon from chasing. Sometimes they want what they want." He shrugs his shoulders. "Were you in a different wing before?" It can't be lost on X'vae that Ephie is on the young side. "You say that now..." Ephie warns, drawing her knees to her chest so that she can wrap her arms around them and rest her head on them, modesty maintained thank to the sheet draping her. "At least it's not just us greenriders who have to do what their dragon wants, I guess," she supposes, as she gives another twitch of her shoulders. "I wasn't in any wing before. Jasper's my first... assignment? Post? Whatever you call it." That admittance colours her features a little. "...Have you changed wings? Like... as in got to choose? Or do you always have to be where you're told?" No doubt there's a number of important things said in Ephie's response, but X'vae pauses where he's at in dressing, arms into sleeves but shirt not yet pulled over his head to look at her verging on surprised to ask the most pressing, "Was this your first flight?" "What?" Ephie blurts out, lifting her head to look up at him properly. "No," she states, as clearly as one can possible make a single syllable word. "...Second." Because that makes everything better. "First time, the guy was gone before I woke up," bears the clear taint of bitterness. "Thought he cared. Was a friend. Clearly didn't." Again, she resorts to a shrug to try and emphasise just how much she doesn't care. "Pretty sure this wasn't your first..." she says dryly, settling back down. X'vae seems relieved, at least initially. "It didn't seem like your first time," he hurries to tell her. "I just-- you know, first flights are-- special? Mine was, sort of. I just, you know, if it had been--" He's a little flustered now, a blush well set into his cheeks. "Yeah, no. I mean, Zaz is a good flier and we've been paired over seven turns." So not his first. "Which," totally not obvious segue, "reminds-- well, no, not reminds." He takes a moment to gather himself. "We've chosen a new Weyr and asked for a new wing. I had a letter of recommendation from my old wingleader at my old Weyr, and that I'm sure helped get my request approved, but at least where I'm from you can ask to change wings, and it's up to the Weyrleader if you do, or not, ultimately. Not sure how it works here. If it's the same." He finally pulls the shirt over his head. "...If it had been...?" Ephie presses, slowly, the arch of one brow accompanying her enquiry. She hides her face a little more against her knees when she mutters, "Yeah, well, mine sucked." Or the waking up alone did. She's not so bitter that she can't acknowledge, "I'm glad yours was better, though," in a softer voice that draws her away from the chill of whatever's lurking beneath her sleepy, satisfied state. "...Thanks for not running out on me." What he's told her of wings and some of the politics of must be being processed, for she's more distant as she considers it and eventually gives a single nod. "I guess I'll have to see how my wingleader is today. If he's an ass for no reason... maybe asking the Weyrleader wouldn't hurt so much." X'vae's helpless look comes with a goofy sort of smile. "I don't know, really. I'd have wanted to make it... I don't know, nicer if I could." Not that it wasn't nice already. But niceer. "Mine had me sleeping with my best-friend. It was a little awkward, but it was his first flight too, so I'm glad I could make it easier for him," he relates ruefully. "People who run out without a place to be..." He's not really sure what to make of them, but nothing good judging from the headshake and pinched expression. "If you need anything... let me know?" Not that he can do much about the things that are currently problematic for her. "I don't have any complaints." Ephie offers that over with a smile that's not so different than the shy one of before, which is perhaps why she doesn't dare ask if /he/ has any commentary to add. That smile turns a little sad at its edges when she murmurs, "...I thought he was too. My best friend. One of them." Exhaling sharply, she lifts her head again and tries to joke, "It's a learning curve, huh?" without a hint of self-pity, nothing but a warm, quiet gratitude colouring her expression - she might even appear a little besotted right that second, in a different light. "Thanks. You too." Not that she can do much about anything either, but it makes her offer no less genuine. X'vae's smile for her is warm and genuine, suggestive that he has none to offer her in turn, though it mightn't occur to him to say so aloud for he doesn't. "Sometimes flights make things worse. Sometimes better." His tone is one of sympathy. "I've had flights that went a lot worse. Hopefully most of yours will be better, but yeah, learning curve. For chasers and those being chased." There's a faint sense that Izazeth is providing a slightly more urgent reminder, though the specifics aren't shared. "I have to go," he tells her, moving back to the bed and leaning his hands on it so he can lean in toward her. This time the kiss that's offered is for her cheek, if she wants it. "Thanks. For that. This. All of it." He seems to mean it, but so too does he mean he needs to take his leave for there's no hesitation in the steps that lead him out of the weyr and to his waiting 'mate. |
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