Logs:Ignore It
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| RL Date: 4 September, 2015 |
| Who: Nala, Aislara, Jynth, Ryerith |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, Ista Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Nala and Aislara take a brief holiday, and Tippetarius makes a brief flight. |
| Where: Beachcomber Cottage, Ista Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 9, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
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| For all that Nala evidently likes snuggling up in bed, she's not one to usually actually sleep very late, or linger long once morning and duties arrives, but today must be one of the exceptions. It's not her weyr or the one she spends time in with Aislara that she peers out at over the top of the covers, but one of the cottages along the Istan coastline, its decor heavily influenced by the beach itself, all pale, sandy shades, blues and whites and driftwood. On the mantle above the hearth, Tippetarius sleeps, having claimed that spot for herself, a patchy, inconsistent glow that seems to crackle across her uneven hide flaring every now and then. It's quiet, for now, the sound of the ocean washing in through slightly open windows. Aislara is not one to sleep in and be idle, yet this morning she's lingering in bed with her eyes closed as she drifts in and out of a doze. She turns with a sigh, moving to burrow herself against Nala. "We should get out of bed," she murmurs, her eyes remaining closed as she snuggles, "but it's too comfortable." Tippetarius has earned herself a shadow as Spy lingers near to where the gold is sleeping. He isn't sleeping. That inconsistent movement of glow has hold of the brown's interest. He's latched on to it. Perched on the back of a chair, he balances himself with a flare of his wings and then resettles to wait. Outside, Ryerith continues to slumber in the wallow she and Jynth have been sharing. The sun has slowly made its way up into the sky to announce morning and it begins to drape it's warmth over the coastline. "We have no duties and no-one else to consider," Nala murmurs, wrapping herself around Aislara. "We don't have to do anything." Rather than continue peering out at the cottage, she dips her head down and tucks it into the crook of the greenrider's neck. After a few moments of silence, she murmurs, "Ignore it," without providing a subject or object to do the ignoring of. More silence, then she must realise clarification might be required. "She does not fly very well. I cannot reliably sell her eggs. What eggs there ever are." There's something apologetic in her words, whether for Aislara and the timing or for Spy. Like his rider, Jynth is awake, though hasn't moved from Ryerith's side, content to curl around her and watch the sunrise. Aislara stirs at Nala's words, eyes fluttering open as she pushes up on her elbow and glances towards Spy. "I thought it was odd he wanted to join us," he tells Nala, frowning at her brown and glancing towards the slumbering gold. "He's generally content to stay home when I travel." She rubs any residual sleep from her eyes and continues to sit up, taking a corner of blanket with her to hold against her chest. "How would we ignore it? It's going to happen," she adds, looking bemused as a small smile lifts the corner of her lip upwards. "Don't be mean to Tip," she chides, "she can't help her deformity." Nala makes a quiet sound of protest when Aislara moves, and deliberately goes limp, like she'd just flatten her back to the bed, though she ultimately desists and glances over towards Tippetarius herself. "It could be days," she mutters in a somewhat disgruntled fashion, flopping onto her back to look up at her lover. "It could be in the next thirty seconds. At least it is not as... all consuming as a proper flight." She sighs. "I am not being mean - she is how she is. She might not be what I expected or paid for, but... I do care about her." As awkwardly as she declares that. "Her flight could be over in thirty seconds; she could fall off that mantle by accident and he could get her before she reaches the ground," the bluerider utters dryly. Aislara shouldn't be laughing but suddenly she is, her giggles bubbling up at each description that Nala uses in reference to the potential flight. "Spy'd find that thrilling, I'm sure. To tangle on the ground like a feline or canine." The brown upon hearing his name angles his head towards the women and shifts his footing on the chair. He stares at them for a long, unblinking, moment before he swings his head back to his watch of Tippetarius. Aislara manages to control her mirth as she eases back against the pillows against the headboard. "I know you care about her," she adds, reaching a hand out to brush through Nala's hair. "You aren't cruel. Some would've killed her upon birth." It's a little while before Nala speaks again, too happy to listen to Aislara's laughter instead, but eventually she takes action and lifts herself up to sit across the greenrider's lap and plant hands down on the headboard. "If I cannot be 'mean', then you cannot laugh," she tells her in warm, teasing tones, as she leans in to claim a kiss, influenced by the odd little gold or otherwise. "She would have perished in the wild," she murmurs, dropping her head to her shoulder. "Then, maybe the same could be said for any of us, left to our own devices." She lifts her head again to look up at Aislara. "...We could go dancing tonight?" There is nothing other than her simple response behind the kiss that she returns to Nala. Her hand drops from holding the blanket against her chest, her simple shift the only thing keeping her warm against the morning breeze entering the cottage. "I'll try to stop laughing," Aislara's smile and laughing tone do not make that statement sound solid, "The wild can be cruel," she admits and that seems to sober her more than anything else. The mention of dancing has her lighting up again. "Where would you want to go? I don't think we've danced in a long time. At least," she teases, her hand drifting to rest against Nala's hip, "not the sort you'd do in public with music." Spy warbles, eying the gold. His impatience with her slumbering is causing him to fidget on the chair. "Don't. Ever." Nala is sober for those two words, then dips her head again to nip at Aislara's neck. "Somewhere warm. Nerat. Southern. Somewhere where there are not so many layers of clothing between us." Whether Nala nudges at her or she wakes of her own accord, Tippetarius provides a not so pleased chitter of sound as she surfaces and finds herself staring into Spy's watchful gaze. Perhaps her bluerider's comment about the mantle and falling is not so far from the truth, for she scrabbles about like she'd avoid him, her eyes a swirl of lavender and red, and near pitches herself straight to the floor. As she falls, her one good wing flares to provide some resistance, her twisted one doing little to balance her, yet she manages to steady herself just in time and swoop uneasily for one of the open windows. "You have friends in Southern don't you?" Aislara queries, innocent in the question, "we could go there and I could meet them, if you want. Or Nerat could be fun. I can't think of the last time I went there." She speaks in a distracted way, trying to remain focused on the words exchanged rather than Nala's actions of teeth to skin. Spy seems unbothered by Tippetarius' less-than-graceful movements. He watches with flared wings, his haunches hunching in preparation for a launch. Her tipping out of the window draws his forward momentum to follow. He won't press her as some males might, giving her plenty of space to take to the sky however she is able. His impatience is discarded and now, having no clear competition to worry about, the brown allows himself the time between the chase and his eventual catching of the gold to stretch without further pushing. "You can meet them if you would like," Nala agrees without hesitation, "but I think I might want to keep you all to myself." It's a little difficult to tell whether she means right now or not, since she doesn't seem to be able to stop what she's doing, and pauses only to strip her short, black nightdress off over her head. "We could have ignored her, you know," she says softly, teasing in her placing of blame. "Now look." Tippetarius doesn't manage to get far. She never does, being so much more comfortable on the ground. There's little height involved, her path taking her not much higher than the tall grasses that edge the beach, and before long she begins to falter and veers sharply as the weaker of her wings starts to give out. Aislara's smile is bright as Nala mentions she could meet those friends and her blush creeps up to her cheeks at the end of that statement. She dips her head down, avoiding Nala's eyes but her smile remains firmly in place. The movement of Nala removing her nightdress draws Aislara's eyes back up and they widen just enough to show her appreciation for the view offered. Her hands drift and then she's reaching and claiming, gentle in her need and not all that fueled by Spy's emotions. "I would've wanted you regardless," she murmurs as she presses her lips against skin. Spy waits until Tippetarius begins to falter to swoop in, his speed and agility his true advantage as he grabs her and tugs her close against him. Their twining is fast and demanding as his neck and tail twist around hers and he keeps his wings out enough to glide at least a short distance until he allows the gold to return to the ground. Nala doesn't manage much more than a pleased murmur against Aislara's shoulder before she finds more distracting things she could be doing with her mouth, and though she's not the least bit aggressive, there's still something of Tippetarius' claws in the press of nails that might leave a mark or two to be discovered later. Even when the odd gold has begun her possessive claiming of Spy once they've reached the ground, all nips and claws and hers now as she makes to curl as close as she possibly can, Nala still takes her time, her need and interest in her own partner outlasting the flight of the temperamental creature. "...It is different," she says quietly, once she's draped herself over Aislara, "being chased. Even if she is not... a dragon." Aislara keeps a possessive arm around Nala, holding her close against her as she drapes. Sated and even more unmotivated than she was earlier to leave the bed, she makes a small noise in the back of her throat in query. "Why?" she finally manages, stretching one arm back to support her head. "I'm not... I suppose, if I had a stronger bond with Spy, I would've felt more than I did from him." She trails her fingers along Nala's back, comfortable in their closeness. "But, when you're chased... it adds a different layer to your emotions," she agrees, "to the thrill and strain of making sure you fly faster and higher than the males." Outside, Spy seems content with the gold's claiming. He drapes his wing against her, shading her from others views and from the morning sun. Short as the flight was, his contentment is clear in every line of his small body. "Just... wanting to get away and wanting to be caught at the same time is... different," Nala says slowly, frowning as she tries to muddle through what she means. "Jynth only has one goal when he chases, and if we get distracted it's by aggression. I am not as close to her as I am to him, but... it is enough to feel the difference. Not that I know whether she has any proper instincts about anything at all." She lifts her head to touch lips to skin as she slides a hand in against the small of Aislara's back. "We could just stay here all day and slink out at night," she murmurs. "I could probably contain the urge to make holders blush by keeping you in improper dancing holds by then..." "Sometimes you do not want to be caught at all," Aislara informs her in a casual way, still loose against the pillows and blankets. Her fingers continue to trail along Nala's skin. "And when you are... you're angry about it." She lifts a shoulder in a tiny shrug. She pulls her finger around to tap Nala's nose. "Just because Tip has her issues doesn't mean she is unnatural with her instincts. She glowed. She flew - enough," her smile has returned as she draws her fingers along Nala's jawline. "I like it when you make the holders blush. Though.. really, it's only the women who fuss. The men," she rolls her eyes and hitches her grin into more crooked lines, "seem to take a different interest entirely, don't they?" She pauses and snuggles closer against Nala. "We could stay in bed until hunger drives us out." Nala can't find words to accurately convey an intelligible response about anger, for all she does is press closer, arm tightening for a moment before her hold loosens again. "The women probably think we are going to steal away their daughters and corrupt them," she remarks, voice low. "And the men just want to join in." That thought makes her possessive again, hands reaching to drag blankets up around them both, like she could use fabric to bind them together and keep everyone else out. "I'm not hungry right now," she says, content, though suppressing a yawn, as she continues to carefully tuck blankets into place. Soon, she settles back down and lifts a quietly adoring look up to Aislara, then drops her head down to her shoulder and closes her eyes. Aislara catches that look and answers it with a small, sweet, smile. She dips her head down to press her lips to Nala's forehead and then settles down against the pillows as she snuggles into the blankets. She keeps one arm tucked against the bluerider while the other moves to idly play with Nala's hair until sleep claims them both. Hours may pass before they finally awaken to the day and find the idleness of their trip drawing them lazily through the motions of the tasks they set out to do. At night, as promised, a trip will be made to Southern and more than one dance will be had. It is near morning when the pair return to their cottage and sleep still is not their first pursuit. Their late morning rest clearly has given them the most opportunity to enjoy the fullness of their day. |
Comments
Alida (18:27, 4 September 2015 (PDT)) said...
Awww, Tip! Who cares about wings and short flights? You're a little gem. :)
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