Logs:Mating Flights Can Be Fatal
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| RL Date: 22 June, 2015 |
| Who: K'zin, Keysi, Rasavyth, Neianth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'zin's third attempt at mating flights is still awkward but arguably more successful (and morbid) than the previous two. (Lucky Keysi!) |
| Where: Artful Artifice Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 25, Month 1, Turn 38 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Quinlys/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions |
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>---< Artful Artifice Weyr, High Reaches Weyr(#1946R) >----------------------<
The exterior curtain shields the pair of dragon wallows from the elements,
but it's really after the interior curtain set just behind them that
things become more human-friendly. The entryway narrows to what would
still be wide by people standards, but narrow enough to disabuse any
dragon of the notion of trying to fit inside, then the cavern bubbles open
into a fairly massive main cavern. Almost opposite the entrance is a pair
of doors nearly side-by-side leading to back rooms, but in between there's
space.
Spacious might be an understatement here. To the right of the entrance the
curved wall provides space for a very large table whose matching chairs
can seat up to twelve. It's reminiscent of the council chambers, really.
On the wide, wide wall behind the table a detailed mural has been painted
with great attention to detail. The Red Star looms above, Thread laces
silvery grey through a blue sky and as duty dictates, dragonriders rise to
meet the menace, flame licking from the mouths of every color (save gold,
though they're there, low in the sky in their traditional place) in the
neat and readily identified patterns familiar to all fighting wings.
A map of High Reaches sweep and the Weyr's badge get a close-up on a mural
to the immediate left of the entrance. A broad hearth interrupts and
separates the second half of the expansive curved wall from the first, and
the latter shows the greatest display of artistry in a mural of a hazy
night sky dotted with stars. Closer inspection might lead one to find that
the stars might be used as hand-holds if one were inclined to climb. K'zin's Training Room, Artful Artifice Weyr The big bubble of a cavern that matches the one on the other side of the shared hearth provides plenty of space now that the big bed has been cleared out of it. In the entry way, there's a set of shelves holding all variety of training equipment, many of smith-work to provide added resistance. The floor is mostly covered in a layer of matting, just enough to keep a person from hurting themselves on the stone when thrown to the floor. Suspended on one side of the room is a large punching bag that looks like a hand-me-down from somewhere, and certainly seeing a fair bit of use, as some spots show bloody knuckle-prints that can't yet be qualified as old. There's a little more than waist high set of parallel bars, though not longer than is useful for a single person, and a pull up bar installed high on one wall. On the other side of the room from the punching bag is something that looks a little like a totem pole, layers of cylindrical trunk stacked with arms of varying sizes sticking out from each layer. Each layer twists independently, and it looks like the arms can be taken off as desired; something to test and practice one's agility and ability to dodge. « Rasavyth, we come. » The darkness of a reflective pool, still in its purity, is agitated by a singular source, obscuring the the blank slate to give way to images in that pool. Mountains, reaching to skies beyond mists- a facade in a mirror of serenity giving imagery behind the weighty, commanding baritone of Neianth's mindvoice. The pair are timely in their arrival, as they always are. Keysi is nothing but on schedule, a flurry of all work and no play. But in this? This is not a lecture she's been looking forward to. As much as she had complained about having to learn how to dance under Irianke's tutelage, this is something she's been pretending would not come. Stark white talons of black-hewn paws reach the bronze's ledge, his yellow-worry-laced eyes a'whirl fast enough to denote that level of serenity he'd projected moments before didn't hold true long into their landing. Impatience has his tan-touched nose turned towards his rider as she unclips her straps and slides down from his ridges with the help of his paw now that he's tall enough to need to do so. "Sir?" The formality of the greeting is nothing new, her helm removed and held under an arm. « Do, » invites Rasavyth's habitually charming purr. The undercurrent of private amusement is strong today. As Neianth angles to land, the massive exterior curtain is being cranked back to invite the brown along with his rider off the wide ledge and behind the first curtain to the pair of roomy wallows protected from the elements thanks to the bronzerider's ingenuity. Rasavyth indicates with a flick of his tail that the guest couch is all Neianth's for the duration of their stay. Once the brown has decided if he shall stay or go, K'zin's arms flex to operate the wide crank that draws the heavy curtain closed. Only then does he approach the young brownrider. "Weyrling Keysi," he gives her the comfort that rank and formality afford. "The training room is this way," he gestures before leading the way into the absurdly large cavern that is his abode with it's three mural walls, twelve-seater table and side by side doors at the far end. It's to the left of these that he leads her, stopping beside the open door and gesturing that she may make an exploration of the room as she wishes. He does this in silence which may either be blessed relief from the expectation of talking, or unknowingly building the suspense of it. Either way, he seems intent on letting the weyrling get her bearings first. The weyrling pair follow through the curtain set, mirroring each other- as they do in most things- in their interest to take in the details of the assistant weyrlingmaster's weyr. Keysi's shoulders are tense, her expression neutral. And while neither of those aspects are particularly different from her usual, they seem much more pronounced as she enters someone else's private weyr with a particular subject intended to be discussed. Neianth on most occasions would choose to continue his own strength and agility training around the bowl's skies during lessons which involve talking, since he'd not remember them anyway and preferred not to waste time, but not this time. The rumbling and associated mental sensation of gratitude at the bronze's invitation is laced of his own sense of amusement between the rise and fall of his rippling mind's touch. The small brown, by both age and general blue-sized stature, settles on the couch but can't help but emit a low draconic chuffing sound as Keysi follows him to remove a satchel from his saddlebags. While it's far more common to see colors of aggression and intensity in those facets of his, today they whirl blues and greens quickened in anticipation of humor. The healer pauses with a distanced look as they share some private exchange before her attention returns to the present. She shoulders her bag while striding in K'zin's direction, and shortly beyond to his training room. Her expression would give slightly as she takes in this room, displaying a hint of that excitement that she shows only during physical training. She completes a somewhat slow, observatory circle around the room before facing the bronzerider from a fairly significant distance. That excitement is gone, her expression steeled. "Sir, I thought we needed to have a more," Her gaze looks away from him towards the heavy bag, "..specific lesson." K'zin could've remained in the door, leaning on the frame. He could've, but didn't. The bronzerider has never been credited as the brightest glow in the basket, but he seems to either have some knowledge or simply instinctive guidance that's brought him into the training room as she looks around, to quietly lean against the wall some steps in from the door, leaving the exit plainly useable as she desires. His hands are tucked behind him, an unassuming pose. "Yes," he agrees with a nod. "I just-- know this kind of thing--" he gestures to the punching bag, to the room on the whole, "Helps both of us, sometimes," perhaps especially when facing uncomfortable topics. "I can hold the bag," he offers. "And you can tell me what you know about mating flights." It sounds simple until those last two words of course, though he manages, with effort to keep his expression neutral. "If-- at any point, you think it would be better to speak to Quinlys or Telavi--" he adds, "you certainly have the option." Keysi shrugs the bag from her shoulder, catching it before it completely hits the ground and turns away to set it beside a wall. A lot of silent thinking is going on, the wheels running far too fast and with too many reservations to speak them. Grey eyes focus only on what she's doing, that being kneeling by the satchel and pulling wrist wraps from it. There's some sort of comfort in this, despite her natural intensity and tension, some sort of therapeutic feeling to circling the tough material around her knuckles, 'tween fingers, and 'round wrist. It takes at least one hand being completed before she's willing to talk again. Though the fact that she does is suggestion in itself that he hit the nail on the head with how to open her up. "Quinlys-" A beat, as if trying to eek out the right words as carefully as possible. "I am already uncomfortable in this. I would rather not be angry as well." It's not a lack of respect in that, only a reference to the number of times they tend to disagree. "And it's not the same... perspective if I were to talk to Telavi." The last part has her looking back at the bronzerider as if for confirmation in that, as if an unspoken 'right?' is tacked onto it. All the while she's coiling the wrap around her other hand, so meditative in that. "Neianth doesn't seem to care." She adds offhandedly, but doesn't put much weight in it, maybe for knowledge of his still-youth. "Quinlys-" K'zin begins wryly, "-has a punching bag too." He offers her a smile that is gentle, that presses his lips together but doesn't dare make mock of the serious nature of the chat. He's been retrained in preparation for this. Arguably, Quinlys probably did not mean for him to invite any impressionable weyrlings to his weyr, but this is Keysi, not Yesia, and he slips off his in-weyr shoes and moves across the mat to hold the bag as he'd offered. "He may not. Some males aren't interested in the chase, or at least not often, but you need to be prepared in case he develops an interest. It's not something to be learning on the fly." There's a touch of rueful humor to the words - the play on words, but K'zin is more or less managing to keep any goofball tendencies at bay. "Telavi would have a different perspective, more so than the rider of another male dragon, but each of us has a different perspective. It's unhelpfully individual. It might provide you with a better understanding to talk to Telavi, or another greenrider first hand about what is helpful in being a courteous and considerate partner, should Neianth catch." He shakes his head a bit, "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Start with what you know. What do you know?" Riding gear inclusive of boots is shed near her bag, and when she follows K'zin, it's because he moves behind the bag. Not so studious this time of his expression, it appears far easier for her to stare at the bag itself. One hand reaches out to touch the hide for distance sake, before collecting both hands at her chin in guard. "And not being at the Weyr is not an option." Easy enough to ascertain with how many greens make up a Weyr and how frequent they rise. The not-question lingers only so long as it take Keysi to understand the importance of what he says about Telavi's perspective, and with that comes her first jab at the bag. A testing throw. "I can't just stay away? Let Neianth go and stay in my weyr. I'd be unable to leave without him, and no matter how I-" the word catches, her eyes narrow at where she struck, "feel." Why's that so hard to say? "I wouldn't be able to act on it." Those all seem to be important clarifications to make, thoughts she's apparently been working on in the brief moments she'd been willing to think on it at all. His question draws out another pause; too straight-forward, that. "A female rises, he chases her in the sky." Short sentences, blunt words that clearly demonstrate her unwillingness to actually place herself in the situation even in thought, "The chasers share-" Lust? Feelings? She just skips the word, "And they do things after." Because 'doing things' is what adults say, of course. A jab punch punctuates that academic assessment. "You would act on it," K'zin says frankly, "you might even drive yourself crazy acting on it and still feeling unsatisfied." He frowns, but at the bag, not Keysi. "For a lot of people, flights aren't a comfortable part of being a rider, but they are a part of being a rider. As much as you can and will separate some of your needs from Neianth's needs, this one is not one you can. He needs you in a flight, especially when he's young and inexperienced. Things are chaotic in the air, injuries happen, and in a very, very bad flight, dragons can end up going between and not coming out again." His expression is appropriately and extremely sober. "I'm not trying to scare you more, I'm trying to tell you that, though it may be asking a lot of you to find a way out of your comfort zone to do this, to be there for him, that he will need you, if he ever chases." He lets that sink in before moving into the nitty gritty. "That doesn't matter." She's quick to respond following the concept of dissatisfaction, regardless if it would matter at that time or not. The separation issue was a touchy subject from day one for this pair and even though it's not exactly what he means, that intense stare of hers looks beyond the bag at K'zin. What he says apparently hits the pause button because Keysi stops, her entire self stilled in place with guard still at her chin. There's that hint of color in her face that he's certainly apt to have seen once or twice before by now when she's a stone's throw from losing her temper. "I could lose him because of this?" The usually neutrality to her voice is lost to incredulity. She's not yelling, per se, but she's close to it. "Neianth.. if he flies," And she has to add that onto it as if there's still some way to make him not, "That's a challenge. And he doesn't take those lightly." Neither of them do, making the possibility that the assistant weyrlingmaster put before her a foundation-rocking realization. "He would do anything-" She stops herself this time, leveling a look on him that's a dangerous one- not that it's really for him at all. "It is rare," K'zin stresses the word, "But it can happen." He takes a deep breath, "I'm not going to pretend to know how your bond with your lifemate is any better than I suspect you would suppose you know of mine with Rasavyth, but what I can tell you is that if you're too busy driving yourself mad alone in your weyr to pay proper attention to him when he flies," subtle but final emphasis, "then you'll only have yourself to blame if you lose him. I wouldn't want that on my head. I wouldn't want that ever." That's truly emphatic. He shifts so he can better hold the bag. "Sex doesn't have to be personal, Keysi. In fact, it's not most of the time, with flights." He looks a little frustrated, expression betraying a lack of confidence in how he's explaining this. "Let's-- talk about the how things happen, and then we can talk about the-- the things," feelings, "that go along with it. Okay?" A rapid succession of punches and elbows take the place of words, somewhere in the midst of K'zin's information and rightly placed responsibility. They aren't just idle things, either, within that combination given the significant amount of aggression behind them. Keysi's expression can't reclaim the mask it once had upon arrival, the thoughts warring over her face inclusive of rage, frustration and an inkling of defeat. "I don't. Want. To push. Him away just because of this." Broken up by the exhales associated with her strikes, she does at least pause to finish her sentence. "Is it safer to throw myself into this-" There's no word for what this is, "Or try to feel less... close." As if that were at all possible. There's a slipped weakness to her voice that catches the last of her question that lacks much inflection to make it obviously an inquiry. And although she doesn't really give a verbal cue to his last question, one of her hands touches the bag and lingers there as she intends to wait, and to listen. K'zin grunts as one of the strikes sends the bag back more than the rest and he has to adjust his footing in answer. In answer to her inquiry, the bronzerider has a rueful laugh, soft, sympathetic. "When Rasavyth flies, he overcomes me. It's only in the last... two turns I've managed to have any kind of separation from him." Not that they have a clean track record where flight injuries are concerned, but that need not be remarked upon just now. "It's helpful to be able to get him out of the skies if he's likely to hurt himself," the bronzerider grits his teeth briefly, "but that's difficult even so. Being with him but being the voice of reason that helps keep him safe... I'd say that's good, though some others might feel otherwise." The fact that he's holding the bag means he doesn't have to look at her much, and that probably helps him lead into the next: "So before a green -- or gold -- rises, she'll glow. Sometimes there's not much warning, other times a little lead up and trying to be gone from the weyr is your choice, but there are still duties and sometimes greens don't care if you're in the midst of them when they call to your lifemate to chase." It doesn't sound so bad yet. "So I will lose myself." Keysi brings herself down a notch or two to derive that conclusion. "Because I won't want him to lose." And she doesn't want to lose him. There's a lot of loss in this. Wasn't this supposed to be a sex talk? Definitive statements, those, perhaps uncalled for given she doesn't know exactly, but the more the bronzerider speaks, the less in control she feels. And instability makes her insecure. The next jab she throws is a weak one, her pale eyes watching the contact and withdrawing even slower. Wary. Reluctant. "..And then?" "And then you take a moment to remember that this is a safe space," K'zin answers without missing a beat. Evidently, he didn't miss the way that punch was different from the rest. "At the same time as the glowing," back to the topic at hand, "the greenrider and green may exhibit behavioral differences that can give you some warning. It's... sometimes best to give them a wide berth," this is noted not with humor but with observation. "Some greens will blood, others will just take to the skies. A gold will always blood, unless she's willing to risk herself, her clutch, and her mate in a catch too low. Gold flights are longer and the emotions tend to run higher. Blood helps them fly fast and stay fueled for the flight. Meat weighs them down, so even if his instinct is to gorge, if he goes to the feeding grounds at all, encourage him to blood. Then the flight... and every one is different. If he doesn't catch, you might deal with some unpleasant feelings for a time. Do whatever helps you. This, maybe," he suggests the punching bag. "If he does, then you'll-- happily-- have sex with the rider of the green, whether male or female. Dragons seldom take the preferences of their riders into account." He pauses and draws breath because the next question is always awful. "Do you have experience enough to know what you're doing in the heat of the moment?" "Safe." is echoed, though her tone is checked in that it's unclear if she's agreeing or not. Most likely not, given the continued discontent. All of this information appears to be new to her since for the most part she's very quiet aside from her breaths to punctuate her strikes. The combinations are fluid, traditional groups of strikes that require little focus of mind but do well to refocus the energy that would otherwise have long since made this conversation even less pleasant. The sound is rhythmic. Minimal footwork is included, mainly for the sake of not needing K'zin to reposition his hold on the bag as he talks. "So how does it work with Telavi then?" Seems to be the most obvious follow-up question, and the first thing that indicates she's been paying full attention despite the endless flow of energy driven to the bag itself. The fact that her pale eyes do glance past the bag to look at the bronzerider's face indicates she knows that's a personal question and she's assessing if that line was overstepped. There's some comment lowly uttered about "I don't think our definitions of happy are the same" but its very quickly silenced by his more direct question and the only thing she manages to answer with is. "..What?" "I don't actually need to know," K'zin's response comes a little hurriedly. "Me knowing is not the point. The point is that if you don't know what to do in bed, with a man or a woman, it would greatly benefit your safety - your partner's safety - for you to learn before you're caught in the heat of flight. It's not always or even usually rough, but it's not-- you don't take your time and be careful in a flight. It's not an option." He reaches one hand away from the bag (which may be a dumb move) to push through his hair. "There may be weyrlings in the same boat with you, or if you want someone experienced, Quinlys can recommend some names for you." The implication? Not him, but he must not think she'd think so anyway because he doesn't linger. "Telavi becomes... more tactile. Brighter. A little more carefree. Solith is much the same as she usually is, Ras has said, but more." He shrugs, not trying to explain draconic impressions. "Our definitions of happy are the same, you just haven't been in the moment, yet, to know." He observes this matter-of-factly. "When you are," the lesson continues, "it's courteous of you as the rider of the male to ensure you've not hurt your partner as can happen in the intensity of very physical exertions, and to at least be polite. If you don't know them, introduce yourself, if they'd like you to send breakfast back their way, that's a nice thing to have done for them," if the caverns staff is willing. "I don't." Is blunt if distanced honesty in the face of knowing that if she answered with anything but, it would do her no good. K'zin is, fortunately, safe when he draws that hand away from the bag because Keysi relinquishes her assault of it. "I don't want names." The physical exertion of the bag had been enough until now. Her pale face so rarely shows color, but there's now a redness to her cheeks that's unmistakable, a heat there that's unavoidable. The weyrling turns her back on the bronzerider, her gaze fallen to her wrist wraps as she messes with the ties not because there's anything wrong with them, but because anything is better than responding to that recommendation. Given a few paces to create a distance between herself and K'zin- he certainly can have no worries about a repeat of his first experience in this conversation- Keysi eventually does say more, "If it's all so basic and I'm hardly in control anyway, why must I seek out someone before I have to? If I'm doing this for Neianth, then that's all it should be." The harshness with which she says that is a selfish thing, and she seems to realize it, late, given the continued instruction on politeness and courteousness, but she can't bring herself to take it back. "Keysi," K'zin's voice is firm, meaning to draw her attention with his tone as much as her name. "Do you like hurting people who don't deserve it?" Keysi keeps her back to him. Not something she's used to doing, considering her defensive nature, but she focuses on the far wall instead. "No." Vehemence in that. "And does Neianth approve of you getting hurt through inexperience?" K'zin's tone remains neutral, and he doesn't move from where he is. The weyrling physically and verbally stiffens, "No, but-" "As a healer you have the physiological knowledge to understand what technically occurs, typically, in a woman's first sexual experience?" K'zin manages not to color, perhaps because the quick clip of the questions isn't giving him a lot of time to think about each one. Keysi won't, can't look back at him at that, "..Yes.." is long, hesitant, wary. "What they don't tell you in the textbooks is that beyond the membrane rupturing, the first time isn't necessarily comfortable, or as drawn out as a flight might be. You are safeguarding yourself by taking the proper precautions. In this case, that means finding someone you can have sex with." K'zin says it matter-of-factly. "Ultimately, it's your choice," he relents, "But choosing not to because you can't get over your own boundary enough to keep yourself safe is not the smart choice." His arms fold across his chest and he steps out from behind the bag to give her a look. "I wouldn't tell you so if I didn't believe it; I was a virgin." The last is tacked on to probably lend credence to his feelz as legitimate opinion. Her head turns enough to look over her shoulder, though she never manages to turn around far enough to see him exactly. Keysi's face is drained of that previous color, the paleness that is her natural hue just that much more pale. Her chest is tight, her hands now curled back into fists at her sides. As far as he'd curtailed all of her previous rebuttals, she's left with very little to say. What she does manage comes with a sense of stripped defenses, a cornered feeling that is all but pleasant. The teenage girl so guarded, strong, protective becoming just that- a girl. "I can't just go ask someone." Quiet, that, and with an extremely rare, extremely subtle touch of distress. K'zin is silent a moment. "I'd say more than half of us were in your shoes once." So that's something. "I asked a friend." He waits a beat before saying, "And I hurt my first male partner. Not badly. But it was in a flight and I regret it." He steps - but not toward her, rather away, to lean on the wall that is not so distant. "You don't have to 'just go ask someone.' You can meet a person first and then decide, or ask a friend. Not a teacher," he points out (wouldn't Quinlys be proud?), "but..." This is awkward. Finally, after a moment, he thinks to ask, "What would you need? This isn't about romance. What would you need to feel comfortable?" He's not asked intimately, but rather, if he can facilitate her speaking to the right person. "I refuse to endanger anyone." Granted, the caveat of knowing her aggressive temper in light of competitive situations may not make that as reliable as the resolve in her voice tries to make it. Keysi's embarrassment over her distress makes her tip her head up, eyes closed, to take a deep breath. "I don't know where to start." She says finally, exhausted. "Would you prefer," K'zin tries to assist with that conundrum, "someone more experienced or someone just learning, as you would be?" "I see no purpose in struggling for hours when I can be.." Keysi folds her arms tight to her chest, every word more difficult, "taught." "Okay." His look is thoughtful a moment, probably reviewing who he knows, though he's probably not the most knowledgeable about who she would need. K'zin asks, "Would you feel comfortable speaking with Telavi or Quinlys about seeking out a male partner? I have... a friend, who might suit, but-- I'm not sure..." Because he's probably never had to talk to his friend about his before. Is matchmaking part of this job? He might not know the answer. "Telavi." The answer is a bit quick; maybe breaching this subject at all with the weyrlingmaster herself seems unfathomable. Even if... it's her job. Keysi finally turns around to at least look at K'zin with that strained expression. "Shouldn't it be a rider?" The first she's pushed a preference- maybe that's progress. "It can be anyone, but it's often helpful because a rider would better understand, probably." Perhaps that's not as reassuring as he'd hoped. K'zin's mental gears are turning. "How about I tell Telavi you'd like her help, and in the meantime, you think about if there's anyone you know and already feel comfortable enough with that you could ask them to do this for you?" He proposes it. Keysi can only nod, with not nearly enough confidence attached to indicate that she actually might do so. After a sigh, her hand draws up to her head in probably the weakest salute she's ever given. "May I be dismissed, sir?" "Dismissed, weyrling." K'zin answers with his own salute, but before she exits the room he adds, "If you want help hanging your own bag, or want to borrow my room..." Let him know. He probably means strictly for punching and not any other variety of physical exertion. He doesn't follow her out, but before she's traversed the large space that is his outer weyr, the sound of dragging mats would have a glance back seeing him positioning them under his starry climbing wall to work off some of his own anxiety. And think, he still has to talk to Telavi when she gets back about what he's volunteered her for. Keysi's nod is brief- and perhaps appreciative but there's no manner of being able to display that right now. She turns after the formality is completed, collecting her things without wasted effort and joining Neianth in the room beyond. Her face had already become distanced, glazed, that classic look of a draconic conversation. There would be a single glance back but beyond that, there's little more than the sound of talons clicking on stone followed by the flapping of wings as they take off back into the skies and, without a doubt, back to their own weyr to hide awhile. |
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Comments
Edyis (22:35, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
The levels of horror and amusement continue on. The most shocking line: "I see no purpose in struggling for hours when I can be..taught."
Alida (22:52, 23 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
Alida: Do it on your own term, Keys. But do it. :)
Faryn (02:29, 27 June 2015 (MDT)) said...
Ah, Keysi. This was good. Horrifying, in some ways, but good. And good on K'zin for really getting better at these. Pro.
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