Logs:Mr. & Ms. Right Now
| |
|---|
| |
| RL Date: 17 January, 2016 |
| Who: Dahlia, T'gar, Asaroth, Taeliyth |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: T'gar goes to Fort to see Dahlia's digs. |
| Where: Bowl and Dahlia and Taeliyth's Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 10, Month 11, Turn 39 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Farideh/Mentions, Hattie/Mentions, Irianke/Mentions, Jocelyn/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Lilah/Mentions, Mirinda/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, R'oan/Mentions, V'ret/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sexual themes. Backdated. |
    |
| After a full day spent with the usual weyrling duties, it's only once the last task is done that Asaroth and his putrid touch reaches across into Fort to touch Taeliyth. As a dragon that speaks little, it's likely no surprise that all the touch comes with is a grated out, « He wants to visit. » As if such a notion was disruptive to whatever his plans were for the late afternoon. That they can Between now is perhaps a given. « Would he now. » It's not a question from the queen who's bath has been interrupted. It's Taeliyth first who considers the request, considers whether or not to dismiss it out of hand. After some moments, the gold allows the discussion to be sensed. There's some back and forthing, there's a sense without details of some reorganization. « She can be available when we've finished here. Would he like to see the Weyr or her weyr? » The question comes with a hint of flippant emphasis on 'her'. Asaroth seems to lack the finesse with female dragons. Any other male dragon would verbaly spar back and forth - reveling in the banter and plying on the charms that both queens and greens like. This bronze, however, has none of that. « Her place, he says, » is his blunt answer in a series of hisses and the sounds of insects crawling over something rotten. The rot and insects don't bother this queen, not with her Wood holding something akin to it beneath the canopy of dark boughs and gnarled branches. Taeliyth is, however, amused. « I assume he does not mean the starstones. » Presumably this is what is thought of as 'her place'. « We will meet him by the Weyrleaders' Complex. » There is an image of the wide ledge. « Do not sit in Zaisavyth or Vhaeryth's spots, » she advises rather than instructs. If he pisses off either of the Weyrleaders' dragons, that'll be on him. The rotteness of Asaroth's touch lingers throughout Taeliyth's instruction, enough so that when they arrive from the cold Between, the weyrling bronze lands on the ledge long enough for T'gar to dismount before taking to the skies again. Alone on the ledge, he stands there on the complex with a long study of the foreign surroundings around him with vague interest. There's a sack over his shoulder and his riding leathers are fastened up to defend against the cold. « The Rim has a nice view, » Taeliyth offers by way of suggestion, but that's not where she's going. Her glide across the bowl is an easy one, from the cavernous entrance of the hot springs to her ledge, Dahlia sitting on a crooked forelimb. She lands closer to Zaisavyth's middle section of the ledge and Dahlia slides down and moves to greet the bronzerider with a wide smile. "I didn't expect to see you," and almost immediately after, "You're lucky today was a bath day or I might've still had meeting and meetings yet before I was done. I need to oil her, will you help? It'll go faster with two." If the speed of the goldrider's speech is any indication, she's excited to see him. The rim is exactly where Asaroth is going, the gritty grunt sent in return is likely the best thanks that the queen was going to get from him. When Dahlia appears, T'gar pats the sack on his shoulder twice as he says, "Told you I'd come. We didn't die Between. In time to be used as labor, I see," in response to him helping her oil a big queen. Stepping towards her, "She allows others to touch her?" he asks, reaching close to try and touch her arm. "She doesn't revel in it, but she'll do it as a favor to me," Dahlia answers with a grin. "I'm sure she'd rather I do it myself, but it'll take half as long with help, but if you'd rather just sit back and watch, I'll get to work." There's a teasing edge to her tone, but the offer seems to be genuine. "I know you told me you'd come, I just-- probably lost track of when you'd be betweening. Time flies, you know, quicker than dragons sometimes." Taeliyth is unflinching, but she's considering T'gar obviously with an open regard. "The oil's just inside," the woman indicates the wide mouth of her weyr in invitation. With Taeliyth watching him, T'gar is watching the queen in turn with an open intensity. Then, "She doesn't bite? Asaroth does." He has to ask after his study, and then when Dahlia gestures towards her weyr, he turns towards it. "Time does fly," he tells her, agreeing with a grin as he looks around now. "First time I've ever been here in Fort. Makes me want to visit all the other Weyrs now. Once she heads in, he will follow. The sudden snort might be flinch-worthy if it weren't so plainly amusement from the gold. Dahlia's laughing too, but lightly, and her look is one of sympathy, the goldrider even reaching to touch his bicep lightly and give a squeeze on her way past him toward the Weyr. "She doesn't bite," is offered when she's near. "I'm partial to Fort, now, though Southern is certainly worth visiting. I haven't been to many of the others, so you'll have to let me know how you like them." T'gar grins on that touch to his arm as she heads in, and he follows. "You should," he suggests on visiting the other Weyrs. "Maybe we should make a big challenge out of it. Once I graduate, anyway. I want to grab something from each place to hang it up in my place." Since her queen doesn't bite, he casts one final look back before Dahlia's interior of her place catches his attention on the threshold. Dahlia wastes no time setting about getting the things they need, things T'gar with his own large dragon is no doubt familiar with: oil buckets filled from the larger vats along the wall just past where they would be in danger from weather, paddles, a small ladder designed to simply lean against the dragon and plenty of rags. As she does, she answers, "I might like to, but some goldriders aren't keen on having other goldriders visit. Sometimes, it upsets the dragons. Rumor had it that Eliyaveith wasn't always well received at High Reaches, but so far I haven't had trouble." Nevermind that there's been a complete turnover of golds at High Reaches since the days of Eliyaveith's visits. Meanwhile, Taeliyth obligingly takes up a pose low to the ground so less climbing will be necessary. Dahlia strips off her clothes and shimmies into a short pair of shorts and a bra that's little more than a flap of fabric to cover what might be sensitive, both of which have obviously been used for this purpose before, judging by the way they're stained with oil. "So am I going to have to inventory my things after you leave to figure out if you took a trophy with you?" It holds wry humor, but something in her voice suggests that it wouldn't be the first time something 'went astray' after having someone over. T'gar is content to take in all that he sees of Dahlia's weyr with open interest. He takes to a slow pace about, frowning at something she says. "Why wouldn't they like another goldrider visiting? Is it just the dragons?" And well, he's not hiding the fact that he's watching her strip. He peels his own riding jacket off, and then his shirt as he steals a smile over her way for her question of stealing. Straightening shirtless, "Do you want me to?" is his own question to that, approaching her and offering his arm to carry anything for her. "I could." He's teasing, surely. "Not just the dragons, no. Weyrs are supposed to be autonomous." There's a very slight emphasis on 'supposed to' when Dahlia says it and she's frowning, but the look has faded by the time she turns to hand him some of the load to move to where it's easier to access during their chore, probably in no small part because one almost has to smile at a Shirtless T'gar. It's probably a rule. "Goldriders visiting can be seen a lot of different ways. Divided loyalties for one, making people politically nervous when they're an unknown in the lay of the familiar landscape." The rest, she contemplates a moment before moving in the direction of the dragon. "It really depends on what you're planning to steal. Some things would certainly be more inconvenient than others, and some things would be downright heartbreaking, but I suppose I don't really have so much that I'd say was irreplaceable. I do try to set my salary aside for what good I can do with it. Right now, that's setting it aside in case we need to bribe or otherwise grease palms to make sure we have what we need for the winter," 'we' here certainly indicates the Weyr she's so much a part of. She's still talking about having items lifted from her weyr as normal, yes she is. "You don't make me nervous," T'gar lets her know on goldriders being in another Weyr. "I understand, though. A little. You seem to like coming to the Reaches just fine. Farideh and Jocelyn haven't given you any trouble, have they?" Hefty what she gives over with ease, he looks over her weyr as he considers what he could steal before taking a guess with, "Your bra? Panties? I won't take anything that is useful, I promise," he nods to that, then nods towards the ledge for her to proceed. "You have a much bigger responsibility than I do. I don't want to steal something that would bring the whole of Fort down on me." "Good," Dahlia has a grin for him. "It's more fun that way." She'll even move to him after setting her armload down to seek to slip arms around his neck and give him a proper 'hello!' kiss. "Do you have any idea," she starts, quietly, giving him a very serious look, "how expensive a nice bra or panties are? The less material there is, the more they charge at weaver," she advises with a meaningful raise of her brows before seeking a second kiss. Only the dragon's impatient noise that one could swear comes with a mental rolling of eyes forestalls others, adding a pretty blush to Dee's cheeks and prompting a guilty grin. "I've yet to meet Farideh, but I did meet Jocelyn, briefly, when I was there for lunch. She did wonder why I was there, but that's only reasonable." Her grin stays in place though, so it can't have been a bad experience. "Do you like them? Your weyrwomen?" It's a casual inquiry as she moves to start oiling the awaiting dragon. Rat is open to those kisses (what guy wouldn't) with a rumble of laughter heard deep as he returns each other. "I have no idea," he says on the expensiveness of underwear. "You're going to have to tell me all about it to persuade me from grabbing one on my way out." Following after her now, on his weyrwomen he gives a soft snort and a, "Farideh has noticed your queen on my ledge," he comments casually to Dahlia. "She's made a note to point it out to me, to let me know how we are always watched, I guess. She's alright, that one. Her guy's a good man, to me. Jocelyn's alright too, when I don't feel like I'm being judged by her in class." Arriving at Taeliyth, "And I've only seen Irianke from far away," he explains as he sets things down. "She seems pretty formidable. Have you met her?" "Alright," Dahlia accepts the challenge lightly. "I think the most persuasive argument is that if you don't steal them, there's a chance I'll be wearing them sometime, assuming this isn't a once-ever visit." There's something teasing in that, but at the same time, it allows for the possibility. "Has she? I'm not really surprised. Golds tend to be noticeable. Are you being watched, Rat?" There's curiosity there, but it lacks any kind of push to tell more than he'd like. "I'd like to meet Farideh, though I've been shy to impose myself. I wrote her, when I was a weyrling, trying to be friends," she looks embarrassed for that, now, "on K'del's advice," she adds with a little shrug of her shoulders. "She wrote a very polite reply," which does not mean friendly. "I've not met Irianke either, but I hope to, sometime." "I doubt it will be a once-visit, if you don't want it to be," Rat counters briskly, his smile infectious. "I'll admit that kind and attractive women attract me. As for me being watched," he pauses as he moves a little closer to Taeliyth, "I wouldn't be surprised. Not that I do anything to warrant it. Maybe I'm being watched to make sure I don't cause trouble." Turning to watch Dahlia now, "You should try to meet Farideh," he agrees in earnest. "I think it would be good for you. I'm not on board with this whole 'you-stay-in-your-Weyr-I-stay-in-mine' business. Maybe it matters when she's glowing, like I learned in class, but beyond that...." A shrug is given. "Irianke is back in Igen, I've heard," he tells her then. "Farideh's in charge until she gets back. Now might be a good time. You should meet her Drex, too. Man has the best rum on hand." That matters. "Those rumors have gotten here, too." Dahlia acknowledges of the goldriders' situation in High Reaches Weyr. "I hope things go smoothly for Irianke. I'll have to write her, but I probably won't have much of a chance for a time. We've tithes coming in sometime in the next seven, and by the time that's all settled, Taeliyth'll be getting uncomfortable, they tell me." She doesn't look like she's looking forward to it. "But I'll try. Maybe it sounds silly, but it sort of nice to be able to put faces to the people you mention. Makes High Reaches seem less of a whole different world," even though it sort of is. Dahlia's efficient in her oiling of the queen, but there's extra work put in in those places Taeliyth seems to especially like, and a little advisement to T'gar when he nears her belly that he ought to be careful as the queen's been feeling tender there. "Touch her like a woman," is amused advice, in case Asaroth likes a rougher touch. "Getting uncomfortable," T'gar is echoing that, watching her. "As in....she'll rise?" Beat. "I'm sure she'll like the note," he says of Irianke, non-committal. "Women tend to like notes." He works the other side of the large dragon, careful in his touch with his eye on Taeliyth despite Dahlia's reassurances of the dragon not biting him. Near her belly, he grunts his agreement to be gentle, though he remarks on her suggestion, "Interesting. You've touched a woman before?" He has to tease, it seems, but he's being very delicate with Taeliyth's belly. Dahlia has a light laugh that makes her nose wrinkle in her amusement. "As in she's going to be laying eggs in another month or so. She's only barely showing now." There's a little gesture to that belly. The goldrider has another laugh for his tease, and a little shrug, "Only the once so I'd know what to do during a flight if it were a woman. The way they tell you to try it out both ways so you don't hurt anyone." It isn't until after they've finished the job and Dahlia, oily now, has rejoined him, taking a clean rag to his chest to soak up the excess oil transferred from the messy process of getting Taeliyth comfortable that she asks, curiously, "Did you try things out with a man so you don't maim some poor male greenrider if Asaroth catches his lifemate?" "Ah," and Rat peers down at Taeliyth's belly now when she indicates it. "That makes sense. I've never been to one of those clutchings. Do you have to be there with her the whole time while she's...clutching?" He continues his delicate oiling as Dahlia relates her experience. Once finished, he steps back as he says, "Mm. Yeah. We had that talk already, too." He turns in time for her to wipe him down, the weyrling standing as still as possible so as not to distract her with one hand fingering the edge of her shirt. Blue eyes meet her gaze on her question before he snorts, and he runs a hand through his hair. "Ehh. Actually, I haven't," he admits. "Must've slipped my mind. I, uh, don't know about all that." There's even a little uncertainty in his confident frame about it. "Maybe Asaroth won't catch. He doesn't seem all that interested in greens or golds. Or anything, really." Fail-safe? "Don't know yet. It's my first one with her. I've been told different golds like different things." That's simple enough a response for the matter of clutching when he asks. Dahlia's happier once the oiling is finished and there's a ready smile for the hand at the edge of the bra that does nothing to cover her midriff. She must've already used a rag to pull away the excess. "You mean you put it out of your mind," she murmurs, though without much in the way of judgment. "I put it off a while too," she admits. "Goldriders have the luxury because our dragons don't rise for so long. Bronzes, however, tend to chase anytime from a few months before they turn one until they're-- well, forever?" There's a gentle tease there. "I didn't enjoy it. It's just not my thing," the goldrider murmurs, "though if you want to pretend otherwise when you're alone later and thinking of me..." Well, she doesn't mind. "But a man can die from getting ripped wrong during a flight, Rat." That's gently chiding. "Have you ever done it like that with a woman?" The topic is probably made more bearable in that Dahlia's tossed the rag over her shoulder and her hands are now traveling across his skin pleasantly, teasing across where his pants hug his waist. "Hopefully she's the sort that likes to lay eggs on her own while you get to enjoy the party," Rat suggests wryly, watching the gold dragon now. Of course, that gaze doesn't linger on the dragon for long when there's a woman half-naked before him. The main topic at hand draws a face from the weyrling before he answers, "Not looking to...rip anyone," he says stiffly to it all. "Honestly, I don't want to, and even to find someone to get it out of the way....well I can't just walk up to some guy and ask him to fuck, right? That doesn't even sound like me." He seems to not be denying all she says, but he is trying hard to keep the crinkle of distaste from appearing on his face. "I won't enjoy it," he agrees. "Not my thing either." As for her last, he watches her hands touching his skin, for now keeping his hands to himself before he answers with slight amusement, "Once or twice, back in the day. Some girls like it like that. Do you?" Of course he's going to turn this back on her. "I hope she tells me so I can be with her. There will be other parties," Dahlia murmurs, perhaps more to Taeliyth than to Rat, her look tender as she gazes at the dragon. The dragon who snorts in another of those 'you can just tell she's rolling her eyes inside' ways. She seems to possess a great repertoire of such sounds. "Seems like that'd help then. I don't imagine it's so different. Try to remember oil. Flights do a lot for lubrication, except where there's no natural lubricant." There's a little wryness in her tone but she seems serious enough. "Variety is good, but I don't need it to get off," obviously. There's a shrug to go with it so the answer seems truly a 'she could take it or she could leave it' sort of thing. "Are you hungry? I could have food sent up. Or I could show you my sleeping room or my bath," she invites, making each sound a little more appealing than the last. "Taeliyth says if we fuck here, she's going to give me running commentary and make me laugh too hard to take it all seriously." In case that's motivation to not, right here. Not that the dragon couldn't leave, but apparently she doesn't want to just now. Considering Dahlia's first answer, "I can't imagine Asaroth catching and dealing with something like that," Rat does admit, a touch amused. That amused look continues through her comments on mating flights, giving her a smart, "Will do," with a teasing nudge. "I am hungry. Are you going to feed me? Me and Asaroth did come such a long way." Beat. "But a bath sounds good...among other things." Her words coming from Taeliyth gets laughter from the weyrling as he responds, "Does she normally?" "Not personally. I trust you to feed yourself, but I'll call for the food," Dahlia teases the bronzerider before slipping out of his arms to traverse the room to the far end where the small eating table is, to slide a small panel open and call down the shaft. Perhaps interestingly, the junior seems to know the name of the person on shift and the exchange includes a few small pleasantries before a dinner for two is requested with her thanks before she slides the panel shut again. "We can get a bath while they get things together," she suggests to the bronzerider with a smile. "Taeliyth normally prefers to give me privacy, though if I'm particularly... inside my own head, I guess, sometimes she can't help but be aware." "My hands might not be working right," T'gar says on him feeding himself with his hands lifting for examination. He continues his study of the weyr before watching the exchange from Dahlia ordering up some food. He hitches that grin on in light of bathing of any kind, stepping forward as he states, "Looking forward to it. I'm lucky that Asaroth doesn't seem too interesting in what I'm doing. At least right now. Sometimes, he makes his comments. Does she always make comments about your suitors?" Dahlia's laugh is short, surprised, for his first, the sound dissolving as she grins, eyes alight. "Poor Rat. Hands not working. Whatever will we do." Her look toward him is briefly alluring, perhaps silently challenging him to find a way to revitalize them with the sensuous arch of a brow. "She doesn't always comment, but she's interested in my life. She tells me if she thinks I'm making a mistake with anyone." She makes a gesture to invite him through the tapestry that leads to the inner weyr before ducking through herself, padding kicking off her shoes just past the doorway and pulling off her bra as she nears the second curtained doorway across the room from the first. "I'm sure you'll think of something," Rat keeps it up towards that silent challenge from the weyrwoman. "I am but a mere weyrling, far from home." He follows as she speaks, unfastening his belt and kicking off his boots as he goes. "Does she say anything about me?" he asks now, his boots now gone with his blue eyes staying on her bare back. "Does she speak of Asaroth?" "I will?" Dahlia wonders with no small degree of playful wonder. "You have so much faith in my interest to make them work again?" The goldrider murmurs, teasing. Her bath is rather like a small hot spring pool carved into the rock. She casts a smile over her shoulder at the 'mere weyrling.' "Taeliyth may have said something about you and about Asaroth, but suddenly I'm having trouble remembering." Poor him, with the hands that don't work; poor her, with the memory trouble. What a pair~ "You would if you could imagine what these hands could do once they're inspired," T'gar has no modesty in saying so, and his hands have managed to at least get only his belt loose from his pants as he comes forward. Blue eyes flick towards the bath, adding, "I regret that my own weyr lacks such a privilege, though, one of my clutchmates managed to wrangle one out of all of us." Then there's that lost of memory as he approaches her, brows lifting as he queries with interest, "Hmm. And here I thought it was the dragons that had the memory loss. What can I do to jog it?" Fingers that don't work trace lightly along the small of her back. "If I have to imagine, maybe I ought to be bathing alone," Dahlia quips to the weyrling, amusement on her lips. She grips the stone edge when his fingers trace across her back, perhaps betraying how much interest she has in his hands being functional. "They say stress makes it harder to remember things. Maybe if I were well and truly relaxed," she murmurs, before slipping away from his hand to climb the few stairs to where one can step into the pool. "This weyr's claim to fame is that it was once Moreta's. It seems a little strange to me, every time I hear the ballad, that this is where she was a normal person, day to day and all that. I'm told it's a lucky thing to get a weyr with a bath as a weyrling, so good for your clutchmate. Do you wish you had one? Somehow, you don't strike me as shy about your body the way some holdbred are." "Don't like to be creative, weyrwoman?" Rat chases her words, much like his fingers chases up her warm back. "It wouldn't be so hard." His head turning a fraction as he catches that stone edge grip, "It wouldn't take so long, either," he adds that with clear indication - the smile in his voice. "I can help with that, though. It's the least I can do." He lets Dahlia slip away as those fingers now move to divest himself the rest of his clothing. As she speaks on her weyr, "Moreta, huh? How did you manage to score this?" As for getting his own bath, the weyrling moving towards the edge, there's a slight shrug from him and a, "I'm not," in agreement, "but who said anything about it being used for mostly bathing?" "Oh, I do," Dahlia assures, sinking into the water, smiling at him. "Do you think you can creatively get your pants off so you can get in?" She moves to the edge of the pool, leaning against the stone to reach her arms out toward him, "Or should I help?" Her working hands are reached toward him as an offer. "It made sense. I started out in one of the other junior weyrs, but they're farther from where we all work. When it ended up just Mirinda, N'rov and I, it made sense for me to move closer. Silly to isolate weyrwomen elsewhere when there's a perfectly good weyr here for use." Luck of circumstance, it seems. "I hadn't gotten comfortable in the other one. Expected to move by now anyway." By the time Dahlia has said it, the pants were off and T'gar already climbing into the bath. "I can help you wash," he offers in such a generous manner. He's even quick to add to her, "Your back." Once in the water, he dips under briefly to wet the whole of himself before he says to her, "Makes sense, moving. It's just you and that Mirinda, right? Your memory's jogged yet?" Yes, he's persistant. Dahlia takes the moment to do the same, dunking herself before moving to the opposite side of the pool where there's a wide enough ledge to hold a small collection of soapsand, scrubbies and other bath products. "So generous. First oiling my dragon and then helping me get clean," her voice holds teasing, but no sooner has she collected items does she move the small distance to him, seeking to brush lightly past him, tantalizingly close. "Just Mirinda and I," she confirms, "until another comes along. I'm rather hoping that Taeliyth holds off on doing that and am glad Zaisavyth didn't either." Her memory requires a thoughtful pause, "She thinks you're good for me. She likes trying to get under Asaroth's skin, but that's not so different from how she feels about other men or other dragons. She likes there's fewer consequences for annoying him because he's not 'her' responsibility." "Sometimes I aim to please," Rat is easy to say, dipping under again briefly. That Dahlia brush past him has him trying to clasp an arm around her waist to still her close, murmuring as he tries to, "Like being one of the few in Fort? While we have more than enough in the Reaches. I imagine the men here don't want to let you out of their sight." When she reveals with Taeliyth thinks, the weyrling considers that for a moment before rumbling laughter escapes. "I'm curious to wonder why she thinks I'm good for you," he says aloud, "when I'm usually not good for anyone." Beat. "Asaroth thinks it's good I talk to you," he admits after a moment, "and I think he's not sure what to make of Taeliyth. She's not like Roszadyth or Aidavanth, or even Niahvth. She's...curious, to him. When he notices." Dahlia doesn't quite slip his arm before it's around her, though she playfully tests her weight against it before pressing herself against him with a smile. "It's not exactly that. Liking to be one of few. It's that it's less complicated for how things work here, with just the two of us for now." The press of her lips terminates her explanation there and there's a press of those lips to his. She stays close after the kiss, explaining quietly, "This is easy. It's easy for me to be with you like this, to talk, to smile and laugh. I'm glad Asaroth feels similarly. Does he explain why?" It seems only fair that she inquire in return. "Taeliyth would like that, would be smug about that." About Asaroth not knowing what to make of her. "Elaruth and Eliyaveith were quite different from her, as far as I could tell," she adds after a moment's thought. Tightening his hold on Dahlia once he catches her, "And when things become more complicated, as it inevitably will?" Rat asks before her lips descend on his and he returns it with equal fervor. Once it's broken, "Because I'm not complicated and I don't bring anything complicated," is his opinion on being easy with a grin. "We're friends and I like talking to you and kissing you. I like the attention." As for his bronze, "He's said the sweetness will be good for me. Sometimes. Or he seems to think I need more friends that I can get along with." His arm squeezes her against his body, closing the distance between them as she answers on her gold. "I bet," he says to that. "Dragons still surprise me about how different and similar they can be to us." "I'd caught onto that," Dahlia tells him with a tilted head and amused smile, "All of that." Including and perhaps especially the liking attention part. "Do you suppose it is inevitable that things will become more complicated? Are you likely to start showing up and punching any other men who share my bed? Likely to start dropping my name to everyone who'll listen?" Evidently these are the first things that come to mind when she thinks complications. "I'm not always sweet, you should know." Fair warning. "Friends are probably a good thing to have. The casual sort, anyway." The casual sort might be noted because that might be what she's prepared to have. Rat laughs at the first part, his arm settling comfortably around Dahlia's waist as though it was the most natural thing to do. On complications, he seems to be giving her question some consideration before he answers wryly, "I meant more about your life with the Weyrleaders. I don't care who you sleep with, Dee. Your life is here in Fort just like mine is in the Reaches and it would be complicated enough trying to hunt down any man that shares your bed. I might drop your name here and there, though," he admits with a dramatic sigh, and a look to the ceiling. "It's not personal. It's an ego thing." He's clearly joking. On her warning of not being sweet, he's quick to say, "And I'm not always nice. It's going to happen, but at least we'll know where we stand, and one of us will apologize later with some sort of gift to smooth things over. I can live with that if you can." All joking aside, he adds more evenly, "You're a weyrwoman and you're destined for some bronzeriding Fortian rider that will end up being your match. You don't have to worry about me getting too attached. I'll be here when you want me, and gone when you don't." "Hmm," is a thoughtful noise at the matter of ego, though it stays on the right side of light to still be playful, a little laughter in her eyes. "Well, you know what happens to men who name drop for their ego too often, right? They get comeuppance, publicly. Seems the only casualty is the ego," Dahlia delivers this with appropriate exaggerations to indicate it's only a threat if it needs to be. It'd be much better to continue to be a joke, surely. "So when I get you a gift... you like expensive panties?" she teases, leaning in to tease his ear through the murmur of it and then with a flick of her tongue. Only when she leans back smiling does her expression becomes a little more serious. "I'm nineteen, Rat. I might be settled in what my lifelong profession will be, but I'm not anywhere near ready to deal with any other sort of destiny, no matter what color it rides. Maybe one day I'd like a family, but I'm not even sure I'm built for what my parents have. I thought maybe I was, I told R'oan I was, but I'm not sure I told him the truth." Her expression is quite sober in the moments where she speaks of the dead brownrider. "Anyway, not now." She tries to shrug it all off in one roll of her now tense shoulders. "I'm used to getting my ego smashed these days," Rat tells her, completely non-plussed about it. "I think I'm pastdue on about 3 comeuppances. As for gifts, I'll take your panties. I also like drinks. Clothes. Food. I'm a simple man," he says in all mock-seriousness to that ear tease. Fingers trace up and down her back as he comments to the rest, "Finding your match doesn't mean he has to be the one that knocks you up. Maybe he's just the one you feel the safest with in Pern." There's a quiet pause before he admits with a touch of uncertainty, "I'd want a family. Maybe one day. Not anytime soon, but, I can see it happening for me. Maybe it was true for you, with R'oan. You're right, though. You've got lots of time before all that. In the meantime, you should be having fun when you can." Fingers rub circles into her back. "Fun," comes as a little wistful sigh and Dahlia leans more of her weight against him in the wake of those fingers rubbing their circles. She rests her head against his shoulder a few peaceful moments before she kisses his neck. "Sometimes, I name children I might have with someone I sleep with. It's a game I used to play with some of the girls back home when we had crushes. Now it's just weird, I know." There's a little almost nervous sort of laugh. "But turns yet before I'll use any. At least five, maybe even ten. In the meantime, I'm really quite happy with my match of the moment," leaning back she has a radiant smile for the bronzerider who's this moment's match. With her laying her hand on his shoulder, "Really," Rat says to her game with interest. "What would ours be? Raddie? Ratlia? Deegar?" She can stop him at anytime. "That's interesting. The girls I remember back in Bitra were playing games like, who could steal the wineskin from under their father's drunk nose." Grinning on Dahlia's last as he angles a look down at her, dropping a kiss that's close to her lips. "I'll take that," he answers, pleased as he tries to steal another kiss from her. If a kiss willingly surrendered can be said to be stolen, then he's successful, and there's danger in the way she kisses him, suggestion certainly in the gentle grind of her against him below the water's surface. He might not end up with answers. Though after some moments of kissing, she breaks long enough to murmur. "I haven't decided. Our names combine nicely." And a few kisses later, "Tahlia, Tehralia, Garde, Rahlgar," are possibly the current considerations. "And I never had to play that game. I had a supplier." That comes with a wicked grin, before, "Now, are your hands sufficiently inspired to show me what they can do before we get clean and get to our food before it gets cold?" Since that was the plan. Well, part of the plan. Dahlia's plan? |
Leave A Comment