Logs:Waki Worries Too Much
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| RL Date: 13 March, 2013 |
| Who: Azaylia, Wakizian |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Wakizian comes bearing gifts after avoiding Azaylia for a 'seven or two, and she tries to get him to relax. There are mixed results. |
| Where: Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 23, Month 3, Turn 31 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Alida/Mentions, Brieli/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, Mave/Mentions, Nicky/Mentions, Sabella/Mentions |
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| Hatching Galleries, High Reaches Weyr Ringing the southwestern side of the hatching sands are ample tiers of carved stone benches, the lowest of which is some six feet off the ground -- just high enough to separate wayward hatchlings from unwary viewers, and vice versa. A metal railing on the outside helps prevent anyone from falling off; it also extends up the stairs that lead the way higher into the galleries. While most of the area is open seating, ropes section off some of the closer tiers when dignitaries are expected; those areas even feature cushions in the Weyr's blue and black. The higher one climbs, the more apparent the immense scale of the entire cavern becomes. The dragon-sized entrance on the ground is dwarfed by the expansive golden sands that glitter in the light. Everything on them is easily visible from the galleries, whether that's a clutch of eggs and a broody queen, or simply its emptiness and the handful of darker tunnels that lead to more private areas than the bowl. Wherever one sits or looks, however, one thing is constant: the overwhelming, suffocating heat. While there's no blizzard or sleet to contend with today, it's still aggravating to be banned from one of the warmest spots in the Weyr. Hraedhyth has no pity for shivering 'folk, not when the heat of the sand has made her hide unbearably dry. And dry hides itch. With a bucket of oil in one hand, and a paddle in the other, Azaylia tends to her lifemate in the privacy granted by the agitated queen. By the time her tail is as glossy as the rest of her, the goldrider wears her efforts on damp brow and in the new stains on her work clothes. It's dusk when Hraedhyth decides to prowl back to her spot on the sands, cozying up to a cluster of eggs as the dragon decides to doze. Looks like the coast is clear-- not that the winded weyrwoman will be able to spread the word, just yet. It was like he was a dream! Or perhaps awkward nightmare. After finding the courage to ask for a date, Wakizian practically dropped off the face of Pern, or at least the parts of it that Azaylia was inhabiting. It'd been just long enough that one might be suspicious that the absence was intentional when cavern workers might've started mentioning that Wakizian had been asking after her - where to find her, and the like, but as yet hadn't surfaced. Though the word hasn't spread, the usual guards are letting people in, and so the candidate appears, climbing into the galleries carrying a tray with both hands. His cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, and his red hat is sparkling with melting snow. He moves to the lowest tier and stands at the edge of the railing, not daring to put boots on the Sands themselves. His eyes scan and find Azaylia and he raises a hand in greeting, beckoning to her a bit tentatively. That he would dare come that close has Hraedhyth's pale head lifting, all of her lids flying open to pin Wakizian with an intense stare. Azaylia turns, her obvious confusion smoothed away once she recognizes the candidate. She collects her supplies with a smile that's aimed up at him once she's clear of the eggs, taking the steps two at a time. She passes him at first, going up a few more rows in order to fetch a clean towel, using it to wipe hands and face. Bucket and paddle are left with the pile of hides and a basket of knitting, having obviously claimed a portion of that higher tier for herself. He won't have to wait long, cloth draped over her shoulders as she approaches the candidate. "Wakizian. Come to look at the eggs?" If the weyrwoman has noticed that he's been scarce, it doesn't look as though she'll hold it against him. Wakizian's eyes turn to Hraedhyth as he notes her attention and he inclines his head respectfully towards the dragon, shifting nervously as rider makes her way over. "Azaylia!" He greets, tone a mix of cheer and relief. Then she walks past him, and his tray, and his eyes and body follow, turning where he stands. The tray seems to hold an odd assortment, there are two glasses with tall spoons sticking out of them that appear to hold flavored snow, a quirky specialty of one of the cooks in the kitchens. The color is a pale reddish-orange. Taking up the rest of the day is a bundle of sticks. It looks like it could be kindling for a fire, though kindling with splayed finger-tip branches going in all different directions. It's bound together by a green ribbon, tied to which is a brown-feathered quill with golden dragon sheath serving (something she might remember seeing in its unfinished form on a much earlier encounter with the Smith) as a grip for the writing implement. "No, I-" He pauses nervously, then in a more resolved tone he starts again: "Actually, I came to see you. See of you wanted a drink and to give you-" What? Sticks tied with a bow? He trails off looking down at the tray and then back up at the goldrider. Hraedhyth's eyes keep up that crimson gaze until Azaylia has come to Wakizian's defense, her head lowering ever so slowly. Brown eyes drop to politely inspect what's being carried on that tray, pulled back up by his answer. "Me?" Pleasantly surprised, there's just that much more to the curl of her lips. "That's so sweet. You didn't have to go and do all that." She's already reaching for one of those glasses, "Not that I don't appreciate it. I feel cooked on the inside." First thing's first-- she presses the cold cylinder to her cheek, a thoughtful pose when really it's just an excuse to cool herself off. "And the rest? Who's that for?" It's possible the goldrider is that oblivious, but given the question can't be asked with a straight face... As for the quill's sheath, "That looks familiar." "Well, I wanted to. And to be fair, the cooks did the drinks, I just asked for them nicely and promised them some new ladles. Which, really, is part of my job anyway." So, see? No big deal! "The rest is for you too. I-- well, if we lived somewhere warmer, I would've picked wildflowers or something. But as is, this is 'Reaches, so I got you some pretty sticks instead." Wakizian blushes. It sounded good when he was doing it, though judging from his expression, he's starting to doubt that the idea was ever good. "And the quill is something Thraland had me working on for-- well, the weyrwomen and the Weyrleader... but it go so confusing for a while there that Thraland pretty much gave up on the project, but I thought it shouldn't go to waste, and you do so much paperwork, I thought--" All of this has been rapid-fire, and he finally slows down enough to look at her sheepishly, "-that maybe you'd still want it." He pauses, "But it's only fair to tell you that all this is just 'cause and also an apology." He finishes, fidgeting. While Wakizian rambles, some of what he says has Azaylia hiding a quiet laugh behind the rim of her glass. The first drink is a thirsty gulp, and soon manners will have her sipping to savor the rest of the rapidly melting beverage. "This is just what I needed." Really, she can't seem to thank him enough. The weyrwoman is a calm, gentle contrast to the nervous smith's fidgeting, though even her composure breaks with a stifling bite to her lip, "The sticks are pretty." There's no hiding her amusement, soft voice wavering as she explains that she's not laughing at him, "It's all too cute, Waki. I can call you Waki, can't I?" Her free hand reaches for the quill to stroke over the detail and to test how soft the feather is. "This can't be for me?" What did he just say, woman? It's a distracted murmur, "What in the world do you have to apologize for?" Now that she's gotten her beverage, Wakizian places the tray on the bench beside them, picking up his own. "I'm glad. I thought klah first-- but it's so hot in here--" He shrugs a little. There's more blushing for her reaction to the sticks, but his smile warms at least - not a terrible idea after all! "Azaylia," He says seriously, reaching up a hand to touch her shoulder briefly, "You can call me anything you want." Beat. "Except dragon dinner." He grins and there's more of the usual, non-nervous Waki showing through. "It is for you." He confirms simply, then there's the matter of the apology: "Mave would call it um- 'being an ass'." He turns and sits down on the edge of the front bench, stirring his melting drink with the spoon, but not tasting it. "You might think it's silly, but hear me out?" He requests softly. It's clear that whatever he has to say is genuine, at least. "Even... Lady Smith?" Azaylia teases lightly, and for a moment it seems as though she might lose her nerve. Don't bite the hand that brings you tasty snow and all. She doesn't shrug his hand off, and tired legs could be the culprit for the faint pressure he might feel against his palm. The quill is left on the tray though she follows it with her eyes as Wakizian sets it down, possibly possessive now that she's sure it's hers. "Mave?" The name sounds familiar in the way so many do to one who handles the lower caverns. The goldrider sits next to him, leg tucked up under her so that she can face the candidate, hand steadying her drink atop a knee. "Of course. What is it?" Her head tilts, curiosity battling with faint concern. Even Wakizian saw that moniker about to be dropped, and so his reaction is a fluttery sigh of the much put-upon. "Well, since everyone else does, I see no reason why you shouldn't as well, if you like." He pauses, "I got the nickname because I wore a dress to make a beautiful woman laugh. And I got the promise of a date with her. How can anything about that leave me sore?" He grins, "I'll only worry if you start asking me to wear the dress again." Amusement plays on his face, but then it's on to more serious matters and his expression obliges the change of mood. "Okay. So, it all started when I asked you for a date. Only, as you know, I've never been on a date, so I asked Weyrwoman Brieli and Alida what women want from dates, only I didn't say who because, you know, there's no need for that kind of-- publicity." He swallows, "And Weyrwoman Brieli said that dating is different with riders and that some prefer a date to-- er-- lead to--" His cheeks burst into figurate flame and his previously steady gaze at Azaylia becomes fleeting at best, "--well, overnight company. Since I've only ever kissed one girl, and I was fourteen at the time, that got me nervous because I didn't -- you know, know what you might want or not want or what. And then I did some stupid teenage guy stuff that I feel bad about now, because I think mostly it was because I was scared of what you said about age maybe mattering, and I don't think it'd be a good thing for me to go into a lot of detail, but K'del said honesty is important when you like someone, and-" He seems to realize he's getting a bit off track, "Well, the point is, I feel bad for being confused and everything that happened and not just talking to you about my concerns, which would have been the adult thing. So I wanted to apologize." The babble of explanation is heart-felt, and once it's done, he allows himself some of the now mostly-melted drink. Concern melts into a look of surprise that has Azaylia blinking rapidly, making an effort to keep up with the smith-candidate's winding explanation. By the time he's done, it's all come full circle and she's back to looking a tad worried. "All of this..." Hand waves at the air between them, where all of his words must be lingering, "...because you asked me out?" The smile starts slow, quickly gaining momentum and warmth once the weyrwoman feels as though she's beginning to understand. "You shouldn't feel bad about being confused. It's all so new to you." She sounds wistful for a moment, as if those days have long passed. They probably have. "You're right, though. You should have just come to me." The glass is shifted to the hand furthest from him, if only so she can keep herself propped with a newly freed palm as she eases closer to him. "I was only trying to keep you from worrying." A lot of good that did him. "I didn't want you to think that you couldn't change your mind, after. Or that I expected you to only want to 'date' me." As for what the Weyrwoman told him, "Dating is different for everyone. Riders or 'folk. I hope you don't think I'd try to make you do anything you weren't comfortable with?" Her head is cocked ever so slightly, it's obvious that this time she's watching for any sign of a misunderstanding. Wakizian mirrors Azaylia's actions, his own glass finding its way to the far hand, and the nearer hand going to the bench to ease a little closer to her, his pinky and ring fingers falling lightly atop hers. "No, of course not." He answers her question first, and his words are sincere. "For the record, it's not at all that I wouldn't want to-- you know-- sometime-- when it's right, but I--I'm afraid I'll be terrible at it." His cheeks are crimson, and innocent brown eyes seek to find hers. "Just promise that if-- if things even get that far, you'll give me more than one shot before writing me off as a failure?" He laughs nervously, "Not that-- all that matters what with the eggs being about to hatch and--" He straightens up to say this, "I want to Impress." It's simple, but said with fervor, a passion there that hadn't been in their previous conversations. "So I hope you'll still be interested in a date in a couple of turns." Apparently, he more than wants to Impress. He plans to. And, for he-who-never-plans, that's a big step forward. Now that he's gotten out all the butterflies from his stomach, his smile is easier and he spares a glance for the eggs on the Sands, "How are you? I-- I'm an idiot for not asking sooner." Idiot, teenage boy, it's all the same! But boys can learn. The inquisitive tilt to Azaylia's jaw angles at something a bit more coy as the distance between them grows smaller and smaller. "That's normal. Even experienced men worry about that from time to time." Her own dark gaze isn't so naive, though it is honest, flickering with the possibilities if only for a moment. "Waki," It's a gentle scold at least, "You'll worry yourself sick. Relax." More of a plea than an order, though there's something firm in her tone. She keeps to her lean even as he straightens, and it isn't until his declaration that she's sitting up as well. Wakizian's passion is met with a nod, matching his conviction though she says it through a smile, "Good." She finishes the rest of her drink, though there's a pause to explain, "It won't take turns." The goldrider places the empty glass off to the side, wiping chilled fingers on her towel before also putting that aside. "I'm alright. I'll admit, I'm feeling pretty special right now." A glance for those sticks and quill, then back up at the candidate. "And you? Feeling better, I hope?" Wakizian can't help but grin stupidly as he's chastised. Apparently, all of this has gone far better than he'd imagined. "I wasn't worried until everyone started volunteering reasons that I should be." His tone is playful, though touched with annoyance. "Even Nicky said there had to be some rule about me having to have a bronze or brown dragon in order to date a goldrider. I said you're a person, who just happens to have a beautiful-" His glance slides to the side to spot the dragon in question and then the butter-her-up smile touches his face, "-fierce, loyal, strong-" What else can he think of that is complimentary and true? "-intelligent lifemate with a golden hide." Then he ruins his pitch that he was never worried there was such a rule, he adds: "I figured you wouldn't have accepted if there was a rule. And K'del told me there isn't." He blinks at her innocently for a moment, though at least half fabricated. "I'm glad you're feeling that way. You deserve it. I imagine it must be a little harsh in this cavern for you and her." His tone is sympathetic. "I'm feeling fantastic, and a lot more silly than when I sat down, but that's much better than to be feeling stupid, which was, I think, the other possibility." His toes tap the stone for a moment, knees bouncing a little, and then he asks, trying for casual and failing miserable, "Not turns? Exactly-- about-- approximately how long does it take? Sabella said something about having heard it's not so long after all? Just- just out of curiosity." 'Cause, you know, there's no reason he'd want to have a timeline for that kind of thing in his head. Azaylia's low murmur comes with a hint of warning, "She can tell if you're lying, you know." Though if he's only trying to butter up the dozing queen, that's a different matter. Sucking up doesn't necessarily involve lying. "And of course there isn't. There isn't even a rule that says weyrwomen can't be interested in candidates. But," She peeks over at him with an apologetic quirk to her lips, "I should know better. It's like if I were a Journeyman and you were my Apprentice." She looks suddenly struck, forgotten memories guilting her into give an embarrassed laugh, "Not that that stopped me when I was young." Moving on. She scoots further back onto the seat, legs stretching out in front of her as hands grip the back edge of the bench. "I'm glad to hear that. And as much as we love the eggs, I'm more excited to see what Hrae's babies are like." Speaking of baby dragons and their lifemates, "Kissing is allowed a few months after Impression, depending on the dragon." The glance she slides his way is all too knowing, "When the weyrlings get weyrs, about six months in or so... That's when they're allowed to do whatever they want." Within reason, but she isn't looking to put a damper on anyone's imagination. Including her own. "Can she tell if I'm not meaning to lie but don't know her personally well enough to know if it's the truth?" Wakizian queries, since this is evidently the case. "To be honest, your lifemate doesn't seem interested in me. Not that I can blame her, I'm not big, brawny, and have brown hide." He jests. "I was just saying the things that I've read, in the weyrling reports I was researching." He twists then on the bench, one elbow resting on the bench-back, his head resting against his fist, one foot pulled up to curl beneath him while the other drapes to the ground. This pose is flirty. Not by design, but by nature. "It's not quite like that. I'm technically under the supervision of the Headwoman, who's technically under yours and Weyrwoman Brieli's. So it's more like if you were a master and I was an apprentice. And if you knew better than to like anyone you were at least one rank displaced from being in charge of, then you'd never date." He reaches out a tentative hand to pluck an oil-slicked lock of her hair from where it's pressed to her cheek and tuck it behind her ear. "It's not against the rules for candidates to kiss either, you know." "Whatever you tell me, she knows." So Wakizian is off the hook. For now. Azaylia takes her time in appraising the candidate, "I wouldn't say you're dark enough to be brown, no. But those other two? Maybe not big enough for a gold..." Hraedhyth is nice enough to not point out his biggest, non-draconic flaw. That, and she's asleep. Azaylia reaches over to give his arm a light smack, nowhere near as hard as she's capable of, "A Master and an Apprentice is even worse." And he knows it! That same offending hand chases after his once he's done fixing her hair, using it to pull herself just that much closer. "It's different. I know how important all of this is." Or she's supposed to. "Your lifemate could be out there right now. It wouldn't be fair to you if I..." Not fair, but fun. Even Azaylia can be tempted. "It would just make things harder for you, if--" She remembers his determination, correcting herself with a warm smile, "When you Impress." Wakizian's expression goes dead-pan in an instant as he stares at Azaylia. Then, with jaw set, he accuses: "You're worried you're going to give whichever one of Hraedhyth's babies that happens to be my lifemate confusing dreams about kissing their mom's lifemate, aren't you." Then his face breaks into a grin. "Well, I have good news and I have bad news. But I should probably tell them to you quietly..." And using this pretense, he slides to close the gap, his curled up knee touching her leg. "The good news is that if one of her babies picks me, that baby is certainly going to be made of sterner stuff than to be deterred by thoughts of us kissing." He's just talking kissing. All innocent and sweet and stuff. "The bad news is that whether you kiss me before I Impress or after, the baby's going to get the same kinds of thoughts. The only difference is that I'll be making things up, instead of knowing." He is a teenage boy after all. Even if he remembers his whole 'now is not the time for girls' stance, a boy's brain can only be distracted from kissing and stuff just so long! "Besides, I never do anything against the rules, or wrong. And it seems to me that we both could use a little bit of fun right about now." Tempt her, he will! "What? No! I wasn't... well not until now." Azaylia stutters, fighting off surprised laughter once again, "Nothing so specific." Now he's gone and put that thought in her head. The curl to her lips shrinks into something more manageable, less silly, when the candidate slides in so close. The goldrider shifts just so, tucking herself up against Wakizian's side as her hand finally lets go of his wrist. She looks subtly amused, if not impressed, by his logic, what remains of her resolve carried out in a frustrated sigh. "If you do anything to hurt our babies," Fingers creep up along his chest to hook into the front of his tunic, "I will never forgive you." Not that she's without guilt, tugging him down just as jaw tilts up to meet him for a heated kiss. Not rough, she'll savor whatever her moment of weakness will grant her, experienced lips aiming to teach the candidate why you don't dangle fresh meat in front of your weyrwoman. "I would nev-" Wakizian begins to respond earnestly to her concern, taken by surprise when his ploy actually works! Lips meet and the world fades away, at least for Waki, at least for that moment. What he lacks in experience is made up for in enthusiasm and an eagerness to follow her lead and just go with it. His hands rise without thinking and slip to either side of her face, fingers tangling into her oil-mussed hair at the base of her skull. His touch is gentle, but firm, and like his lips, eager. When the kiss is broken the delighted, lip-cracking grin on his face announces that is not the lesson he took from it. Unable to resist, he leans in again, trying to claim another! Enthusiasm isn't stifled, but tempered as Azaylia leads eager youth through a kiss that is far too passionate to belong to her. And yet there she is, pressing up against him and gripping his shirt with both hands, eventually ending the embrace with a brush of silk that can't just be lips. Her complexion isn't one that is easily flushed, but there is a certain glow when she pulls back, her own smile much more reserved and yet... not. Her lips are still there when he leans in again to deliver a much sweeter peck, a cruel contrast to what they had moments ago. Much shorter, too. "There." Sounding even more breathless than usual, she pulls back, "Now you won't have to make things up." She's trying to be kind, as much as she can be as the goldrider untangles herself from him. With a quick glance, she tries to see just how many people have realized that it's safe to be in the galleries again. There's little resistance to her pulling away, beyond a moment where strong arms wrap around her and he gives a firm squeeze. "Oh, oh no." Wakizian can't help but correct with a laugh as he leans back against the bench, also more breathless than not, eyes full of excitement and wonder like a kid that just got the best turnday present ever. "I'll still be making things up. It'll just start grounded in reality." He's laughing harder, and his cheeks hold a blush, but he's too thrilled to care. He lets out a loud, "WHOO!" and laughs some more, before his eyes sweep towards the dragons on the sands. The squeeze brings forth one of Azaylia's startled squeaks as well as a little tremor, and for a moment longer she's clinging to him like before. "That was mean." She's laughing again, the sound tainted by only a few lingering nerves as she finally breaks free. Wakizian's loud crowing has her back straightening, still laughing even as she sets to repeatedly smacking his arm. Each blow more harmless than the last. "Stop that! It was only..." She doesn't finish her statement, not wanting to rob the young man of his moment. "I don't think I've ever been 'whooed' before." Another glance sent up to the stands, to the number of people that will only grow the longer Hraedhyth slumbers. "I'm going to go get cleaned up." It may seem sudden, but not harsh, smile remaining as she gathers up her sticks and new quill. "Waki? Try to behave?" Not that she sounds terribly worried. The weyrwoman places a soft kiss to his temple before turning to climb up the tiers in order to get the rest of her belongings. She'll give him a wave before she really leaves if he's still watching her by then. Wakizian's bright brown gaze tracks her as she rises, "It's a compliment, I promise." He can't seem to stop grinning, not even when she gets up to go. He leans up a bit welcoming the kiss to his temple, "I'll see what I can do. But I can't make any promises," comes his cheeky response. voice laced with good humor. He raises a hand to wave back at her, and will linger a few minutes, reveling in the experience, and gazing at the eggs. Then with tray and empty glasses in hand, he'll be on his way out, too. |
Comments
Mave (Mave (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 14 Mar 2013 13:43:09 GMT.
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Cuuuuties. I knew Wakizian was worried for nothing! I really liked hints of Azaylia's feeling of nostalgia. (Though she should never miss being a teenager. It is clearly the worst.)
Brieli (Brieli (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 14 Mar 2013 14:47:57 GMT.
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Hee. Cougar. ;)
Nicky (Nicky (talk)) left a comment on Thu, 14 Mar 2013 15:23:41 GMT.
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- wolfwhistles* You go, Waki!
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