Logs:You Just Don't Know Everything
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| RL Date: 31 January, 2009 |
| Who: K'del, Phara |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del's 'bright idea' of hanging around to watch Peirith's flight backfires when Cadejoth decides he really does need to chase her. Phara and Bennath attempt to stop him, which fails; later, Phara helps K'del out again. |
| Where: Leaking Cavern, Fort Weyr / Northeastern Bowl, Fort Weyr / K'del and Cadejoth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 20, Month 11, Turn 18 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Cirse/Mentions |
| Leaking Cavern, Fort Weyr It's all dark stone and dim lighting, the place for the Weyr's residents and riders to gather when the day's work is done and they have a few spare marks to toss around. The Leaking Cavern serves as a place for folk to unwind in a mellow environment that's free from the usual controlled chaos that the rest of the Weyr operates under. The bar's namesake is against the back wall, directly opposite the entrance -- it's a steady leak of water that courses down a section of the dark wall that's been carved by an industrious Smith at some point to create a waterfall effect. The combination of water flowing down shelves and into overflowing wells provides a soothing audible backdrop for hushed conversation or bawdy laughter alike. While this chamber is a bit cooler and more damp than some might like, the atmosphere is relaxed and the drinks are reasonably priced. Along the wall to the left of the entrance is a long, curving bar carved of stone; Al is a permanent fixture behind it, with Sasha's presence being equally ubiquitous. A smattering of well-worn tables and chairs are haphazardly strewn about, often prone to being moved by patrons; typically, groups shrink and grow to follow the ebb and flow of conversation. The decor here is relatively sparse and lit primarily with glows, though a few of the more stationary tables might sport a lamp or two. It's a cold, slightly cloudy late afternoon, when Cadejoth extends a mental thread towards Bennath, greeting him with a shimmy of bones and chains. « K'del's in the-- bar thingy. If yours wants to join him. » Of course, everyone knows that Peirith's liable to rise today, but the bronze /seems/ unaffected by this, as cheerful and exuberant as ever. In the Leaking Cavern, K'del lingers near the bar with a beer in hand, ignoring the dirty glances a few of the occupants give him. Cirse didn't kick him out: he's staying. Bennath extends himself to Cadejoth in turn, mindvoice only a muted purr today. « She comes, » he assures Cadejoth, and then the hold between them dwindles into a tiny thread again. It isn't long before Phara is striding in, a red scarf around her neck on top of her riding gear. Her face isn't nearly as welcoming as it might normally be. Though she smiles, her eyes are wary, guarded. She swings easily through the tables. "K'del?" she wonders, and there's that same carefullness in her voice as in her tone. She glances at the faces of the people around her and exhales. "I knew you ambitious, but I didn't take you for a fool." Look at that: K'del's face falls, his nose wrinkles, and he looks, for a moment, like a petulant teenager. Recovering, he affixes a patient, if long-suffering, expression, and shakes his head. "Cadejoth's too young. Hasn't shown any inclination towards chasing anyone, let alone a queen. He's watching her right now, but not with /interest/. I was delivering messages, figured I might hang around, see what it's like. From an /onlookers/ perspective. Why does no one believe me?" Beat. "And I saw the Acting Weyrwoman - think she must have been, anyway - and she didn't kick me out." Phara shakes her head, running cold fingers through her hair and sighs. "You're just tempting fate here, darling, but it's your choice. It's like a greenflight, only longer, bloodier, and ... charged." A frown crosses her face. "We all lose our minds a little during goldflights. It's a good thing they're a rarity. If golds flew the way greens did, nobody would get any work done." Now her fingers extend to touch his cheek and she smiles with real feeling. "It's lovely to see you. Things have been so tense around here." K'del's expression turns solemn as Phara speaks, his nod only barely noticeable, the faintest incline. His mouth sets into a stubborn frown. But it's not until after she touches his cheek, his own fingers lifting to linger briefly atop hers, that he speaks again. "Bet they have been. Good to see you, too. Promise: it's going to be fine. Can I buy you a drink?" Phara grins in earnest now and slides onto a barstool, pushing the other out for K'del beside her. "You can buy me a drink anytime, dear. Ale, if you please." She pats the stool top invitingly. "Tell me what you've been up to in that glacier you call a home." /That/ is a grin that K'del can return wholeheartedly, slinging himself onto the barstool as he lifts his hand to attract Al's attention. "Ale for the lady," he requests, putting the marks down upon the bar, and off goes Al to fix the order. Gathering up his own mug again, Kas considers. "Running messages, riding sweeps, carrying people about-- the usual. Steadily getting closer to graduation." Phara gives the bartender a wink when he comes back with her ale, taking a drink before she says anything else. "How terribly boring for you. Graduation's soon though, yeah? Just after turnover?" She thinks about it. "Speaking of. Got any plans yet?" An eyebrow quirks for the question, more ale is sipped. "Desperately boring," laments K'del, over-dramatising his expression and tone of voice. "We Impressed end of month 12. So: we'll graduate sometime around then, this turn, I guess." He takes a sip from his drink, swallowing it before he continues, "For turnover? Already?" There's amusement in his expression. "It's two months away! No, I haven't got plans yet. You have a suggestion? Didn't really get to do anything, last turn, what with Cadejoth being--" he breaks off, instead illustrating with his hand: small. Very small. Phara chuckles. "It'll get better. Maybe." She winks at him and turns her mug around in her hands, the handle pointing towards her and then away as it rotates slowly on the bar. "Well, it's good to know where you're going, yeah? I don't have anything big planned. We'll probably have eggs by then, or close to it." She runs a finger over her bottom lip. "Maybe I'll have a contest to find the best kisser in the Weyr and go home with him." No shame. She watches his hands waving and smirks, catching his drift. "Hard to imagine they were ever so small, isn't it?" "Only maybe? That's not encouraging," mock-sulks K'del, curling his lower lip out. "Mm, suppose. Come to think of it, never really did anything big for turnover. Turn before last, I was still with the family, and we tended to stay in, or go to a local little thing." Something, clearly, he never thought much of. "Eggs. Is Bennath much of a search dragon, do you know?" Beat. "'m sure you'll have no problem getting them to line up the length of the bowl, as you pick one out," he teases. Then: "Yeah. Seems like a lifetime ago, too." "Well, I can't be sure what it's like at High Reaches, or in another wing. T'rev's great about giving us days off, you know." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "You know what? That calls for big plans! You should have a proper turnover." She nods enthusiastically to her own idea and then sobers. "Not sure, since he wasn't.. acclimated to Fort the last time there was a clutch. Or maybe he was still too young. He's only three, you know. I was barely tapped when we moved." She laughs at that particularly memory. "I practically ran away from T'rev when he tapped me, too." She drinks more ale, her head turning slightly, like she's trying to listen to a noise. K'del grins around the edge of his mug, noting, "Knowing my luck, I'll probably end up with a Wingleader who doesn't believe in days off. A proper turnover? What constitutes that, dare I ask?" Swallowing his next mouthful, he nods while she talks, listening with interest. "Guess you'll see, this time. Must've been strange, though, to leave so soon. Can't imagine not being at the Reaches, you know? Why'd you run away? Practically." His gaze follows the turn of her head, brows raising just slightly, expression questioning. Phara smiles. "Well, they have to give you at least one restday. There's some ray of light in that." She gulps the last of her ale, lifting her hand to signal Al for another. "Want a refill?" she asks him, "This round's on me." And then, merrily, "A proper Turnover obligatorily contains dancing, too much drinking, much merriness, and anything else you can think of along the way." She sets her chin in her palm and fixes her gaze on him. "Didn't have a choice, darling. When your Weyrleader tells you to go, you go. Could just as easily have wound up at the Reaches like C'mryn, or at Ista. But our wing went to Fort, and so here I am." "True," allows K'del, finishing the last of his drink moments after Phara does, and nodding his interest in another. "Thanks," he tells her, though he shuts his mouth again promptly as she lays out the requirements for a 'proper' turnover. "So a mid-winter gather, more or less? Something I will /definitely/ need to experience for myself, I think." His lips purse, as she continues, and, reluctantly, he nods. The arrival of the next round of drinks at least distracts his hand and the bob of his head for a moment, but, as he wraps fingers about the mug's handle, he says, "Guess so. How'd you feel about it?" Phara pays for their drinks, and grins. "Sure you will. I'll see to it myself." She reaches out to mess up his hair fondly. "What's to feel? It's just another place, isn't it? Besides, been here long enough that it hardly even matters now. Telgar, Fort, Ista, High Reaches? So long as I have friends, I'm happy anywhere I am." Early evening begins to fill the cavern in a bit more, and a card game starts at another table, towards the back. K'del looks pleased, grinning broadly at Phara as she messes up his hair, one hand reaching out to squeeze, briefly, her outstretched arm, before it returns back to his drink. "Suppose," he allows. "And it's not as though you can't travel anywhere you want, after all. And at least you were with friends - wingmates, and so on." Phara nods her head easily, and her breath hitches a little when he squeezes her arm, her smile growing a little shy in her own way. "Exactly. It's not so bad, all things considered, right? Really, far worse places to be, anyways. Could have gone to Igen." She grimaces. "Couldn't take that kind of weather. I /like/ the snow." K'del's smile is fond, particularly for her reaction to his touch. At her grimace, however, he laughs. "No Igen or Ista for you? Mmm. Can see the appeal of the heat - girls wandering around wearing very little, or outright nothing at all - but reckon I'd get tired of it. Place ought to have /seasons/, you know? Warm over the summer, then cold for the winter. And Fort seems nice enough, as a place." Phara looks a little uncomfortable at the idea of all those naked girls. "Don't you see enough scantily clad women?" she teases instead. "Know I'm not the only girl you take up with on a regular basis." But she's in agreement for seasons. "Fort's got seasons," she agrees affably. "Ista, Igen.. they're just hot." For the discomfort, K'del adds in, amused and easy, "And naked men, too, I guess, though that's not my thing. And Phara, Phara, there's no such thing as /enough/ scantily clad women. Got a few regulars, sure, but that doesn't mean a man doesn't like to look, right? All the time?" Grinning, he lifts his mug, clearly as a toast: "To real seasons, then, and the weyrs that have 'em." Phara lowers her voice, chuckling, "Dunno if I'd want to see so many dangling bits all the time. Might get old." But again she nods. "You can look, I won't complain." Smirking, she turns to watch the rest of the room. "You play poker?" she wonders aloud, glancing at him and then lifting her mug to clink gently against his. "To seasons." "You don't think you'd find our 'dangling bits' endlessly appealing? I'm hurt. Never get tired of looking at breasts, personally." K'del's teasing, his tone still light. "But I'm glad for your permission. Poker?" His head turns, so that he can see the group at the far table, and he shakes his head. "Never learned. Should though, at some point." Glasses clinked, he lifts his to take a sip, leaning back against the bar contentedly. Phara's chuckle grows into a full-bodied laugh. "Oh, don't be hurt. Yours is nice. But think of it this way. You like looking at nice breasts, right? But I imagine you don't want to see your mom's. Or your sisters'. How about your great aunt's, or your grandmothers?" She giggles. "I mean, there's no rule that says none of /them/ can walk around topless at Ista. Maybe it's better you get to choose who you see in their alltogether, rather than casting such a blanket statement." Honey-colored eyes move away from the players, back to him. "I'll have to teach you," she says, eyebrows drawing down, clearly disapproving of his lack of knowledge. K'del is obviously, plainly, pleased by Phara's compliments regarding his own -- tangling bit, but it's his response to the rest, and the way that response plays on his features, that is most noticeable: there's that wrinkle of his nose again, the 'oh yuck' expression. "I take your point," he allows, finally. "There is such a thing as too much information, I guess." Or skin, in this case. "You'd better. I've watched, but... seems like it's a pretty popular activity, around these parts. And at the Reaches." Phara winks at him while she gets to her feet. "No time like the present." She digs into a pocket and gestures for him to follow her to an empty table as she extracts a deck of cards. "Never know when the opportunity for a game will come up," she explains cheerfully, pulling out a chair for him. "When I'm done with you, you'll have grown men crying." Surprise fades to anticipation fairly quickly, as K'del grabs up their mugs and follows to the table. He settles into the chair pulled out for him with a grin, mugs set onto the table, and promptly laughs. "Crying? Now this'll be good. Do you always carry cards with you?" Phara sinks down across from him and begins shuffling her cards, looking at his face instead of what her hands are doing. "Of course I do." Not like she doesn't have enough pockets to carry her whole life with her. "Now then. Do you know how to score at all?" K'del, by contrast, looks at her hands - clearly at least a little impressed. "Just in case?" Apparently, that makes sense enough to him, because he nods. "Er. A very little bit? I mean - having two of the same, or three, or a couple in a row. Not much more than that, though." "Yeah. Never known when a game is going to form. No point in having to run off to find a deck when it's easy enough to keep one in your pocket." She chews her lower lip and then drops five cards for each of them, setting the rest of the deck to the side. "Alright. There's a few variations to the way poker is played, depending on how cards are dealt and the way betting happens. But I'll teach you the one most people know how to play for now, since it's the easiest. " So goes on to explain the way cards are scored and finishes off, "So you start off with a round of betting. Someone places the first bet, you can either match or raise. But we won't worry about that yet. Look at your cards, tell me what yo have." "Pockets," grins K'del. "Amazing things." Then, he shuts his mouth so that he can listen, clearly with great concentration, his lips pulled together into a thoughtful purse. He gathers up his cards while she talks, examining them, then glancing up to listen, then repeating the process. When she finishes, he laughs. "Big load of nothing, from the looks of it. Well. Might have a run, if I had a four. So I can swap some out, is that right?" Phara laughs and shrugs. "It often happens that way. Sometimes it's not so important what you have. I've won big pots with nothing but pish-posh. Sometimes it's about sticking it out until the other players fold. But go ahead, swap some out. See if that does you better." "And making them think you have something," hazards K'del, as he pushes in two of his cards, replacing them with another two. Whatever it is he's now picked up is, however, abandoned: right at about that moment, Peirith goes up, and the impact, even in here, is instant. The whole atmosphere changes. K'del /freezes/, though, for now, Cadejoth remains where he is, quite still. Watching. Phara's hand stops on the deck of cards in the process of drawing herself a new card. She shivers, eyes straying to K'del's face, that careful, wary look back. "Not good," she murmurs, eyes glazing over momentarily as Bennath responds to the queen and then turns his attention to Cadejoth. "You should leave," the bluerider says carefully. K'del did get the four he was after, something that is revealed as he drops his hand, without even seeming to notice that he's done so. He looks, for a moment, like a small creature caught in a bright light. His mouth opens, as though he's about to say something, and then it shuts again. Outside, Cadejoth is no longer still: he shoots upwards, joining the other bronzes as they head for the feeding grounds. "I--yes," says K'del, drawing himself to his feet with a start. "We should go." He doesn't seem to have quite realised, yet. Bennath's mind shoots after Cadejoth as soon as he rises, a heavy hook setting into his chains. « She is not for you! » He warns the younger bronze firmly. Phara presses her lips together, her face a little paler than normal. "Call him back, K'del." Her voice is soft but there's no mistaking a command to it. That's about the moment when K'del works it all out: he looks like he's about to throw up. Breathing fast, he squeezes his hands into fists, concentrating so hard that he can't actually manage to respond to Phara - not immediately, anyway. Nor does Cadejoth manage words, his response to the blue one of pure need, want, desperation, tinged with the blood of the beast he has just killed. They don't want him here? Too bad! K'del staggers, grabs for the chair back in front of him. "He won't listen," he breathes, as if he's about to cry. "How do I make him listen?" Phara forgets the cards, forgets their beer. She lunges across the table for his hand. "Make him listen, K'del. /You/ are his rider." She looks around, paniced. A few of the riders in the bar are already making their way out, their eyes glassy, their motions stiff and distant. "How could you be so stupid?" she rails at him in frustration, yanking on his hand. "This isn't an option, K'del. Cadejoth /cannot/ fly Peirith." K'del, with eyes shut, his face screwed up in concentration, lets his hand be yanked, the fingers loose in her grip. "I'm /trying/," he wails, loud enough that there are now plenty of people eyeing the pair unhappily. "I didn't thi-- he wasn't /supposed/ to-- he's not old enough, Phara." Though that, at this point, would appear to have been proven as a lie. "/Cadejoth/. Stoooooop. Listen to me, damn it. /Listen/." "He's plenty old enough!" Phara snaps, annoyed. "Didn't your Weyrlingmaster tell you that much?" She draws him around the table. "You have to go," she tells him again, but this time 'go' isn't out of the Weyr, it's just out of the bar, away from the people. Bennath is still trying, the klaxon blaring, trying to gain the bronze's attention. « Listen to your rider, Cadejoth. She is not for you. You do not belong. There are others to chase. » "But--" tries K'del, again, fumbling, desperate for some kind of reason as to why this wasn't a completely stupid idea in the first place. "Where? Where should I go? Oh, /Cadejoth/, stop it." Cadejoth is all teeth, snarling at Bennath, and at those others who are trying to compete for /his/ queen. « She'll be mine. I want her. She's luminous and lovely. » /Others/? He doesn't want any others. Phara grits her teeth. "The Guest Weyr, K'del. Didn't they teach you /anything/? Did you listen to any of it?" Yeah, she's annoyed. She softens after a moment and exhales, closing her eyes. "Just... stay with him, K'del." Bennath is unfazed, remaining a solid presence, a disjointed and unpleasant jangling that continues to rage, working at distraction. K'del probably did listen, but by the way he moves, stumbling, nearly knocking himself to the ground as his foot catches on a chair, he's not really thinking properly right now. A wide-eyed glance gets affixed on Phara, then, with a gasp, he nods. "Sorry, Phara. Sorry--" Then, he begins to run. Outside, Peirith has hit the air, and Cadejoth follows. Bennath's distraction is not helping, and despite his ardor, the bronze can't quite block it out. « Leave me alone, Bennath! » he rages, trying to whitewash the jangling. « They can't have her! She /noticed/ me. » Phara runs after him, the ends of her scarf flying out behind her. People stop to stare at the stumbling bronzerider and his pursuer. Bennath gives an enraged bugle, fired by his rider's ire. The timbre of his mindvoice grows louder, a series of persistant pops and explosions and a high, unhealthy whine. « You cannot fly Peirith, » Bennath insists. « Yours will be Weyrleader, neither of you can go home. » Northeastern Bowl, Fort Weyr This section of the bowl is just as devoid of plantlife as the central portion, the sandy soil having been packed more solidly due to the sheer amount of foot traffic passing through. While there are weyrs located to both the east and west, there are very few toward the north. Toward the northwest would be the ledges for the junior goldriders, while a second flight of stairs leads up to the Weyrleaders' complex. A little to the northeast is the entrance to the hatching cavern, while an entrance to the living cavern is located directly to the east. At the opposite and distant southeastern end of the bowl would be the lake and feeding grounds, with the weyrling barracks and infirmary to the southwest and southeast, respectively. Through the tunnels of the weyr, K'del stumble-runs, managing to make it up towards the outside world surprisingly well, given his state of mind and unfamiliarity with the weyr. People, at least, clear the way for him, though there are more than a few disapproving looks. « I want her. I don't care. Go away, Bennath, you're not wanted here. » Cadejoth is a ways back, enthusiasm not quite enough to counter experience, particularly not with Bennath proving to be such a distraction. But he won't give up, either. Phara keeps pace with K'del, lagging back behind him but close enough to be there if he falls or runs into trouble. Bennath is equally stubborn, keeping up his racket despite Cadejoth's attempts to expell him. « You will care tomorrow. » The wind has come up outside, and it blows the cold air, making it sting the face. Phara slows to a walk now that he can't get far from her sight, pulling her collar up around her cheeks and folding her arms over her chest. K'del gasps at the cold of the outside, his unbuttoned jacket no match for the chill, though he doesn't even attempt to try and remedy the situation, not in his present state of mind. Despite the lateness of his arrival, it's pretty obvious which weyr he's supposed to be heading for, and, with one glance back at Phara, his eyes still wide, frightened, he takes a trepidation-filled step towards it, and then another. Finally, slowly, he disappears within. « I won't! » insists Cadejoth, his thoughts full of the queen, his devotion radiated through his thoughts, inescapably clear to Bennath, and without question, to Peirith, too. Above, throughout the course of the flight, there are moments during which it might seem for a moment that he has a chance - but they slip through his talons, and, long before the flight is over, he drops back towards the ground, outmanned. Nor is he the only one to do so, and the rider of this other bronze trips K'del, deliberately, as the weyrling tries to stagger free of the weyr. Phara turns away when he disappears into the weyr, trusting Bennath to continue his vigilance. She goes back to the bar before coming back out to the Bowl and leaning against the wall near the guest weyr, watching the sky though the flight has carried the gold and her chasers long out of her sight. She almost wilts with relief as Cadejoth returns, waiting for K'del to emerge. Her eyebrows lift when she comes around, sees K'del tripped. "Real mature!" she scolds the Fortian rider. A wineskin is thrust at K'del when he gets to his feet, her face set unpleasantly. As soon as Cadejoth has landed, Bennath retreats to let the bronze sulk, his duty done. The other rider scowls at Phara, then storms off. K'del, having landed on his knees, struggles towards his feet again, wincing. The wineskin all but hits him in the chest, given the way he's wobbling, but he accepts it, gasping for breath, eyes still as wide as they were when he went inside. "/Phara/," he breathes, before putting the skin to his lips and drinking, more as though he were drinking water, or something nonalcoholic, than the wine it actually is. Cadejoth's unhappiness is partially aimed at the blue, but as he retreats, the bronze hurtles, instead, towards the lake. /Fine then/. "I'm here," she assures him gently, reaching out to cup his elbow and steady him. "It's always the worst, the first time." The hand on his elbow gently pulls him away from the entrance to the ground weyr where already another brown rider is coming out, his lifemate spiraling in, exhausted. "How do you feel?" Though she knows the answer already, undoubtedly. K'del lets the skin slip from his lips, and then, slowly, lets himself be drawn away from the weyr entrance. "Like-- oh shells, Phara. So it's not always this bad?" There's desperation in his voice: he begs, he pleads. "I should go home. Before they kick me out or something. So /stupid/." He struggles to regain control of his breathing, deep breaths gasping, then draws the wine up for another long swig. Phara chuckles, but it's high and a little forced. "Oh, no, it's always bad. But you're doing remarkably well. You haven't jumped me, which is more self-control than I managed the first time Bennath went after a green." She swallows. "I'm sure Satiet will chew you out when she hears, so I'm not going to, K'del. But yes, very stupid taking a barely matured bronze to a gold flight and counting on him to resist." Her fingers tighten just a little on her elbow. "Are you in any shape to between? Do you want Bennath and I to escort you?" "Don't think I don't want to," says K'del, and, certainly. he's eyeing Phara with more obvious longing, now, except when he's eyeing the wineskin, which isn't going to last much longer at this rate. "But." Satiet. And probably Cirse. And, you know, the whole /world/. "Didn't know what gold flights were like. Didn't think it'd be a problem." Beat. Then, as a breath: "Shells. Don't know." Phara smiles, just a little. "More than you want to jump Cirse?" she teases lightly. "You clearly didn't think this through, darling. There are five other Weyrs full of golds, it was irresponsible to come to a closed senior flight. Didn't you think for a second what could have happened? If /anything/ would trigger his first flight, it was a gold. And if he had won, somehow? What would that have done to us, K'del? You just /don't/ know everything. You should have listened to people who knew better." Her jaw tightens. "Sorry. I promised not to, and then I did." Her hand drops away from his elbow and she looks away. "We'll take you. I have to cover my own arse now, in case somebody thinks I encouraged this." Mention of Cirse's name makes K'del shuts his eyes again, squeezing them shut for a few seconds before he re-opens them, looking, if anything, bashful. "No, don't apologise," he continues, his face setting into something more serious, and significantly less self-pitying. "You're right. Of course you are. I didn't... think." Her last couple of words capture more of his (admittedly distracted) attention than the rest of the sentence. "Oh, shells. No. No, they can't involve you. Wasn't your fault. Oh, shells, Phara, I'm /sorry/." He looks, once more, as though he's about to cry. Phara considers him out of the corner of her eye and sighs, slumping just a little. "I'm a big girl, K'del. Worry about yourself, and I'll worry about you too. Sound fair?" She reaches up, and it's a jerky, stiff motion to brush her fingers tenderly down his cheek, like she doesn't trust herself to be gentle. "Not entirely altruistic. Imagine if I want to see you again, I'll have to come to you. So I suppose I should find out whereabouts your ledge is, eh?" Probably, K'del doesn't even want her to be gentle, given the depths of his current self-loathing, but that doesn't stop him from leaning in to Phara's touch. Presumably, he'll accept the fairness of worrying about himself, because it's only the rest that he actually responds to. "Might harm your chances of promotion, here, being seen with me." But there's a nod, too: it's not as though he /doesn't/ want to keep seeing her. Above, it looks as though the flight is nearly over; K'del half glances up, winces, then adds: "I-- we should go." Phara shrugs her shoulders a little. "You might even be worth it," she says reflectively and then shakes her head to knock the thought away. "Let's go," she agrees, pulling her hand back as if burned. "Let's go get Cadejoth." Bennath is there, angling to land near the sulking bronze. K'del's head shoots up, at that reflective thought, but he doesn't manage to say anything in response to it. Instead, he nods, and, after one more pull on the now-empty skin, he begins the walk across the bowl, to the two dragons. Cadejoth lets out a keen; K'del glowers at him, and turns his head away. "Time to go home." "He'll get over it," Phara assures, looking across the bowl to the lake and picking up the pace. "Should be a good clutch, long flight," she notes, but it clearly isn't long enough. She redoubles her speed, practically flinging herself up onto Bennath when she reaches him at little less than a run. "More than time." K'del nods, though it's clear his sympathies aren't particularly with the bronze right now. He mumbles something inaudible about the clutch, as he, too, flings himself aboard. The bronze has taken a dip in the lake, he's wet, and the straps are, too, but K'del ignores this. He does, at least, manage to button up his jacket against the cold, as he glances towards Phara, nodding ruefully, then instructs Cadejoth to take to the air - if not very high, and very much out of the way of the other dragons. Bennath is in the sky like a bolt of lightning. He shares his destination with Cadejoth and disappears in clear airspace, as in a rush to escape before Peirith is caught just as much as his rider is. As cold as it was at Fort, it's colder at the Reaches, though at least not as late. Bennath waits in the sky for Cadejoth, soaring slowly over the Bowl at a shallow angle. Cadejoth appears in the sky above the Reaches a matter of twenty seconds or so, after Bennath - though it could well seem an eternity. At least he wasn't distracted enough to lose the visual. K'del sort of slumps, now more or less safely home, and Cadejoth leads the way towards their ledge, which is, at least, not very far away. Bennath hangs back of the bronze. His mindvoice is wary, sharp, when he asks, « Does yours want us to land, or will he be okay? » He doesn't give away anything of what his rider is thinking or what she would prefer, except for the sense that she isn't going home yet either way. Cadejoth is still fuzzy-minded, flickers of gold sneaking in and out of his chains, though he's calmer now that he's safely at home. He takes a moment before responding, reporting quietly, « K'del thinks he will be okay, but that doesn't mean he would not welcome the company. If she wanted. » There's that bashful note again, no doubt picked up by the bronze from his rider, who has already dismounted, headed inside. « Either way: he says thank you. » Bennath is silent as he reports this to his rider and then returns. « She would enjoy his company, » is his final reply. Almost boredly he adds, « She is not... unaffected. And she says he is welcome. » During this exchange, he has come to a neat landing, staying only long enough for Phara to dismount on Cadejoth's crowded ledge before disdaining the young dragon's company, a subtle rebuff for his bad behavior. What happens after is between K'del and Phara. Cadejoth assents to this rebuff, if a little mournful, though Peirith is already escaping from his mind. « K'del says she can come in, then, » he notes, watching after the blue with rapidly whirling eyes. Inside, K'del has pulled off his jacket, though it's cold, and he's only just managed to get the fire on in the hearth. K'del and Cadejoth's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr There's nothing particularly unusual about this mid-sized weyr, at least from first glance. To the left of the entrance is the same, low hearth typical of many weyrs at High Reaches, which keeps it snugly warm in winter, while in summer the high ceilings and stone walls provide a cool retreat. Opposite to the hearth is a desk made of fine, polished wood, with a comfortable chair that nearly matches, while to the back of the weyr is a double-sized wooden bed, also of a similar shade, as well as a simple washstand. A few glow lamps attached to the variegated stone walls provide light, as does a fine, oil-based reading lamp that sits on the desk, next to the stack of books and papers kept tidy with matching book-ends. The bed is made with fine sheets and down-filled pillows and blankets, all dyed in shades of navy blue, a paler blue, and bronze. Between the hearth and the desk on the opposite wall is a rug made up of neatly patterned blocks of primary colours, which sits not quite flat, as though something has gotten caught underneath. A set of straps hang from wall near the ledge, and, frequently, a jacket hangs from the back of the desk chair. Beyond this, there are few personal touches in this largely functional weyr. Phara unwinds her scarf, holding it like a dead snake in her hands when she walks in, looking around. "I like the colors." She says as she takes it all in, smiling shyly at him now and coming to watch him fuss with the fire. "Hm? Oh." It clearly takes K'del a minute to actually grasp what she's talking about, and even then, he sounds vague as he responds. "Mother made 'em. And my sister. Turnday present." The fire has been coaxed to a bright blaze, and, this done, he rises towards his feet again, turning to reach for her hands. His voice is still ragged as he says, squeezing (if she'll let him): "/Phara/." Phara smiles at him when he reaches for her, squeezing his hands back. An eyebrow lifts when he says her name, her grin widening. "K'del." It's that she squeezes his hands back that gives K'del the confidence to slide his hands up her arms, pulling her close to him. "Probably have some whiskey somewhere," he murmurs. "Or--" Or there's the bed. But he doesn't spell that one out. Phara goes easily into his arms, molding herself eagerly to fit against him. "Or--" she echoes, her voice lower, huskier now. Her hand slide down his back, tugging at his shirt to pull it up and expose skin. 'Or' it is. K'del needs no further invitation, the latest of his hesitance washed away under the obvious need he's been trying so hard to deny. His hands unconsciously echo hers, reaching to try and pull free her jacket, or at least pull it enough out of the way that he can get beneath it. He didn't manage to remember to put his gloves back on: his hands are cold. Phara sheds her jacket eagerly once all the buckles are undone, letting it fall wherever she stands. She shivers when cold fingers touch her, but then she's tipping her face up to catch his mouth in a kiss and she doesn't care anymore. Her own fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into her greedily, and she's not very gentle about it, either. K'del, returning the kiss, is as ardent as she is, his hands still fumbling to divest her of her shirt, her pants, everything he can reach, while at the same time trying to shimmy out of his own. By now, his need is too much for him to be slow about it: he begins to try and shift them backwards, towards the bed, all the while unwilling to let go for so much as a second. Phara isn't about to hinder him, and so she eagerly pulls him down onto the bed, kicking off her pants as she goes. Who knows where her boots went - she doesn't. "K'del.." she sighs into his ear, a smile curving her lips. "/Phara/," K'del returns, between heavy breathes, and before he reaches down to reclaim her lips again, as his hands wander. Not for long, though: now is not the time for long, lingering sex. It's frenzied and fast and far from gentle, but under the circumstances, exactly what's needed. |
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