Logs:Zezkaith's Third Flight
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| RL Date: 29 April, 2015 |
| Who: Euphemia, K'zin |
| Involves: Fort Weyr, High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Zezkaith rises in the midst of the pre-storm gloom in her third flight and is caught by another foreigner. K'zin gets a performance review. |
| Where: Flight Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 3, Month 9, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Barnabas/Mentions, C'ston/Mentions, J'ayn/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, X'vae/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Post-flight nookie. A little back dated. |
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>---< Flight Weyr, Fort Weyr(#2051RJs$) >------------------------------------<
This small, ground-level cavern clearly has one use and one use only. The
headwoman's staff keeps the place neat and tidy, but otherwise, the space
is very clearly set up for the sole purpose of flights. The bedframe is a
double, sturdy, but has seen better days, with plenty of nicks and
scratches in the wood. The linens are plain, undyed, cheap fiber, easy to
wash, easy to replace.
Several chairs, all of them of the repaired, second-hand variety, stand
against the walls and a table holds a pitcher of water and a selection of
chipped mugs as well as a bowl of seasonal fruits and another bowl of
nuts. The glows in here are usually a bit dim, older ones that have been
changed out of more trafficked areas of the Weyr but not completely
depleted yet. A small hearth also provides heat in the colder months, with
logs and coal both kept supplied for use at any time. It's a little difficult to track time of day by the skies at the moment, the dim, bleak greyness permeating from dawn until dusk, and so it seems of little matter to Zezkaith just when she decides to launch herself through the clouds, since she's not so able as she might be to find a nice patch of sun to soak in. In the end, early afternoon is her chosen time, her manner of leading a chase growing more steady the more practice she gets at it, and, this time, she manages to soar high and higher before being snared by any of her suitors. She once again manages to evade her wingleader's bronze, yet she's not destined to all bronzes, and when Euphemia finds K'zin, it's with very deliberate, single-minded focus, rather than a scrabble to avoid C'ston. Now, with the rush and the high and adrenaline ebbing, she takes the time to actually study him, rather than simply fixate. It has been a long, long time since Rasavyth has been seeking the attentions of a Fortian female. K'zin is seldom seen in Fort except when duties or personal business bring him there, but the bronze's attention is caught, perhaps just because the day is so dreary and a glowing green is far more interesting than anything else going on while he waits for his rider to conclude his business. It means K'zin is running when he arrives in the flight weyr, later than the other suitors, and in point of fact perhaps only just in time to be found by Euphemia, with no time for Rasavyth's usual in-weyr sassy antics. The bronzerider is only too glad to provide Euphemia shelter from C'ston's desires if it means wrapping her in his own arms and carrying her to the bed to swiftly disrobe them both and enjoy themselves along with their dragons. Sweaty satisfaction doesn't keep the bronzerider from finding Ephie's throat with his lips, and with obvious invitation to more even once the dragons are settled after their fall, Rasavyth's mind oozing his charmed contentment and satisfaction. Ephie is a little too busy attempting to piece together the lines of his body that her gaze can't rake over, fingertips tracing in a slow, meandering way, and that distant focus and otherwise stillness could be taken for willingness - certainly isn't rejection - especially when she tips her head back to grant K'zin better access to pursue his current line of invitation. It's distractedly that she breaks her silence and asks, "Which one are--" except maybe talking really isn't preferable to letting him continue what he's doing, and only after moments pass does she try again, with seeming reluctance. "Who're you?" she questions, words sighed out and easy enough to ignore. Zezkaith cares not for questions; she's too pleased and sleepy and content to worry about anything beyond the fact of Rasavyth's existence. The stranger has no problem continuing what he's doing. He pauses only briefly at her first attempt, but since the question isn't completed, he continues to trail kisses down from her neck across her collar bone. One of the nice things about the space between rounds one and two is that a little recovery is often required so there's no hurry in his movements, but definitely continued intention. Once she does get the whole question out, K'zin kisses only a few moments more before he manages to pull his head back enough that his face might be seen and he can smile at her. "K'zin. Hi." Then, "Rasavyth's, from 'Reaches." The bronze, though an intellectual beast at heart, is quite content to sit in silence, his mental presence a transparent ooze that shimmers here and there, that he might be 'seen' and thus be more reassuring of his attention here. He means to dip his head again, but only for a single kiss this time, to her shoulder, before he asks, "And you?" "We're going to get a reputation." Perhaps that comment is meant for her green, for Euphemia doesn't appear to actively note that she's spoken those low-voiced words. Maybe it's only the continued distraction of kisses, as she doesn't really make much more sense when she murmurs, "Ephie," and, "hers." Whose? There's no clarification, only her legs lifting to loosely and lazily encircle his waist - the best encouragement she can offer in the few seconds while she attempts to focus and finds no other answer but to curve gentle fingers to the nape of his neck to seek out a proper kiss, tentative at first, and then not so. "Brown, blue, bronze," she says softly, amusement colouring her tone. "An improvement on the brownrider. Wonder if you're better than the blue?" "Mm?" is a distractedly curious sound of inquiry to the first words, but the point isn't pressed. There are too many other good things to focus on in this moment, and K'zin's higher brain functions are probably not so much with it just now. "Nice- to- meet- you-, Ephie," is punctuated by kisses and even a playful graze of his teeth at the last. He's drawn easily in for a proper kiss, his lips accommodating of her tentativeness and then responding enthusiastically to the not so. He seems to put together enough of the last that she says to see this as a challenge, for he doesn't seem the least offended by the comparison, "I suppose I'll just have to give it my best and see." Then he's shifting with every intention of slipping the grip of her legs to put kisses to stomach and then lower, "Any direction you care to give," he invites without finishing the rest of the implied, though he'll likely manage to figure it out on his own in the absence of any. It's a little difficult to discern just what the tiny, high-pitched note that Ephie lets escape actually is, beyond the faint flush to her features that conveys what could easily be embarrassment for that near-squeak or rising desire as kisses travel lower. There's not the least bit of resistance from her, direction taken from him as she lets her legs unloop and feet plant on the bed before they create paths through rumpled sheets in the moments before she surrenders. Turns out that she's not so much about making demands in the direction department, but she's not short on encouragement, even brazenly vocal at times. Whether it's this that assures her or that turnabout is fair play, she does eventually find the confidence to reach, grasping hands moving with the intention of pinning him down to tangle all over again. K'zin is a red-blooded bronzeriding man. As such, there are no complaints about turnabout, even if he seemed to enjoy himself even before that entered the picture. At some point he means to draw her to a place where round two becomes a little more like round one in terms of what parts are where when they're done. K'zin has a lazily pleased wide smile for the blonde before he's shifting a little to invite her down into the curl of his arm. "That was fun," he finds enough brain to murmur and offer her the chance to dissent. Pliant in almost everything, here and now with the sheets and mattress marking a clear divide between one supposed world and another, Ephie lets herself fold down and into the curl of K'zin's arm, where initially her only commentary is closer to purring than the higher note(s) of before. "Would you like me to use the same word as a summative comment, or would you prefer a written evaluation?" she murmurs around a tiny smile, only half rhetorical with it. She goes still enough for a little while that it might seem that she's fallen right to sleep straight away, yet soon her hand ghosts across his chest and she adds, "Though I'm rubbish at writing. I could draw you pictures." "Well, I could frame a written one for my wall," K'zin seems to consider, but definitely not seriously given the smile he flashes her, "or a drawn one. If you get specific it'll go right with the mural on my bedroom wall." There's amusement for that too. "You draw, Ephie?" He asks it curiously, perhaps more idly than not, after all, they have recovering to do before he attempts to put a foot toward that other world. Does she draw? "Crudely." And she's not about to clarify in what manner she means that description of her supposed work, so says the smirk that momentarily sharpens Ephie's expression, her gaze tipped upward to seek out his for a fraction of a second. "Though I'm not sure if I should ask about the mural and whether it's your art or some diary of conquests. Or instructional. You know, like those diagrams etched into some of the cavern walls." She twitches one shoulder. "Not that I... guess you need diagrams." "It came with the weyr," K'zin answers of the mural, with a grin, "Funny you mention diagrams though, I did suggest once to a friend that we should put out a book that was less dry than the Helpful Healer's How To Guide to Mating," it's a real book, so says his tone. "Actually, there was more than just the one in the bedroom, but I sanded the others away to make more... universally appealing art." "'Mating'." Ephie echoes that word with a disdainful wrinkling of her nose. "I guess whoever chose that title hadn't had enough fun to call it anything else. Or just hadn't done any 'mating' of their own. Maybe they thought people should only mate every three months or so, like greens, or wait turns, like the golds. No wonder they had time to write a book on it." She exhales a quiet note of laughter. "Probably best to not have a weyr that either encourages people to jump you or embarrasses them into leaving." "I'd say, from what's in the text, and what's not in there, that the person was a holder originally and felt mating should be reserved for married couples only," K'zin's amusement answers Ephie's disdain. "But, you know, a clueless boy needs to turn somewhere to learn something." Evidently a girl wasn't the first source of information for him, though clearly at some later point he got enough experience under his belt to not need to refer back to the book. "Probably best," the bronzerider agrees of the latter. "I hope I didn't ruin any plans you had - for your flight, I mean, or cause you trouble with your boyfriend or whoever." This much seems to be honest, the words touched with concern, even if he doesn't seem in a rush to return her to whomever that person is, his fingers moving lazily across her skin. "Better than your parents trying to explain it to you." Simply commentary or Ephie's experience, the only giveaway is the sudden scarlet flush to her cheeks. "I don't plan," she sighs out. "I don't have a boyfriend. And my only wish is to stay away from the wingleader who seems to hate me, but keeps sending his dragon after mine. It's weird." She doesn't sound inclined to think more on it than that, owing something to youthful innocence or plain naivety. Slowly, she begins to move, pushing up from the bed to slip away from his touch. "You, however, probably belong to someone. You always do." Not him in particular, but... "I'm the fun. And it was fun." "..." K'zin looks toward Ephie, "Yeeeaaah," he can emphatically agree, even not having had the benefit of that particular experience himself; surely he can imagine the awkward. "Maybe he likes you, or wants to bed you anyway," the bronzerider suggests of the wingleader's behavior, but so casually that it seems he's not much invested in pursuing the topic if she's not. "Is he old and gross?" It's a fair question and asked in such an elegant way. He shifts onto his elbows and then up to sitting properly to watch her, though he doesn't try to stop her going. "I have... yeah. A girlfriend. Greenrider. She get it, with flights and all. Flights are flights, and after is fun." Allowable fun, it seems. "Pretty sure he's old enough to be my grandfather," Ephie declares, stretching her arms high over her head. "Which makes it gross even before you count him being a vindictive bastard." Such is her view of the man in question, anyway. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she sits there; listens to what K'zin says of his nameless greenrider. After a moment's silence, she insists, "I'm never going to belong to anyone," with an odd mixture of vehemence and overplayed brightness. This said, it doesn't stop her suddenly twisting at the waist, hands planting down in the sheets as she seeks his mouth with hers. "Gross," K'zin is quick to agree with honest sympathy, "And awful," he adds. "Glad he didn't catch then," for her sake. The bronzerider is pleased to meet that kiss with no intention of cutting it short. When it does break, though, he murmurs, "I wish you better luck with that than I had. I'm sure if you're more determined," than he probably was, "you can manage. And there's always flights. Which are fun, as long as they're not with someone awful. Even the old thing doesn't matter as much with flights," the last is said with some hint at life experience though he doesn't offer up details. Ephie clearly listens, a glance or two given K'zin as she collects up her clothing and goes about seeing that she's somewhat presentable to rejoin the outside world, but she doesn't offer any committed responses of her own. It's only when she reaches the arched entryway leading back to the bowl that she leans against the wall and regards him for another brief while, before remarking, "Better than the blue." The twitch of her lips isn't quite a smile. "Then, the brown taught me not to hope." Awkwardly, she fans out a hand in an odd little wave. "Bye." And off she goes. Her parting words provoke a laugh from K'zin; perhaps he'd even forgotten he was in contention for Best Flight Win of the turn. He lifts his hand in farewell. As for going himself? He probably had good intentions to get up and get dressed, but the bed is just so comfortable and the baby dragons have taken their toll on his sleep schedule enough that after so much exertion, he has to sleep before making the trek back to his home Weyr. |
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