Difference between revisions of "Logs:Christening Meara's Desk"

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr

Ringed by rough granite walls to all sides but one, this end of the huge bowl narrows from the even broader plain to the west, continuing the ever so slight downward slope toward the blue and green of the Weyr's lake and surrounding foliage. More open to sun and wind than the western bowl, but less frequented when there aren't weyrlings in residence, the bowl's grassy tufts keep the topsoil in place and thicken into a bloodstained meadow within the feeding pens that adjoin the lake.

At the base of the surrounding cliffs lie entrances to several caverns, including the dragon infirmary and the weyrling barracks: the former to the northwest near where the spires begin, the latter opposite to the southwest. Both archways are large and dark enough for any dragon to pass through, but it's the infirmary's that is haunted by faint smells of redwort and numbweed, as though over generations they have seeped into the very stone. To the southeast, between the weyrling area and the lake, there are a handful of structures built into the floor of the bowl, standing out amidst otherwise an empty space.

Quinlys has not been drinking, but it might seem that way: she makes it down the steps from the guest weyr relatively safely, but after that her path teeters this way and that, and that's only partially because she's lost her jacket and most of the buttons of her shirt have been undone. Olveraeth hasn't made it back to ground, yet, and the bluerider doesn't especially seem to be looking for him... though if she does have a destination in mind, it's pretty hard to tell right now.

Has he done this before? Z'ian takes his exit from the weyr at a brisk walk and then gets outside, taking the steps down two at a time until he encounters the weaving bluerider that's at the bottom. He has got her jacket in his possession and he's quick to catch up to her, reaching Quinlys and draping it across her exposed shoulders and arms before she can get too terribly far away. Breathless, "You left it behind." His hands linger on her, not retracting with the speed they probably should. There's no sight Tsanth in the bowl or coming down to it, perhaps having found somewhere else to cool off in the meantime.

Quinlys is, must be, surely is shivering dramatically in the wind and the night air, before Z'ian so helpfully returns her jacket to her. She half-spins to look at him, though since he's slow in retracting his hands (and isn't her skin soft?!), she's actually quite careful to make sure he doesn't dislodge himself prematurely. "Oh!" she says, with a sudden, brilliant smile, the kind that lights up a whole face. Of course, she's still shivering, which makes that slightly less attractive than it might be. "You're such a gentleman. Want to fuck?"

Premature dislodging is not something that she's going to have to worry about. Z'ian has one of those too, a brilliant smile and he's not shivering since he's still all bundled up in that heavy flight jacket. He flexes his fingers where they're curved around her shoulder, taking a tighter hold that gets stronger (so strong) when she makes that blatant proposal. There's a quick transition from surprised to indulgently pleased and he begins to draw her closer, "Absolutely. Where?"

Why is it not summer? If it were summer, one of the conveniently located bowl walls would probably do, or so Quinlys' abrupt glance towards them seems to imply. Ice, however, is a significant disadvantage, so she settles for being drawn closer to Z'ian, wrapping her arms lazily about his neck. "Good," she says, sing-song, pleased. "I... have an office. Did you ever want to do it in the weyrlingmaster's office?" Silly question, right? She nods her head vaguely towards the barracks, which are not so far away.

Sure, why not. Winter is really just a huge inconvenience for people who want to get naked and screw outside. Z'ian understands her, don't worry. His hands slides down from the top of her shoulders and press firmly into her lower back, fingers spacing out. "What makes you think I haven't already done it in the weyrlngmaster's office?" He responds, mouth curving dangerously as he glances past her to the other side of the bowl. "Lets go to your office. I want to see you on your desk."

"You bad boy," teases Quinlys, who seems reluctant to actually pull away from Z'ian and his physical contact; who seems, mostly, more inclined to press the whole of her body up against him, just to make sure he's not missing out of any of it. But: the office, and that desk await, and reluctantly, she pulls herself away. "It's my desk, and that makes it better." Because clearly he never did Meara. Or I'daur. Hopefully. Although there are assistants, and... that's clearly beyond Quinlys' brain power, right now. She grabs for his hand, and makes to run.

Not I'daur or Meara. Hopefully. It could have been anyone really, are all the doors locked all the time? Z'ian's smile is wolfish when she presses her body so wantonly against his, when she teases him it's even more so. He lets her take hold of his hand, tangling his fingers all up in hers. Does it make it better? Maybe. He won't argue with her now, definitely not. Perhaps he just doesn't have the mental fortitude right now to properly flirt and tease about it. Whatever it is, it's not stopping him from going on that run with her across the bowl to her office. And her desk.

All the tidy files that Meara left on the desk - that Quinlys left on the desk - go flying, in the bluerider's haste. She doesn't seem to care. Yes, there are actual beds in the other room, and though narrow, they might be more comfortable... that's completely not the point. The point is that Vrianth let them all down-- and this is an ideal substitute, naughty and perfect. It doesn't matter if he's done this before-- that was then, and this is now.

For his part, Z'ian very actively participates in the mess they create in the office. Without apology. Though when it's all said and done, he more than likely helps her pick the papers up off of the floor and put the place back together. He's not a complete animal. Not all the time at least.

Quinlys has no regrets, afterwards. In fact, she's as cheerful and upfront as ever, accepting any and all help, and - eventually - sending Z'ian off with a smile. "It was fun," she says. "Kinda hot."