Difference between revisions of "Logs:Unwitting Adoration"

K'del's Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

Rank certainly has its privileges, and among them are amply appointed apartments. The short flight of stairs from the Weyrleader's Complex opens up into the larger of two chambers, formally decorated and clearly designed to cater as much to important guests as the occupant's personal living. Old, but obviously expensive, llama wool rugs dyed blue-and-black cover the stone floor, leading towards the second chamber, the stairs, and the rush-filled dragon couch and ledge beyond it. A formal seating arrangement - a sofa and chairs, all blue-and-black - sits around a large, tiled fireplace, whilst along the other wall, a finely made, if now somewhat antique, desk sits between a bookshelf and a tall cupboard to which tack-hooks have been attached, riding gear arranged neatly inside. Two tapestries hung from the high walls depict overdone splendour for High Reaches Weyr, one a long view of the snow-covered bowl, and the other a hazy impressionist piece of dragons flaming over a springtime countryside.

The inner weyr, made up of a sleeping cavern and a private bathing area, is smaller and cosier and distinctly less ostentatious. An oversized wooden sleigh bed fills much of the space, the mattress piled high with overstuffed down pillows and comforter, their covers dyed in varying shades of navy blue, light blue and bronze. There's a nightstand on either side, both with reading lamps, and against one of the other walls, a tall, heavy wardrobe made from a dark wood that matches the bed. The bathing area is part of the same cavern, a folding screen shielding the toilet and slightly raised, double-sized bathtub built into the stone, and a small shelf holding toiletries, shaving equipment, and clean towels.

In the days following the hatching, Yuliye's made herself comfortable at High Reaches once again, reclaiming her suite of rooms as if there hadn't been the smallest hiccup in her prior diplomatic stay. As if. If only. So, it's only a matter of time before Crom's dark-haired niece has made her way up the steps to the Weyrleaders' complex, deviating her steps from a path that initially arcs towards Tiriana's weyr and instead finds herself in the archway to one far closer. "I hope you're naked," calls in the sweetened sultry voice, followed shortly by the curvy body the voice belongs to. Expectant that K'del is, indeed, present, Crom's once diplomat stands with a proprietary air just within the weyr.

It may have been only a matter of time, but there's an air of pleased surprise about K'del as the brunette announces herself, albeit one that, in the moment that follows, fades to a more smug amusement. Alas, though: he's not naked. Just shoe-less, shirt untucked, and sitting on the floor next to the hearth with a stack of paperwork that has been pretty readily dropped. /Company/ is more important than /work/, after all. "Could be arranged," he offers, managing not to sound /too/ hopeful, though he aims a bright grin in Yuliye's direction. "Welcome-- back?"

For a few moments, those dark eyes scan the room, starting with where the bed was her last visit, before training in on the source of the voice. Those delighted, very expectant eyes fill with immediate disappointment at finding a decidedly unnaked Weyrleader, but a smile is quick to rise to the occasion, dimpled about her cheeks as Crom's would-be heiress takes a few easy strides towards the seated bronzerider, so she might better drape her body across the back of the formal sofa. "Miss me, much?" is the question that's asked in a voice so utterly guileless that it's anything but and both question and the smile turned slightly hesitant are offered in the space between K'del and what can only be called a bad habit.

K'del rises up to his knees and pauses, as though torn between actually crossing the remaining distance and joining Yuliye on the couch... and staying right where he is. This whole being dressed thing? Yeah, he's definitely regretting that, too. "Course I did," is his answer, then, both hands wiped on the legs of his trousers. "Didn't know if you'd come say 'hi'." Beat. Then, more hesitantly; "Did /you/ miss /me/?" There's an arch of his brow, quietly questioning, as, finally, he draws himself towards his feet, though he ends up leaning one arm along the mantlepiece instead of /actually/ moving forwards to the sofa.

It's his own hesitancy that beckons a throaty laughter from Yuliye, the woman's head tipping back so the carefully messed arrangement of curls sweep down to the small of her back and those softly curved shoulders shake. With such movements, however small, it's an easy forward step towards rectifying the naked situation as spaghetti straps slip (unintentionally, really), and Aughan's niece leans forward once more, chest pressed into the sofa's back all prettily. If he won't come to her, there's a few other choice arrangements of her body she can test out in the interim. "Oh, my poor darling, there's no one quite like you to tumble with. I don't know if anyone thought to tell you, but I was quite pleased to hear you were Weyrleader once more. I kept thinking I would come to congratulate you in person, but you know," there's another of those shrugs that causes gravity or something to pull those straps down further, "The plight of the poor always need my attention." An arm lifts, the hand with it, and her finger crooks, as if to hook 'her poor darling' by his belt and draw him near.

K'del's eyes grow-- well. He may be only /barely/ a teenager, now, but, well. Some things may never change. At least he's making every effort to keep his gaze on her /face/. A big face. One that contains breasts as well as eyes and noses and whatever. So-- yes, as her finger crooks, he follows dutifully to settle himself on the sofa beside her, one hand reaching up to adjust that strap of hers - if she'll let him - as he says, "Ah, yes, of course. The poor." Lucky poor; that's what his tone says. "Glad to hear it. That you were pleased. That /someone/ was." Awww, poor little Weyrleader. He may be playing that up: the way he looks at her, all big eyes and sad-puppy-dog expression.

Yuliye rewards his play and ploy with rounded eyes of huge sympathy and a purse of her lips that's helped forward by a helpful push off her feet to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, which means other ample parts of her body become a lot easier to stare at. "Poor Weyrleader, so unloved. You /have/ missed my unwitting adoration of your body," surmises the brunette, sounding /almost/ pleased, until, "Except if you really had missed me, you'd have been out of those pants already." Passive-aggressive behavior, however teasing, only lasts so long with the Crom woman, and as she pulls away a wrinkle of her nose and scrunched face look to K'del. Smiles and sunshine, that's Yu. "Why are we still here and not there?" Maybe they can talk later, but months without sex with each other has to have a release, right? Right? "Afterwards, you can tell me how much better at this I am than Tiriana. Come on, K'del, before I jump you unbecomingly."

Right where K'del wants them, those particularly lovely parts of her anatomy. "I /have/," he promises her, firmly-- "I'm not allowed to enjoy your company /too/? The build up... that counts." But not as much. Apparently, having an outright invitation makes all the difference, because he's /all/ action after that. Except; "You jumping me is /far/ from unbecoming. It's /hot/." But so is the other way around. Hot /and/ sweaty. And full of emphasis, apparently. Later? Talking, sure.

"Unbecoming for a lady," is Yuliye's last, laughing protest. After all, what person who actually /knows/ Yuliye at the Weyr would think her a lady. Crom, Crom would be another story.