Difference between revisions of "Logs:At Least Solith is Spared"

Questionably Painted Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

At the back of the weyr the cavern branches into two good-sized back rooms with a double-sided fireplace occupying the wall they share. The weyr even comes already decorated. It has an ornately carved bed and press in both of the rooms; the front area offers a polished rectangular table and six matching chairs, a set-up perfect for entertaining. Rugs are scattered across the floor, their colors bright and cheery to match the walls.

But oh, those walls! Some artistic hand has painted mural on every wall, filled with bright colors and bordered by mixed fruits and vegetables. The mildest murals are filled with exuberant scenes of dancing people, but most of them are of a more... questionable nature. They're certainly not the sort of thing any concerned parent would want their children to see, though they give the weyr a definite party atmosphere.

« Solith, my dear, » Rasavyth reaches with an oozy breeze that carries the delicate scents of spring. « My K'zin and I would like to invite you and your Telavi up to our weyr? Do say you'll come. » He entreats with a purr. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

So often, Solith can be so difficult to find, the flip side of that transparency of hers... and yet her name serves as an invocation of sorts, and Rasavyth's one of those to whom she replies more quickly when she does hear and desires to respond. So it is now, touched with a vibrant freshness that has nothing to do with autumn and all to do with pleasure. « Rasavyth! I will ask, and gladly. Soon? » She'd like to fly, however far or brief, and Tela certainly can't ride the broom which which she's currently sweeping out their ledge. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

« As soon as may be. If she were near the living cavern, he might appreciate some food. He was tired at dinner and did not eat much. » It's a suggestion though, not a demand and one of Rasavyth's devising, not K'zin's. « If you should like, when you arrive, we may fly together for a time? » He invites with amusement for her excitement to fly. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

That unusualness is added incentive, surely, and while he may sense momentary regret that she is not near the caverns... it's overlaid by a brightness that suggests that there is, after all, something to be done. « Soon, » Solith promises, just as some of that dust gets swept off the ledge. Tela, already making friends with her neighbors! At least they're quite a distance below, and with the overlapping ledges, sometimes it's hard to tell. The pair's arrival isn't anywhere near instantaneous, but it isn't as long as all that, Tela with a bright orangey-pink scarf about her neck whose ends flutter as Solith descends toward the nice large ledge. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

Rasavyth has ceased his couch-lounging and moved onto the ledge, crouched on one side to provide as much landing room as possible. It's not that he thinks Solith needs it, just that he's being polite. He warbles warmly to the green and her rider, waiting for the green to be ready to fly after depositing her rider. K'zin appears out of the tunnel to the inner weyr wearing fur-lined slippers and a pair of well-worn black sleeping pants. As he appears, he's just pulling on plain cream colored tunic, flashes of his washboard abs possibly visible just as for a moment before it gets pulled down over his head.

Of course it's not that. Not that Solith can't use the extra room, though it also seems that when she skids to a stop, quite a bit of that skid is on purpose until her dramatically-cupped wingsails at last bring her to that halt. It's enough that Tela's all eyes for her green, luckily for K'zin's modesty; the girl shakes her head as she fixes her buckles, afterward slipping downward and making her way towards the mouth of the weyr. Solith watches her rather than take flight immediately, for once, perhaps explicable by how Telavi checks with an amused lift of her brows, "Solith seemed to think we were expressly invited. If we weren't, you really should say so." Not that she looks at Rasavyth, or anything.

"If you wanted to take her straps off," K'zin's baritone is touched with a little bit of amusement, "You could stay a while. Let her fly without them." Not that it seems to bother some of the dragons to fly strapped or strapless. "You were. Both of you. Though, as I understand it, Rasavyth's invited Solith to fly with him." Hence his invitation for the straps.

And one of those brows tilts up that much more, Tela of course having to inform K'zin, "But that means I can't make a speedy getaway. You don't have any Rasavyth-sized trundlebugs in your weyr that I'll have to run from, do you?" Not that that slows her from petting Solith's head as the green pushes her narrow face into Tela's hands, only to keep pushing between them until her hands reach those buckles and the small sack that's attached to them. It's quicker work than it used to be to remove Solith's gear, if less quick than it would be if the green would only hold still or at least not shift enthusiastically at the wrong moment, but then the girl can wave her dragon back into the air and wander back to join K'zin. Provided, that is, he hasn't scared her off with trundlebugs or worse.

For all that they had just touched, Tela's thought verges on formal. « Have a good time. » But she's smiling. (To Solith from Telavi)

Solith will. (To Telavi from Solith)

"No, 'fraid not. We don't seem to have any pets of our own yet." K'zin jokingly bemoans the lack of Rasavyth-sized trundlebugs. "I promise to do my best not to say or do anything that would require a quick getaway, and furthermore that if a quick getaway becomes necessary that I'll stay in there so that you can gear her up in peace." That's quite a promise to make, but so he makes it. Once she's rejoined him, he's gesturing toward the inner weyr, his feet starting to take him that way. "My efforts should, I think, be helped by this not being an entirely social call. I find I'm less apt to put my feet in my mouth when talking shop." So to speak. He pauses, turning toward the greenrider to nail her with a sincere look. "I need your help, Telavi."

« In more than one way. » Rasavyth's excited purr laughs softly in his rider's mind as he launches off the ledge. He knows of the boy's plan to become a man. Once, it would have been information he would have extracted from his lifemate whether he was willing, or no, but now? Now the bond between them is deep. It's no longer a conscious effort to know K'zin's mind, to follow his every thought, to see what he sees and hear what he hears. It takes the man more effort, but that's a necessary precaution now, Rasavyth knows this too well. And K'zin? Sweet, simple K'zin simply accepts that it's more difficult to know his dragon's mind and experiences because he's not as clever as the beast. Patience, Rasavyth must tell himself often. Not too much too soon. Let K'zin learn the ways of the world that the bronze understands all too well. In time, K'zin will fully understand him and convert to his way of thinking. Tonight is a large step on that path, if Solith's Telavi will have him. To understand the motives of mankind, one must fully appreciate man's primal needs. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Really, Telavi couldn't have been genuinely concerned until K'zin starts in on actual specific plans for such an eventuality, but then she visibly slows and 'looks at him. No comment there, though her straps do jingle as she begins to loop them up more snugly. "How about you go on," and, still working, she spares a glance up and around at the neighboring ledges, "inside." Go on when they're inside, at least, and in the meantime she'll follow.

Her instructions seem to confuse K'zin, though it doesn't stop him from gesturing to the hooks that hold Rasavyth's riding straps, if she'd like to add Solith's there. "Me go inside? Shells, that was fast. Are you really making a quick getaway so soon?"

« Ras. » He might scold. But doesn't. K'zin has been with his lifemate long enough to know that such chidings are only a waste of his thoughts. Instead, « She mightn't want to. Making out in tunnels and putting up with being pawed by an inexperienced sometimes-moron are completely different. » He is not nearly as confident in himself as his dragon is in him. It has never ceased to surprise him (however pleasantly) when a woman responds positively to one of his advances. But, as Ras always tells him, « Fake it 'til I make it, right? » (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Tela does indeed, taking time to tweak those straps so that they hang with particular neatness, with no doubling over that might cause creases and later on breaks. It's very homey, really. The bag comes with her, only by now she's looking even more perplexed for all that her voice is easy and so very much more relaxed. "Yes, this is me, running away... right behind you. What is it, K'zin?"

« Yes, my dearest K'zin. Though I don't believe she will turn you down. Perhaps she might delay things, but only out of womanly whimsy. » The amusement continues to ooze through the rider's mind, silencing the doubts, bolstering his courage. It wouldn't do for the plan to fail simply because K'zin had too much doubt to make a move. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

K'zin starts onward and then blinks at Telavi's words as she follows him, glancing back as though to be certain she's joking and not just accidentally running the wrong direction. "Well, it turns out that Quinlys does have a sense of humor after all," Not that he was ever in particular doubt of it from the turns of vague acquaintance with the Weyrlingmaster, but the occasional grumbles in the barracks have painted her on occasion (by comparison with Meara) as lacking in that regard. "She left me a belated turnday present." He clears his throat. "She left me a silver thread. And a note with turnday wishes and telling me not to fuck it up. Only," Now he stops again, just inside the weyr proper and he turns to the greenrider, worry clear in his face, "I think I'm going to fuck it up. I'm pretty well behind. I was hoping you'd help me get caught up? Obviously not all tonight."

Of course she does, says the play of a smile across Tela's mouth, if not the listening noise that's actually audible; at the further news, her stride turns into something more like a skip with a quick, surprised, "Congratulations!" and then she's all smiles. Until there's that worry, and Telavi steadies, sobering. "I can try," she says. "Though you know Sabella... and E'sren, Quielle, they're the ones that kept me going. Are they expecting you to actually catch up, or are they just," 'just', "dropping you in the middle? I don't suppose she said if there were any others."

"Thanks. I think. I can't decide if it's the worst turnday gift I've ever gotten or the best. I'm not sure?" K'zin confesses, "The note wasn't explicit. But when have they ever explained exactly how you're to jump instead of just expecting you to do it?" He gives a little shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, I'll-- um, I'll ask Sabs and E'sren. Only, I think Sabs is still pretty mad at me. So... It's a little awkward." Rather than linger there in the entryway, he gestures to the table, "Care to sit? I've hot water if you'd like some tea or something?"

"At least you'll figure that out, sooner or later. How old are you, anyway?" Tela shifts from wry to light with that last, indulges in a little hop upon the dropcloth she crosses that's not particularly high, and gives the table a speculative look before settling down in one of its chairs. Of course, she also hooks her foot around the neighbor chair, beginning to pull it over. "I can see that." Awkward. Not that she's confirming! "Tea, yes please, and as I heard your larder was bare, I brought some snacks. You haven't gone back to not eating, have you?" Again there's that light tone, but she's not completely immune to the contagiousness of his worry.

"Yeah. Probably couldn't sort it out until it's over and done with anyway. Sometimes things are like that." K'zin frowns slightly, thinking of that sentiment's applications to other things, "Eighteen. Quin was a handful of sevens late with the gift. Though--" He trails off. If she were in his head, she might be able to see him mulling over whether or not the gift would have made his day that day better or worse. He doesn't speak of this though, instead, he finishes after a hesitation with: "-I'm not sure I would've been ready for it on my actual turnday. Been working pretty hard since then." He moves around behind her to fetch two mugs out of a tall cabinet. "You did? You might be my favorite person ever. No, I haven't." Favorite ever, his tone is adoring, so adorably genuine. Just because of snacks. Setting the mugs down, he turns to vanish into the bedroom, returning moments later with the teakettle with a towel wrapped around the handle, bachelor pad style. He sets it on the table, then there's the matter of actual tea. "I'm trying to make things better with Sabs. I feel really bad about everything, but the most I can do is just show her I'm not the jerk I accidentally was to her and never meant to be. How old are you, Tela?" He abruptly loops back to their first topic as he grabs the box tea leaf jars from another shelf of that same cabinet.

Tela's already started to rummage through the bag of holding she'd been holding, and out roll some unshelled nuts, a single smooth-skinned orangefruit that she stops with her elbow, and a few more nuts and slices of dried fruit. It takes more rummaging to get out two smaller bags, one proving to be jerky and the other sweet-salty crackers. Along the way she glances up, though, head tilted. Turnday. And then again, with a quick smile that leads to sticking a slice of dried Nabolese apple on her thumb, holding it tantalizingly above her head in slow, figure-eight waves as he moves by. The listening noise for never meant to be gets quickly supplanted by a laugh, one that has a hint of some unspoken joke. "Nineteen," still. "How are you going to do all this, though? The play's over... unless there's a sequel? ...but still."

K'zin's hands are busy with the box of tea when he returns to the table, so he simply leans and carefully nips the dried apple off its perch on her finger. Only when he's done chewing and has the box of little jars of loose tea leaves open (none labeled, of course) does he ask, "When's your turnday? And pick your tea, please." Then he's leaning over her a little, looking with interest at the various snacks that she's brought, a little sound of apparent approval coming from his throat as he catches sight of the orangefruit. "I'm going to have to give up my extra, extra lessons, and maybe cut down to only two work-outs a day." He doesn't sound happy about that, especially. He drops into the chair beside her (whether it was meant for him or not; perhaps she'd meant to put her feet up). "There are some extracurricular activities I simply won't give up. Like kissing a certain greenrider in the tunnels. Or wherever else." He did say that it was only partly not a personal call. He leans toward her now, brown eyes thoughtfully on her. "Tela, do you-- do you expect this to be--" He tries to find the right non-offensive words. "Do you want me to not kiss other people? Or are you fine with-- casual?" He chooses that as the right word to describe the alternative, whether it is or not.

There comes a flutter from the bronze as he soars about in sight of the high-flying green. A quiet reiteration that he doesn't feel it necessary to attempt to make such clarifications. If she has an unreasonable expectation, it is of her own making. It's unnecessary effort and a risk to the success of his plan. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Here they differ, as K'zin knows they do. Rasavyth is very smart, and his heart is in the right place, but more concerned with K'zin than anyone else. After all, there is only one K'zin and there are many anybody elses in the world. The rider hasn't been able to successfully convince the dragon that it is in K'zin's interest to care for others; he would feel badly if they were hurt because of him. It's a desire as equally selfish as the bronze's, and sometimes the dragon obliges him, but generally they agree to disagree. Unsurprisingly, K'zin hasn't thought overly-hard about the greater ramifications of Rasavyth's outlook. Especially when it is agreed that if it is truly important to K'zin, it is important to his lifemate. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Telavi doesn't so much as slow down the apple's path when K'zin goes for it, either, so his success meets with even more of a warm, pleased laugh. "Right near the end of the Turn," she says, "and before you ask, I had to share presents sometimes but they were good." As for the teas, she gives him a bemused glance upon discovering their lack of labels, but willingly unlids each jar in turn after shaking its contents so she can sniff them. The first gets rapidly set to one side, though it might not yet be clear whether that's because it's a yes or a no. And yes, she'd meant to put her feet up, but perhaps she can tangle her feet with his instead, particularly given the priorities he's listing. Or... not, or not for long, because moments later she's sitting up. "K'zin," Tela protests, reaching for one of his hands with one of hers. "I haven't even figured out the tea."

"Can't you multitask?" K'zin's baritone half-teases the greenrider, "I thought women were supposed to be good at that kind of thing." He watches her fingers as they progress through the tea choices. "What day and month?" He presses further, presumably so he can be appropriately prepared as they're not so many months from the end of the turn.

If Tela were actually crushing the tea with her fingers to better release its scent, something she'd earlier looked quite tempted to do, she'd be flicking some of it at K'zin right now. As it is, she's flicking air. Take that! "Now you owe me yours," she warns ominously. "Thirteenth month, thirteenth day. Pretty convenient that way, don't you think?" With that, she gets back to tea-exploration, this one a green with bits of... she sniffs, tilts it, looks again. Bits of puffed rivergrain, looks like, but she tilts it back and forth a few more times before finally setting it to the other side without explanation.

"Thirteen thirteen." K'zin echoes, etching the date to memory. Then he's leaning back in his chair, looking thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "Well, that's one question answered," He taps his finger on the tabletop, one then the next, falling in succession to create a rat-tat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat-tat, and so on. "The fact you haven't answered the other makes me think that it's a complicated answer, or one you haven't thought much about?" He guesses.

"Your turnday," Tela clarifies for what's owing. "I'll guess month eight, but I'm not going to guess and guess for the day." Though she shakes the latest tea jar, a few swishing beats that happen to go with his tapping, in the end she sits back with it unopened in her folded hands. It doesn't quite mirror his pose, but her eyes do reflect his expression, thoughtful. "Wouldn't that put a crimp in your plans?" The way she says it, it isn't loaded, though she also doesn't look away. She just listens.

« She will wish to know someday. » The bronze speaks softly, knowing how touchy this subject it. « It is not wise to think that you can ask such a thing and never tell your own. You are very contrary about turndays, others' and your own. » (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Owe her? What? Turnday? What? K'zin glosses right past all of that as though it wasn't even heard or registered, brows knitting. "It might." He's willing to entertain it at least. "Not so much crimp as cause to change. Potentially." He purses his lips slightly, "I don't want anyone getting hurt by anything, if I can help it. But I can't know how to do that if I don't know what it is you're expecting or wanting." There's a pause as he sucks in breath, grasping his courage and pressing onward, "Because I'd like to ask you to take me to bed," A blush is lighting his cheeks now, "But I don't want to ask until I know I'm not going to fuck it up by not being on the same page with you." He stays leaning back in the chair, though his eyes have dropped to her face now.

« I will give her something else. Something that doesn't matter in the same way. » K'zin doesn't say it directly, but his meaning is obvious to the dragon: something that is not as hard for him. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Don't think Tela's forgotten. But by now, she's turning that jar around and around in her hands, a quieter swish now, more prolonged, like breathing. Slow, slow breaths. "I don't know... that much, of what I want. It's not like I've planned it all out, K'zin, not logicked it out, like those essays you got yourself into. I," only then she laughs, pretty much just as softly. "It's hard here, all these corners," not curved like the tunnels. "But yes. Ask me."

Her hesitance translates into sudden, uncharacteristic vision: a cavern full of furniture like that table, like those chairs, packed atop each other with every corner rigid. (To Solith from Telavi)

Solith doesn't blame her, even if she could, even air flowing more smoothly about curves. She doesn't worry. Tela will find her way out. (To Telavi from Solith)

« She will not like to think of you hiding things from her. It would have been better that you did not ask for hers. Even if you did want to know. » As he acknowledges his rider did. Rasavyth's next words carry regret. « Next time, ask me, and I shall help you find the right way to find what you wish to know without creating such vulnerability. » He can, he knows. Then, considering Telavi's next words... « Exercise caution, my K'zin. You do not wish to anger her. » (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

"I can't yet." K'zin's baritone comes quietly as he now leans forward, leans toward her, one elbow going to the tabletop. He's not so near as to really be in her personal space, but it's near enough to create a sense of intimacy. "You haven't given me a solid answer. I'm not asking you to know everything you want or don't want. I'm asking to know if I kiss someone else," He hesitates an extra moment, here as if deciding whether or not to elaborate and seems to decide against, continuing with, "-if I end up with someone else, if it would hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. But I do want you."

Not this again! Tela rises, sharply, though when that jar hits the table it's scarcely audible, it's so light.

It spikes Solith's mood too, only she plummets, air hissing off the tight vaning of her wings until... (To Telavi from Solith)

Tela pushes, unthinkingly hard. She needs to breathe. (To Solith from Telavi)

She rounds the table, away from him if also away from the exit, dragging in a deep breath along the way. When she turns back, it's with the width of the table between them, though then she leans forward with her hands flattened upon it and that reduces the distance even further. Quietly, "Listen. K'zin. I don't think-- I don't let-- It shouldn't bother me if you kiss someone else, if you do someone else," and maybe it's for his sake that she's softened the language between what he'd said and what she surely would have. Her voice has lowered further. "If nothing else, it would be hypocritical and I try, I really try not to do that. I can't cross my heart, hope to die, that it won't ever, I've never met a human who's worked that way for all that we really, really wish it would be that easy. All we can do is try and be straight up with people, try to leave them in a better place than when we started." And if only that had been something she'd always been able to, always wanted to do. But she can't be that girl, not anymore.

Solith drags her wings wide, leveling out, the lift of her narrow head tracking Rasavyth to make certain they'd not crash. From there, even her wingbeats are compressed, kept to herself. (To Telavi from Solith)

« Did I push too much? Did I ruin it? » It is a frequent occurrence that K'zin asks or Rasavyth offers insight into the man's interactions. If someone thinks K'zin socially clumsy or dimwitted now, Rasavyth and K'zin, both, loath to think how lost K'zin would be without him. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

The bronze is attentive, dipping when Solith does; his is controlled, careful. An errant current has him straying wide of the path he intended but a quick correction has him back on track. No crashing. When Rasavyth speaks, it is not to the green but to hls rider. It comes after swift but careful consideration, as always. It's not a cursory or brief assessment; if anything, it was deep and thorough, his mind simply works that quickly. « It is salvageable. » The bronze's words come slowly. « Do not press her for a straighter answer. She is likely as confused as you are about so many things. Allow her that. You may try to seek another, more clear answer later. She is, it seems, taking responsibility for her hurt should there become such. As you do, with yours. » (In theory.) « Ask her. Appear vulnerable to her now. » Rasavyth says appear as though K'zin wouldn't be vulnerable, but to lack vulnerability or to have guile enough to pretend he does when he does not are both skills the man has not learned. Have patience, Rasavyth privately reminds himself. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Apparently, the answer she gave suffices to satisfy what he wanted to know. "Fair enough." K'zin answers before his eyes fixes on an indefinable point of space. He take a deep breath and then pushes himself up and rounds the table, stopping beside her. His hands reach to gather hers up, his hands with his knuckles together and hers cupped so they're pointing toward the ceiling. His head bows as he brings them higher so he can brush his lips gently across them, depositing a handful of kisses on each hand and then lowering them and taking a step closer to the greenrider so there's not much distance between them now. "Telavi, would you take me to bed?" There's nervousness in his frame, a subtle tensing of muscles as he awaits an answer.

Was she bristling? Certainly her heart rate's skyrocketed even if she's controlled the rise and fall of her breaths, a flush risen in her cheeks. Blame the rug for the jolt of static electricity when his hands touch hers, the greenrider having straightened at his approach after the flat affect of his reply. Tela watches K'zin warily, doesn't strain against his moving of her hands but doesn't make it easy, either. the stiffness easing somewhat with that first kiss, with the next, until her lowering hands close upon the kisses he's laid within them. But it's still not all said and done, not even when he speaks, her expression singularly unreceptive. Even when her hands twist to capture his wrists, she gives so little away. No, she wants to say, and so, "No," is what she says. Except K'zin doesn't get to run off quite yet. Her grip is solid. "No," and here's the very first softening, "because my straps are here and my dragon is not, so I can't very well take you to bed." And here's more than the first inkling of a smile. "I suppose we might have to take each other."

Rasavyth was waiting for this. He is clever enough to see the patterns of her humor with his rider. As such, the ooze of his touch takes on warmth and comfort to blanket the initial hurt that seizes K'zin's mind. « She teases, my K'zin. Listen to her words. » As she speaks them, the bronze is filtering them showing the intended jest and the meaning beneath. It's obvious from his interpretation that Telavi had no intentions to say no. Or, at least, in the version of the interpretation he shares with his occasionally coltish rider; it wouldn't do to have him unnerved by the very real possibility of rejection and botch this after all the time invested in tunnels foreplay. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

The initial reaction can't be helped. But then understanding comes to him. It soothes his mind considerably. The feeling he feels next are not relief though (well, there is relief, it's just not the most notable), it's growing anxiety. He never expected to get this far! « What do I do now? » The orangey undertones of scent that cling to K'zin's mind start to grow sour with rot as his mind starts to give into panic. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

There will be none of that, thank you very much. The feeling barely gets breath before the dragon's stronger influence quashes it entirely. « You take her to bed. » His ooze buffets the man into action. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

No? His body jerks slightly - it's an involuntary flinch at the rejection. He's familiar with rejection, but didn't expect it from this quarter. K'zin's wrists are, however, held in Tela's and she speaks even as he starts to move to pull them away. It's the softening of her face that stills the action. Then his face is flushing bright when her joke becomes clear. "Faranth's fickle fangs, Teelaaa!" He complains, though the relief is evident that this isn't, in fact, a rejection. "Fine," He spits out then, "You don't want to take me to bed, then I'll take you." With that announcement, now that she's shown her 'might maybe' willingness, he's stepping into sweep her, literally, off her feet, carrying her immediately toward the bedroom he's chosen for himself and rather unceremoniously (though not terribly roughly) dumps her onto the bed only to crawl atop her a breath later.

There's a thump and abruptly Tela can't see anything but light. « Solith! » She's all right, better than all right, it's not like... It's all right. And then she can see again. (Telavi and Solith)

So that's a breath she'll have to catch or lose, and it turns out to be a good thing that K'zin hadn't abandoned leftover plates on the bed-- or maybe he'd removed them to put on the new quilt?-- because after a fractional moment he has a Tela smiling back up at him in the firelight without any cracked crockery, her cap rumpled and that smile of hers rumpled too, all mischief. Oh, she'll hook her booted feet over his ankles for safekeeping, but other than that... now what? What could he possibly do with her.

What could he possibly do with her. That is the question. For a brief moment once K'zin's sturdy form is braced above her by arms on either side of her chest. His expression is pleasantly surprised, as though he hadn't expected to get this far without her putting a stop to things. It must be okay, though, from the way that she's looking up at him and the way her ankles keep him locked into place above her. Then there's indecision. He's got her here. Now what?

It's strange how, now that K'zin's mind is so intimately melded with Rasavyth's, a question that would have once been meant for himself as a prompt to work out a solution becomes a question for them to figure out. Rasavyth's contribution to the solution comes in a wave of memories to remind him of the good times they've been having in various tunnels of the Weyr when a moment can be stolen. That, he seems to suggest, is a good starting place. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Well, thank goodness there's an order to things - an order K'zin is, thanks to her, starting to become acquainted with. He starts by lowering his head, brushing just shy of her lips to kiss her throat, just above the scarf and his finger wander up to aid in its removal, though really, once it's clear of her throat, his hand loses interest. Then he's moving on to some of her known favorites, interspersing these touches, kisses, and playful nips with clumsy attempts to disrobe her. (You try taking a jacket off a girl while she's laying on a bed!) Well, at least the top half of her. The bottoms? Well, that's a little intimidating for now.

Tela's smile just deepens through all this, his indecision, the decisons... or, at least, defaults. And yes, she even turns her head long enough to give K'zin better access to the scarf's knot, the inviting presentation of her throat not so purely incidental, and yes, he can feel beneath him how she melts when he does. But then, then, she has no immediate incentive to help with the disrobing, or at least not with her disrobing, not when she has the advantage of not having to prop herself up and can slide her cool hands up beneath his warm tunic: not to get it off or anything, yet, but just to enjoy the play of his muscles in reaction when she does. And she can't help but check, fingertips spidering about his ribs: still not ticklish? Really? Tela sighs, ever so heavily, and gives him a wide-eyed look to go with it.

« Why is she making it so sharding hard to get her top off? » Frustration radiates inwardly while the outer appearance remains intent, focused. « Doesn't she want this? » (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

« Eaaasy. » Rasavyth's amused purr is calming. « Remember what Cadejoth's K'del told you about women. You have to learn her. Learn what she likes. Try something else. Have patience and persevere. » (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

A boy can only try to get a girl naked so many times before it becomes a little discouraging. The mild frustration of it shows thought the looks of enjoyment that occasionally flicker across his face. At least once, Tela's hands find a spot and a particular way of touching him that makes his eyes shut and draw in a surprised breath. It's the look that does it, though. Her looking at him after he's had no success. K'zin's teen boy logic dictates that all this playing under his shirt must be a clue to get rid of it; and surely, if he's topless, she won't be far in following? Lead by example! He sits back on his heels, inadvertently making known by the tenting there the excitement all of this is bringing on, and he peels off the tunic, all his muscled glory there for her to see, well, from the waist up.

Mirth has the ooze glittering beautifully. « Not exactly what I had intended to inspire... » The unspoken remainder of his sentiment is that it should do and there's his encouragement toward more out of the box thinking. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

And after she's had no success, let's remember. Not that Tela's complaining when he gets to that tunic removal business, even going so far as pillowing crossed arms behind her head so she can watch better... which conveniently also makes her own blouse ride up somewhat above her midriff. Maybe she should think twice about starting to talk, and yet, she's been wondering: "Were you always... almost! ...never ever ticklish?" It's that low, curious voice of hers, pitched for his being just handspans apart with no one else allowed to hear.

« If she is talking to you while you are like this, you are not doing it right. Try something else. » Suggestions spring to mind, some from the pages of his well-studied guide book, and others from memories, not his own. Someone has been gathering intelligence, clearly. The images are sometimes vague, but there are enough hints to give him the idea. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

SKIN! He sees it! Breaking gently free of her ankle-prison, he slithers back, as his shirt is abandoned to the side. K'zin slides so that his legs are off the bed and he leans across it elbows resting on either side of her hips and face quite close to her stomach, where that little bit of skin could be seen moments before. His eyes and fingertips are starting to explore across that soft skin, and he "Hmms?" Barely having noticed that a question was asked, but then, it seems he heard it. "I had four older brothers that weren't easy to get along with. Being not ticklish was a matter of survival." But that's not as interesting as her tummy, which he now begins to kiss, right along her waistline.

All that slithering meets with an anticipatory wriggle, just because she can, and then Tela's wide-eyed and a touch breathless because, well. She didn't have those brothers. She does have goosebumps all of a sudden, though, that he might see right there. "Survival," she repeats, freeing one hand to steal down and play with his hair, wrapping the longer ends around her fingers so she can give it a bit of a tug. And his ankles are well out of reach, but still, she presses where she can reach all the same.

"Probably not the worst thing survival has necessitated for others. But such is the rough life of the fifth son of a pair of MineCrafters." K'zin's tone is rueful, teasing, though there is some seriousness is his talk of survival and what has been needed for others. As he talks, there's a curious feeling. One hand is still exploring across her stomach, while the other is... starting to undo her belt. Bold! Apparently, if he can't make explorations above, he's willing to chance a greater step.

"Mmm." It could be acknowledgment, it could easily be praise, but given what else K'zin's told Telavi of his story before, perhaps it's not a surprise that she doesn't remind him of it any longer than she has already. Not right now, because, "Keep doing that. But first... sit up?" Because Tela's going to let go of his hair, tragic though that may be, to reach for his wrists again, this time to try and slide towards him and sit up all at once. Which could, conveniently, make it that much easier for her to get her jacket off at the very, very least.

As she grabs hold of his wrists, K'zin obliges her want to be drawn up, flexing his strong arms and pulling her to a sitting position as though she weighed nothing. He then pushes off the edge of the bed where he'd been half-leaning, legs almost fully off the bed. He settles onto his knees between her legs and wastes no time now that the opportunity has presented itself. His hands are reaching to in the very least peel the jacket off, now that she's sitting up. She may have told him to keep working on the belt, but the jacket is a limited time opportunity, he knows.

"Priorities," and Tela may be teasing, but she's also helping, rolling her shoulders and lifting her elbows as needed to be freed. It's in good shape, that jacket, perhaps not originally so much but over the sevendays its seeming age has undergone a regression: the leather softened and reconditioned, the seams restitched as needed with a touch more tailoring added, contrasting thread used to emphasize those shoulders and the taper of her waist because yes, these things matter. Of course, it may not entirely be helping given how she's also just wrapped her still-booted legs about his hips so conveniently presented, and then the way she pauses as though just about to say something. But then, she leans in to kiss him instead.

« No! » Rasavyth's attempt to keep the question from K'zin's lips comes too late. It is these thoughts, these impulses of K'zin's that vex Rasavyth the most. There is never enough time, even for the lightning-fast mind of the bronze, to control it, school it, or quash it if necessary. A mental groan grates against K'zin's will, « Talking is going to get you into trouble. Don't ask questions, just focus on the physical. » (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

"What's wrong with my priorities?" K'zin questions, not terribly serious, so it's as likely that he's teasing or not, as she is. Leastways he's not over-thinking things at the moment. The jacket, no matter how beautifully improved it is, doesn't get so much as a real look. There's something much better to look at now. He doesn't seem to mind the placement of her legs, but his hands do slide down between them to go after that belt again. None of this, of course, stops him from returning the kiss, although a little distractedly. Kisses? Pfft. Old news.

"Nothing's wrong," claims Tela all too agreeably... and liltingly, because this is the same girl who uses that exhaled comment to make it easier for him to unfasten that belt with its simple carved-wood clasp, and also the same girl who taps him on the nose for his lack of focus. It's a soft tap, with the beaded end to one of the ties that lace her blouse, and just look how marvelously the ties begin to swing loose now that their initial knot is undone. Hadn't he said something about multitasking?

The ties swing, and so does Solith in that moment, felt more as intuition than true feeling: riding momentum in a joyous arc from one thermal to the next, until it lifts her high and higher yet. (To Telavi from Solith)

The man's mind had been anxious after his dragon's reaction to his asking, but now it relaxes. « That was good, though. It didn't hurt anything. Actually, it was kind of fun, and nice. Don't worry so much. Things are going well! » Or so he thinks, encouraged by Telavi's invitation to the ties. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Yes. Women multitasking. He provides further evidence as he is distracted from the belt, though it does get all the way open, in favor of this new and interesting thing he's been tapped with. K'zin's brown eyes rise to meet Tela's almost asking permission before his fingers move to start loosening that blouse even more with one hand, while the other slips beneath the blouse, sliding up across her stomach drawing the blouse up with it, now that it's been loosened.

They're met with her quick smile, her intent smile which is to say yes: do that. Do all of that. He'll encounter the wrap of further fabric beneath, fine and soft and protectively strong, and her hands tighten in response about his bare shoulders. Tighten, and flatten, and tighten up again. He has a waistband too, even if Tela's the only one remembering their track record with that. This patience thing, it's so difficult.

All? At once?! So begin the unreasonable woman expectations. As her hands tighten and then flatten and then tighten again, his fingers linger at the bottom edge of the finer fabric beneath. "Ok?" K'zin asks softly, voice a little thick with his ever-rising desire. Forgive the boy for not recognizing anticipation from hesitation.

So many unreasonable woman-expectations. At least, tonight, only one unreasonable-woman's expectations... possibly. The quickened breath with which Tela watches his hands on her clothes, on her, may not help his dexterity much, especially if he explores the tiny closures that might challenge even a smith's fingers. "Very," she remembers to say, a touch belatedly. And then she laughs a little, breathy still. "These aren't even one of my prettiest sets. If I'd known..." But then, if she'd known, maybe he wouldn't wind up unfastening them at all.

"They're-- nice?" K'zin seems unsure of the etiquette of this situation, "But I'm really more interested in what they're covering." Shocker there. Her shirt is pulled off so he can better marvel at the way her curves are supported just so. Then his brows dip and he eyes the garment as one might a worthy, but unknown adversary. He visually inspects, his hands withdrawing with the shirt that was stolen away and tossed to the side, first the front. Clasps, ah-ha! It's not the most graceful thing he's ever done as he scooches just a touch closer between her legs, still sitting on his feet. An intake of breath heralds his fingers' advance, to boldly go where he has never gone before! It's not long before his forehead is creasing with frustration. "Who the shells came up with clasps so tiny?! Did they ever expect to get laid ever again?" He demands in a tone that would seem too loud were they anywhere else but in his very large, very comfortable weyr, all on their own.

« Son of a watchwher! » The man's mind is buzzing with annoyance as he attempts again and again to wrangle the clasps into the open position. « Next time, I'm using a knife. » (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

One of these two is the seamstress, and the one more used to dressing for effect, and that one is not him.. even if Rasavyth's been unexpectedly thorough in redoing his wardrobe. Still, Tela seems first reassured, then wholly entertained as he begins to consider the demure challenge of engineering before him... and then, well, she's laughing. "Shush!" she scolds, moving her hands atop his to guide them. "They'll hear you across the Bowl," and she's still laughing but more softly now. "There's a trick. Here." She'll show him with the first, and then the second more slowly after habit makes the first pop open with near-supernal swiftness, a matter of placing a finger here while the heels of one's hands press there and then he doesn't even have to touch the clasp itself, the angle and slide of the fabric makes it open right up. "What do you think, senior apprentice exams? I suppose N'hax..." but maybe he doesn't want to think about N'hax right now, oops!

« Relax. » Rasavyth sends serenity to seize fumbling fingers and re-order their near-frantic attempts into order. « You are a Smith, K'zin. Use your brain, not your brawn. » (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

"What the--" K'zin starts, quieter now though, as the first clasp unhooks and then he's trying the second. It takes more than one attempt, but eventually it's opened (followed by any others that might stand between him and the promised land. He holds his breath a moment, his hands gently cupping around the fabric that conceals. His eyes are closed. And he just stays that way for a full thirty count. N'hax? Who's N'hax? Is there anyone else in the world tonight besides he and Telavi?

Long enough for Tela to lean forward, to press into his chest, her arms slipping about his shoulders again as she breathes his name into his ear. Even when K'zin lets go, the fabric might still stay, between them that way.

K'zin's eyes flicker open, and he tilts his head down, his hands slipping away to find that the fabric does indeed stay where it is between them. Damn it. "Tela?" He queries softly. She said his name, is something wrong? Worry touches his eyes as he looks at her.

So of course Tela has to kiss him, to make up for it. And if, when she stretches just so, that little problem is alleviated... that's not a problem, is it? Even if he can't yet see. With that kiss, she's smiling into those brown eyes, all but daring him to look down.

Every kiss is returned, the stretch is felt more than seen and K'zin's brown eyes flip down immediately: she barely has time to make the dare before he's taking it. "Do you not want me to see?" He asks softly then, his hands moving to her sides and sliding upward, stopping just shy and back down, repeat. "You-- you didn't want me to see in the baths..." See? He's observant, and he's putting things together slowly. "Don't you know you're beautiful?" Is his next equally soft question before he bestows kisses along her jawline and then down to her neck.

Warning tingles from the bronze: K'zin is talking again. He's already advised otherwise and is not about to let his rider forget it. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

If that's not precisely it... it's more honest as well as simpler to lower her gaze with a half-smile, to locate his hand with hers and suggest, with her touch, the guiding of the narrow, lacy strap from one shoulder. Even if that's not what he's looking at then either. "It's... a little complicated," Telavi murmurs, not trying too hard to piece syllables between kisses, and besides, that possible complication isn't what's important now, is it? There are fine lines on her skin, here and there, where the seams of her garments have pressed into them. Slowly, already, they have begun to disappear.

K'zin's hands are ever-willing to be guided; he knows he doesn't have a clue here. First one strap is slipped down, and then the other, but in this moment, there's something more important. Unfortunately for Telavi, it is that complication. "Well, it seems like we're going in the direction of getting a lot complicated... So before we go any further, why don't you tell me?" He sits back now, excitement ebbing, his brown eyes working painfully hard to stay on her face.

K'zin's attitude is frustratingly cavalier. « It will be fine. Besides, this is important. Something's wrong. » (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Because. Because because because she doesn't want to. And he stopped. A little frustrated noise escapes Telavi, but the greenrider lowers her gaze all demurely... to focus on sli-i-iding that first strap even further down. See what she's looking at? And then the second, with her other hand. And then, it only takes a little slow shimmy to slide the garment the rest of the way off', letting it fall about her hips onto the soft new quilt. She stretches, then, there in the firelight. So much better.

No, nothing's wrong! Rasavyth's mind pushes annoyingly. She's encouraging him toward the physical. Go with that! The sentiment from the bronze is encouraging of action, not speech. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

K'zin's lips pull into a smile in spite of his best efforts. He's trying to be serious, and trying not to look. Not to get distracted, but now there are things in his peripheral vision that are very difficult to ignore. "Telavi." He tries for stern, but the smile is ruining it, and he's clearly moments away from giving in. "Talk to me."

Maybe the tiniest bit more of a stretch, then, not quite a shimmy this time, Telavi oh so focused on sliding a finger beneath the brim of her cap so that it's visibly straining against the fabric. "K'zin," she murmurs, and glances at him through her lashes. Her dimples have begun to show. She keeps on sliding her finger, sideways this time, ever so gradually working the supple fabric off the shining, intricate braids beneath. "K'zin," a little higher, "K'zin'," higher yet, "...K'zin," and off comes her cap, to be nestled in her folded hands right in the center of where he might like to look. See? She's talking. To him.

He looks. He can't help it! Now there's something he wants to look at anyway and movement. He's doomed. Brown eyes fall and sounds for a moment like all the wind's been knocked from him. It's not that K'zin hasn't seen breasts before. Of course, he has, growing up in the weyr. But these are the first ones he gets to stare at, and maybe even touch! His expression shifts from amazed to smiling gently, the smile just growing larger and larger until it's a big goofy grin as he stares. But it looks like he might just look. Maybe he's still holding out for an answer. His body isn't though, the excitement that had started to slouch is back to standing at attention.

Relief briefly touches before the bronze is heightening the pleasure reactions in K'zin's mind. It's not that this really needs to be done, but the further distracted the man is by the pleasures of the flesh, the less likely he is to delve deeper into talk that might put an abrupt end to the liaison. It's a gentle manipulation, a whisper that in this moment K'zin doesn't even recognize happening. It just comes out in his brain as: BOOBS!!! (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Now Telavi's focused on straightening her cap neatly against its creamy-gilt background, her own eyes focused closely on her task. On the cap. Some few of the already-rare times when she takes her cap off, she arranges it like this, and twirls it around her finger... and she does this time, too, if just a few. What will K'zin remember, the next time he sees her do such a thing? That impish glance through her lashes again, that's her wondering. And then she leans forward, the better to circle her arms about his shoulders if he'll hold for that again, the better to brush that soft fabric against the back of his neck as she brushes gently up against his chest.

Oh, she can come brush up against him, but just as fast, strong hands are being placed one to side and the other to shoulder to gently push her back down to lying on the bed. Unless she makes some earnest attempt to protest, K'zin is claiming his right to explore the newly discovered territory. There's no grabbing, but his dusky hands slide up and over the contrastingly creamy flesh. If she has input to add, his hands will take the direction gladly. After some time, he's licking his lips lightly and asking with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "So... this tonguing thing that you mentioned once..." He could probably quote her the thought has been so well ingrained in his memory. "How?" His eyes haven't left those beautiful bumps, of course.

This, at least, is a question Rasavyth approves of. Helpfully, he flashes into K'zin's conscious mind those relevant passages from the book and a few more blurry memories, not of his or K'zin's own. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

That would be Tela's cap, disappearing off the edge somewhere, as laughingly she's toppled. Poor Telavi, with her boots still on! One arm lifts to crook behind her head, so she can watch K'zin better, her eyes that much more heavily lidded now and her body perceptibly responsive. Occasionally she might guide him, but most of the fun is his exploring, on her hand touching his as he touches her. "'...'Well," Telavi says with more of that low breathiness that's becoming so familiar. "Since you asked," at least those boots prove to be good for something, giving her purchase on the rug to arch up against him and thereby set an example. It mightn't be the same... but they'll both get to see.

« Where are you getting tho-- » K'zin's question is abruptly cut off and silenced by sensation. Convenient, Rasavyth admits, applauding Telavi's timing. Such a conversation is not for now, and not possibly forever. Oh, he could pass them off, he supposes... but actively lying to his lifemate takes far more effort than simply redirecting his interest. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

Boots shmoots. Who cares about boots (and dirt in the bed) when there are boobs! Right there! But really, it's Telavi who's missing the show. K'zin tenses under her touch, apparently sensitive there. Maybe not as sensitive as she might prove to be but enough so that he's having to move his hands so as not to accidentally crush her beneath him as his eyes close and little (manly!) noises are drawn from him by her lips and tongue. Eager to try his hand, or rather mouth, so soon enough, he's using his muscled frame to encourage her back down, his head ducking swiftly to try the task, as though he might forget everything she just showed him if he doesn't do it himself in the very next moment.

Fascinating. Oh, and add teeth to that mix, if lightly just now, little nips. He might even feel Tela smiling against his skin before she finally, finally agrees to descend. It takes forever, or close enough, like that moment's taking them right into the next Pass and out the other side. It's a tricky balance even once he gets there, too, between ticklishness and winces and yes, yes, that in a way that keeps rebalancing... and it's not impossible he'll feel her nails in his shoulder more than once, even after she wraps her legs about him yet again and more urgently this time because friction. Yet another concept smiths should be sure to learn about!

K'zin likely feels that he could stay there, doing just that forever. He takes corrections easily and works at finding the right balance. It's fascinating for him too. After a time, something about the way her nails find purchase on the surprisingly silky smooth skin of his back, and the way that her legs flex with greater need prompts him to catch his breath by sliding off the bed. It might seem he's going away. But no. He's taking up her legs, one at a time to finally solve her boot problem before the buttons of her pants become his next target.

Away. Away would be bad. This time, what had been a little frustrated noise more closely resembles a growl, at least until K'zin's going after her high, laced boots and Tela's made to hold still and watch. It's so hard to hold still. Her toes have to wiggle sometimes at the very, very least. It may be easier for the short-lived moment in which her expression's changed a bit, but if Telavi's speculating whether his little healer book bothers with details such as boots, much less socks... she doesn't ask about it now. And when it comes to the buttons, Tela's "You're not going to pop those off, are you?" should really stay a warning and not sound so much like a throaty invitation to do just that. If they do pop off, after all, she could be distracted.

K'zin's fingers hover over the buttons and consequently so close to other things. Brown eyes slide up to find her face, and his smile pulls to a teasing smirk, "Depends on if their as troublesome as those sharding clasps. And if I am, you're a seamstress, you'll figure it out." He winks, though before letting his fingers fall to the task. And indeed, he takes his time, being quite careful. At least buttons aren't so foreign as the previous foe. So much time that she might just jump in to help, as before.

But she doesn't, not this time. But then, for once she also doesn't move to make life more difficult, however tempting it must be. "If I can find them," Tela answers instead, her inflection not nearly as foreboding as it really should sound. Not with his smirk, not with getting to watch his hands at work like that, his focus. She waits for it, waits for it... and then she can help, a quick lift-and-slide-free that's careful to not bang her knees or any part of her, really, into his nose, abandoning her trousers in favor of a laughing retreat to bundle up the covers. Oh, K'zin might get a glimpse, but unless he's short-sheeted his own bed or those sheets are already too funky, she's sliding between them: the previously referenced live girl, between his sheets and smiling up at him. "Your turn." Tela nods to his pants. Strip for her! "Unless... you want me to take them off." Because she could, absolutely, do that.

« You have nothing to fear from this. » Courage is leant to the man for the action. How Rasavyth came to the conclusion that K'zin would be desirable to a woman without her clothes... well. Perhaps it's pure confidence borne of his adoration of the man. Unless he's crunched the numbers and conducted a comparative study based on K'zin's memories from the baths... He wouldn't do that though... right? (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

It's not as if she's never seen me naked, he tells himself. The blushing in his cheeks say that whatever else he's telling himself, it's not exactly helping. Nevertheless, he knew this was going to be awkward. It's a first time at doing something, first time at being purposefully naked in front of a girl. There's nothing for it but to do it, and so with a carefully drawn and released breath, he slides off the bed and drops trou, quite unceremoniously. And there he is. All of him. He doesn't have the sense she did to make a strategic retreat, so he stands for a moment, not knowing what to do with his hands, and they eventually settle on his hips. It's not much of a show, but then it's only the opening night. He manages to bring his gaze down to meet hers. "Alright? Can I look at you now?" All of her, he of course means.

Rasavyth has grown weary of issuing warnings that his rider will not heed. He washes his hands of the question K'zin won't drop. If his rider wants to ruin this, it's on him. Rasavyth has done his best. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

How had he imagined he'd do thissomething, with someone, anyone, someday? Here and now, Tela's gaze would be easier to intercept if she weren't quite so busy appraising the view. Appreciating the view. Enjoying the view, even going so far as to peek over the edge at his toes, and if the glint in her eyes when they lift to his is any indication, K'zin gets a style point for not covering up. But then they soften, her eyes do, and she promises, "Of course." She'll even sit up to the point of kneeling on the edge of his bed, taking his covers with her until the very last moment, when she lets them slide down at last... right before leaning to press a kiss at the base of his breastbone. A kiss, instead of ice, but the flick of her tongue has the intent to make him shiver all the same. Of course, he can't quite see all of her even glancing down her back, but that scrap of coral cloth she's still wearing isn't so very large; it even happens to match the blouse she'd been wearing... and for all he'd know, she matches them every day.

His eyes keenly follow her as she moves, not able to take her all in before she's too close. His expression puzzles for a moment. But only a moment, because then her lips and tongue are requesting reactions his body is all too eager to oblige. "Teeelllaaaa-" He breathes out her name. Similar to the way she once told him she liked hearing it, but breathier. There's a question he wants to ask, but he can't find the words. Not with her doing that. One of his hands slides onto her neck and up, but there are all of those braids. "Tela," He says, with a little more substance to the tone. "Can I -- can you-- can we take down your hair?" He asks this softly, uncertainly. Maybe she prefers it in the tight braids, but there's no good way to tangle his hands into it then as his hand seeks to do.

"Yes?" Tela breathes that out, lips delicate on his skin, and then breathes it just as softly back in before tilting her head back to look up at K'zin's face, doing absolutely nothing to avoid further brushing his skin with hers. At all. Quite to the contrary. "Please." In fact, "Pick a pin, any pin." Oh, she'll want to rest a warm hand on his hip for balance, but then she can illustrate this too, her fingers nimble and quick before offering that first little bone pin up to him for safekeeping. Some are bone, some are wood, all of them smooth and barely adorned.

All that brushing? Not helping his concentration, and a small whimper is elicited from him when she expects him to be able to function with so much blood focused anywhere but in his head. K'zin's hand does manage to cup to hold the pins she's drawing out though and his free hand goes to help pick them out, carefully. He did have long hair once, but he never did anything so complex with it as this. It's about this time that he's probably marveling over the number of things that women use that look like devices of torture. This distraction from the delights of the flesh, however, allow him to ask the question he hadn't been able to find a voice for before. "Tela, why don't you want me to see you? If you know you're beautiful..." Which he's said, thinking the last time he asked if she knew that it might be a self-conscious thing. Something is definitely up though since that, apparently, wasn't it.

Solith's flight is no longer so free, presentiment wearing like sandpaper at the trailing edges of her wings. She's not hurrying, not yet, but neither does she warn Rasavyth before she wheels, turning... turning back. (To Telavi from Solith)

« Stop talking and ravish her already! » Rasavyth can't help himself. Meddling in K'zin's affairs (intimate or otherwise) is one area in which the bronze has substantial difficulty sticking to his word. Besides, with Solith turning back, and he following, K'zin may not have much 'private time' left with Telavi. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

The man is relentless, and not, it seems, in the way Telavi might like most of all just now. As he continues to remove those pins, the fine braids of her hair begin to slip and then, gradually, to fall, starting to cloak the skin he'd said he'd wanted to view. Most have their tips bound by short lengths of fine leather, but some of those have come undone too, the plaits beginning to unravel about her. "I was showing you," she says, softly. She's looking back down, now, her pin-hand going to the back of her neck. "You asked and... and I thought I was. What more do you want to see? I'm here, K'zin, I'm not to be hung on the wall and... I showed you, you saw me, you licked me." And here, she'll lick him too, though not in the same way at all.

"Not all of you," K'zin murmurs as he pulls pins. When he finds the last of them, he turns and sets the pile carefully on the nightstand. A lick, just there would normally be a game over for his train of thought, but he's really, and truly concerned, and he thinks he might have hit upon the answer. Licking won't do her any good until they've sorted it out. "Hung on a wall?" His expression is confused as he turns back, eyes dancing to the inappropriate murals that surround them. "Oh, Faranth, because of those? I wouldn't--! Tela, they came with the weyr," He points out, moving to sit next to her, taking her hands up in his for a moment (regardless of what they had been doing before). "Telavi, this is between you and I. I wouldn't -- I wouldn't tell anyone, if you don't want me to. I-- this is for us. It's ours. It's not something to share with other people, I feel like." He seems uncertain, "It's almost like-- I think if I told anyone, it would be less-- special? Amazing? I mean, I like talking about sex, but I don't even really want to share this experience with Ras. Not-- that I get a choice about that one." He frowns, "By the way, he thinks I shouldn't've stopped us to ask, to talk-- He thinks you want me to--" He flushes, "Um, ravish you? I'm not sure he even understands what that--" The word means gets lost as his eyes bug out. "Oh, sweet mother Faranth. Nevermind. He knows what it means." Uncertain brown eyes search Telavi's face, "Is that what you want? I want to do what you want me to do."

Rasavyth is stunned. Then appalled. « She licks you, and you-- ! » Say what you said! The silence that follows is disgusted. Then his annoyance swells as his K'zin, the mind who knows him best doubts his knowledge. Ample examples flood into K'zin's mind then to show just how well he understands the concept. (Too well for any normal five month old dragon!) He might have been inclined to stop Solith's approach, but now? (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Claws meet stone and this time the skid isn't for effect, but controlled into speed. But upon landing Solith dithers, her fidgety footsteps high on the tips of her claws as though she really were walking on pins and needles. It was a large ledge, now it's a large weyr. There's room. She could go any which way. (To Telavi from Solith)

« Ras, please! » The bronzerider isn't asking for Ras to sort his mess for him, just to give him the chance to sort it himself. (To Rasavyth from K'zin)

The very idea that K'zin thinks he could fix it intrigues the bronze enough to ply his talents toward the green, though K'zin certainly owes him one now. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Don't. Please. Please don't. (To Solith from Telavi)

He turns away. He walks away. Fabric rustles, and by the time he's back, that quilt's rumpled about Tela's shoulders again, over her hair that he's just loosened and creeping upward like a hood. She'll let him take one of her hands, hers curled tight as the other one that's hanging onto the cloth, and after the initial sudden glance of surprise, every now and again as he speaks there's a tiny fidget as though she's been pricked by a pin. "It's... it was the drawings," she says finally and incompletely, making herself say it for all that what he's said afterward seems to counteract the necessity, only then... then, "He's paying attention?" That much attention?!

Suddenly, « You're listening. » (To Rasavyth from Solith)

« I am. » The bronze replies, his ooze lacking distracting shimmers to lend him a sense of transparency. It wasn't an active attempt to hide it from her. « I always am. » Quietly, thoughtfully, « You are not? » As though it were the most natural thing in the world. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

She stalks across stone, in the end crouching at the very edge of a wallow with her back to the wall, compressing her diaphanous wings across her body like a many-folded veil. « She needs room. » She says she does. Solith believes it. Solith knows the... Stillness. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

« She shall have it. » It is just that simple to the bronze. Whatever they need, they shall have. They have but to ask. The need is passed to his rider and he obliges. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

"Drawings?" K'zin looks confused. Drawings are different than murals. But drawings have been a topic of late, so he freezes, and then it's with guilty eyes that he finds her face. "Shit. You know?" About the drawings. "Shit, shit, shit. Sorry, sorry. I'm sorry." He sounds it. "I've stopped drawing people I know. I swear. Only made up people now. Or people that want to be drawn. I already fucked up a friendship over this. And it's really confusing because some people are flattered and some people are upset." He's up and moving again, letting go of her hand to move to his press. The top is flipped open and he's digging. Digging. Digging. He withdraws a notebook, flips through it, tosses it back in, and another, and another, and finally, he finds the one he wants. He flips the pages, his movements fairly frantic. He starts tearing out a page here and a page there until he has three in hand. The rest of the notebook is tossed back into the press and he's coming back to her with the Tela drawings held out to her. "They're from candidacy. And the beginning of weyrlinghood. I'm sorry, Tela. You can burn them. I won't do it again, I promise." And Ras? Listening in? Well, one pitfall at a time!

She knows. Look at those big eyes. "But," Telavi begins, only she's not about to interrupt K'zin in this. When he's coming over, "It's just," only this time he's interrupting her, or she interrupts herself, because there are these pages in her hand and she's tilting them to the firelight, to see.

K'zin's quiets himself a moment, watching her nervously, taking in her expression. "I really won't draw you, Tela, if you don't want to be drawn. You are beautiful, and I would love to draw you, but I won't. I just-- you get stuck up here sometimes," He points a finger to his temple, "And it's hard to get you out of my head if not through my pencils." It's sort of sweet. Then he has to go and ruin it by bringing up the other sore spot: "Ras... is-... trying to be helpful. He's just... well, nosy."

It might bother other dragons to hear themselves called nosy by their riders, but not Rasavyth. First of all he knows his contributions are usually valued (or if they are not at first, eventually, K'zin will see their merits). He feels no remorse or shame for his continued involvement in what K'zin's mind tells him without words is supposed to be an intimate affair! (BUTT OUT, RAS!) (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

Tela leafs through them, scanning quickly at first the way she now might treatises for class, only then the last one has her taking a sharp second glance and then she's looking, intently, and then up at K'zin in a way that's more as though she's trying to see him the way he sees her, in pencil and line and space. It's that, what he's said to her on the page, more than precisely what he says. "Hm," she says, unhelpfully. And then she's leaning down to tuck the pages' edges beneath the mattress, where they won't fall and get rumpled on the floor quite as easily, and disappearing under the quilt. Only, from the little cave she's made, she reaches out for him. "Come here." Underneath. In here, where it's dark.

This is a good sign, right? K'zin goes willingly, drawn in by the hand that caught his arm, without another word, though certainly all of her actions were taken into account. By now, with all this talk, the most visible sign of his excitement isn't very excited. But perhaps a few moments with Tela in this toasty, dark quilt-cave will fix that.

K'zin stretches out while he waits for the seals to be checked. And then there's a Telavi in his arms. He blinks in surprise, but the warm form of the woman is accepted readily, and he doesn't mistake this for a sexual advance. Clearly, if it was, her lips would be finding his--- something! Any part of him, really, would signal 'game on'. This doesn't feel that way. So his strong arms simply wrap around her and he shifts very slightly, so she can burrow that much closer. He holds her. Just holds her. For a few long moments before one of his hands finds her braids. It finds one that doesn't have a thong at its bottom and he starts gingerly undoing it pausing to stroke her locks, her back, her neck, gently. It's not a sexual touch, really. It's a purely sensual movement, just enjoying this moment, not pressing for the next.

« My K'zin... this is not furthering your cause. You should... » The tenor begins to advise, intruding once again. (Rasavyth to K'zin)

To Rasavyth, K'zin is finally annoyed enough with his meddlings to forcefully demand a reprieve, « Shut up! »

To K'zin, Rasavyth is amused, not offended. « As you wish, but don't look to me when you don't know what to do next. »

Tela's is a deep breath, drawn in and held all through her lungs, and then ever so slowly released as her ribcage relaxes with it, just a little, just the beginning. She breathes more naturally now. Something of its rhythm grows to be in accord with how he strokes her hair, and she shifts to interlace her legs with his and be closer there, too.

Solith sighs out a deep breath, a tremble of air from muzzle to tail. Tela might not even sense it, and the green does not importune. She only relaxes, a little more, in this place that is not hers. (To Telavi from Solith)

Solith is watched, there in the wallow. She is watched closely indeed. Quietly, a tendril of oozy breeze brushes toward the green. The offer does not come in words, but in a sensation. Would she like company, there in the couch? It is large, and they are not yet full grown. There is room enough for two. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

She might. They could... try. It's a whisper of distracted awareness. Sometimes... sometimes it's good to have a place to rest one's head. (To Rasavyth from Solith)

His slender, aristocratic build doesn't lend well to the look of snuggling, but it does to grace and the form of it. He drapes himself carefully, not in so much contact as to smother, just enough to be a pleasant presence. (To Solith from Rasavyth)

It's not a conscious reaction as only one part of him starts to stiffen in response to her proximity. Her legs tangling with his has his body thinking things his mind isn't aware of. K'zin's attention is devoted to his careful undoing of her braids, as he will move from the thongless ends to the thonged ones, pulling them off one by one and placing them on a bit of his chest that she's not covering over, and the tenderness continues. He's in no rush. The sense might even be that after the discovery of the drawings, if this is all that happened? He wouldn't mind.

She might not even notice, but if she does, she doesn't seem to mind. Her eyes have shut, a bare flicker of lashes against his skin, and the rhythm of her breaths lengthens. She might be asleep. Except, after a little while, she inhales only to delay with the exhaling, and then turns her head just enough that he can get to a part of her hair where he hadn't so much, before.

With her helpful assistance, K'zin's hands start on other braids. He works at them carefully, still interrupting his forward progress for caresses. Once he's got as many braids as he can reach undone (though there might be one or two holdouts), he settles into a rhythm of stroking her hair. There comes a little sigh from him, contented, thoughtful. What is he thinking of? Only Rasavyth knows.

Rasavyth is never too far from K'zin's mind and so as the man with his subtle scents of leather, forgefire, and orange peel lays with the near-naked woman, the bronze is privy to his riders private thoughts. He misses his hair, regrets that Rasavyth won't stand for it to be grown back. Telavi's is nice. Soft. He can see why she's going through such pains to keep it. Her body feels nice, against his. This isn't hot and heavy, to be sure, but he likes it. The drawings... what to say about the drawings? Bring it up again? Let it go. He'd like to draw her, he'd like to really look at her. But he won't make her uncomfortable. Is this a mistake? Does she not want to be here with him? It feels like she does, but maybe she's just too embarrassed to leave. His mind begins to wander, and a certain degree of drowsiness is borne of just the comfort of the position. (K'zin to Rasavyth)

Does he feel her smile? After a little while longer, she stretches, toes pointing out into the cold before relaxing again. And a little while beyond even that, slowly, careful of her hair and his hand, she turns within his arms so they're facing the same way. It might require a little wiggling to nestle quite right, and if there's not the deliberate intent to tease, neither can Tela be wholly unaware.

K'zin, to what surely would have been his ever-lasting regret, had started to get too comfortable with the rhythm, with the closeness, with the warmth there under the quilt. His lids had grown heavy, and he was on the verge of losing himself to sleep when she moves. Then there's new sensations. Including the sensation of very sensitive skin to very soft skin. He's awake. He can't help a soft groan of wanting as his arm resettles around her, pulling her closer to him. His hand then settles lightly on her breast and his fingers continue their stroking there, though now it's intermixed with the other gentle manipulations she's been known to enjoy.

Close is good. Close is Tela encouraging that, with subtle drowsy responses and then after a while, not that it might seem so encouraging at first, displacing his hand even as she dips her head: not so much to move him away, as to take two of his fingers into her mouth, not so dissimilar to what she might have done earlier if only he hadn't talked. His fingers are sensitive, aren't they? So is her warm, curious, curling tongue, if not the subtler graze of her teeth.

What's hap--oh! Oh! Oh! Well, isn't that an unexpected but oh-so-pleasant sensation as his fingers are put to a new purpose. With this kind of proximity, that he enjoys it is unmistakable. His hips shift instinctively and he presses closer. "Teeellaaa!" It comes as a desirous whisper to her ear as his face buries in her hair and then his lips find their way to her shoulders.

Who knew! "Yes... K'zin?" has the words interspersed with playful flicks, and yes, Tela presses right back into him. What a pity about that scrap of cloth that still remains. Still, it's not like it's chainmail...

Coy and teasing though she might be, she's woken the beast! Or, at least the passion in him. K'zin's abandoning the safety of the blanket-cave, throwing the quilt off their tops with one arm as he moves, seeking to roll her onto her back once again, fingers making move to steal from her that very frustrating slip of cloth.

But, but, that's, "Brr!" Only Tela's not so much grabbing at the quilt-blanket as grabbing at the K'zin-blanket to come and warm her back up, which may not be aiding and abetting the thievery a whole lot but, well, sooner or later. For all those wide eyes, the breadth of her smile is every bit as provoking as before.

The seeking hands almost draw him back, almost distract him from his aim, but no! This is important! Clumsy and awkward at moments, eventually: success! Then he'll allow himself to be drawn up, to be blanketed on top of her, even if there is a fire in the nearby hearth to keep the chill of the night at bay. He uses his forearms to keep from putting his full weight on Telavi, but there's enough for him to be firmly pressed against her and the breath he draws in is ragged as he gets settled to where there's no uncomfortable pinching or squishing of any body parts. "I want to..." K'zin trails off, eyes seeking hers, a mixture of want and uncertainty. Is this how it's supposed to go?

"'Come here'?" Telavi asks of him, or maybe it's directs him, eyes shining with mischief and not just mischief. She's got a free hand, she can reach down and help, maybe it really could be that simple. Or maybe he's wanting something else altogether, but either way, she can use his weight on her to lean up for a kiss.

He complies, moving with her direction to come as closely there as any two people can get. Like a hand in a glove, though who can say how the fit is. K'zin's whole body tenses as the new sensations hit him, a little shudder of pleasure pulsing through him. "Faranth's favorite femur..." This is mumbled mid-kissing, having gladly obliged the contact of lips as other contacts were made. Once there's nowhere more to go, he stops, lingering, lips lightly in contact with her. Does he know what to do next? Is he just savoring the moment? There's a pause that might seem too long, and then a little jerk of his shoulders pulls his head back and he adjusts up onto his hands for better leverage for his next and subsequent motions.

It is in that pause in which he is dumbfounded by too many nerves are trying to send too many messages that say the same thing: pleasure, that Rasavyth's tenor whispers in. Despite the bronze's earlier promise not to help. « Now is when you thrust, my K'zin. » (Rasavyth to K'zin)

And yet Tela's smiling up at K'zin as though he's absolutely wonderful and can take just as long as he likes... at least, until she can't seem to resist a playful inward squeeze to see how he'll react, and a breath later stretches to slide her hands up his flanks, up his sides, in tune with the inviting roll of her hips. Because no one ever said she was patient. And if that's not necessarily the smartest thing to do either... well, see above.

He might've been okay for six or seven repetitions of the movement of his hips. But then there's that squeeze on only the third stroke. Seems they went from opening act to an early climax! At least all the players were on stage in their places when it happened. Maybe he'll get points for that. With an unexpectedly strong shudder, he's collapsing on top of her. When he gathers his wits (which takes him a good few moments), K'zin's leaning back to gaze, red-faced down at Telavi. Look a mixture of apologetic, blissful, and embarrassed. "It's--... It's supposed to go on longer than that... right?" Is it intermission? Or has the curtain dropped for the evening?

It certainly doesn't help K'zin's embarrassment to abate that Rasavyth, too, is embarrassed. His dragon is embarrassed for him and for how he's representing himself as part of the greater Rasavyth-K'zin pairing. « Well, at least you know there's only one way to go from here... » (Rasavyth to K'zin)

Yes. "Eventually," remarks Tela airily, perhaps even enough to belie how her own cheeks are still flushed, that she's hooked her legs about his again by way of no, don't go yet. Not only that, but she peers up at K'zin through her lashes, bats them once or twice, and then says, "I hope you're giving me proper credit for being provoking." It's all her fault! That must be why she's so smug. In fact, "Kiss me again."

Rasavyth's surprise echoes K'zin's own. Their sentiments are the same: go with it! Now everyone is on the same page again. Well, everyone except sweet Solith, it seems. (To K'zin from Rasavyth)

(If Solith is attending... she keeps her own counsel.)

It's good that her legs had hooked the way they had, because K'zin was going to try to run away and hide. Or at least, remove the closeness of the moments before. "I--" He looks confused. It was her fault? She provoked it? "I-- ... yes? Of course." This must be the right answer since she fed it to him. Half the battle with women is to know the right answer when you hear it and know how to repeat it back. The next is, however, said with conviction, "You're too sharding sexy." It's a teasing gripe as he allows her to start to lull the embarrassment and immediate insecurity away. She wants him to kiss her? He does. "Maybe if we hadn't skipped some steps. I'm given to understand there's something to do with fingers and tongues a little lower than where we were using them." Again there's a touch of levity, though still lingering embarrassment. Then he's kissing her again. The talking got them into trouble before, no?

There are worse things to call a girl, especially when you're following her lead, and Tela's dimples show for a delighted minute. Even if they disappear when she wonders innocently, or at least mostly innocently, "Such as your knees? ...You were going to show me your little book." Except the way she says it, she's in no hurry, especially when he's distracting her right back and she likes it, because more kisses. No, no hurry at all. She's pleased. He should get to be pleased too, and so she goes about kissing and kissing him until it's all very natural indeed. Or until he distracts her more.

"Yes, Tela, my knees. Why, by the Red Star, didn't you stop to tongue my knees?" K'zin demands, in a voice flat by contrast to the dramatic words. But maybe it's meant to be all the funnier for it. "That book is not little. In fact, it goes into some pretty gruesome detail about the consequences of this kind of thing. And remedies for that..." He raises his brows as though to ask (you know, now that it would be too late anyway; good job, K'zin!) if she's taking precautionary measures, or if there might be a Telawakivizian in their future). "Actually, that's really not the kind of thing I want to think about just now. Then the kissing is set to with real fervor, the better to distract both of them.

And Solith? Solith rests.