Difference between revisions of "Logs:Unintended Intimacy"

>---< Greenhouse, High Reaches Weyr(#2203RJ) >-------------------------------<

  A rustic and unadorned vestibule leads in from hewn spiral steps to a     
  refitted ledge, enclosed by limestone pillars. Sturdy wooden framework    
  captures elongated glass panes, tilted to absorb the most light during the
  day. The wash of heat from within, lush and humid, persists even into the 
  dead of winter; the air is heady with the scent of fresh-turned soil and  
  various flora.                                                            
                                                                            
  Long, deep troughs of soil line the inner stone wall, planted with an     
  assortment of broad, leafy tropicals - practical and decorative alike.    
  Fruit and vegetable baskets hang from rafters, optimizing space, tempting 
  in reach with a perpetually ripening harvest. A series of stone shelving  
  is devoted to flourishing, aromatic herbs and new green shoots; even the  
  softest touch releases a burst of savory scent from tender leaves. Amidst 
  the greenery, a handful of wooden benches have been scattered, making this
  a temptingly warm and secluded spot to sit.                               
                                                                            
  Shuttered vents serve to regulate humidity and heat given off from a small
  hot spring recessed into an alcove at the back; a secondary pool with     
  cooler waters siphons off to provide a constant, fresh supply for         
  irrigation. A small potting station nearby is cluttered with watering cans
  and gardening tools of various uses, with a wooden bin for composting     
  materials tucked underneath.                                              

 -----------------------------< Active Players >-----------------------------
  Dahlia       F  19  5'9"  sturdy, dk. brown hair, hazel eyes            0s 
  T'gar        M  21  6'3"  brawny, dark brown hair, blue eyes            1m

Dahlia hasn't bothered to open more than just the one glow at the entry to the greenhouse, leaving the plants to the natural darkness of the night. She's some distance down the rows, settled on her knees to look at some of the plants there more closely, her eyes long-since adjusted to the darkness. It wouldn't be hard to surprise her, but since her head turns regularly to look toward the door, it's obvious she's either expecting or hoping to expect someone.

Eventually, T'gar does show up. His hair is damp along with the rest of him under a loose shirt and breeches as he walks in. He pauses on the threshold, looking around the darkness before he calls out, "Dee?"

"Here," the sought calls in answer, rising gracefully from her knees to walk back in the direction of the bronzerider. She stumbles, just a little, along the way, catching herself and continuing on. "Hi Rat," Dee has a smile for him as she nears though it can barely be seen in the dark.

"What are you doing in our greenhouse?" Rat has to ask, and it seems to serve as his return greeting too as he closes the distance between them. It's clear that he's trying to see her in the dim light, his slight frown present on his own face. "I mean. Don't weyrwomen hang out in, I don't know, ledges or something?" There's a slight smile starting out, too.

"Yes, and we sleep upsidedown from them," Dahlia returns breezily as if she hadn't a care for the world. The dark seems to aid one purpose she has, seeing her bumping into him, a bump that turns into a hug quickly enough, a tight squeeze. "Looking for a hug, far from home. Thought you would oblige me."

"I knew it," Rat murmurs for her to hear, the smile growing in increment. "I've heard somewhere that weyrwomen turn into large canines at night, too." But then Dahlia bumps into him and it's instinctual that one arm comes up about her to steady her. When it turns into the hug, and she's close enough to - perhaps he can smell some of the alcohol on her since the hug is returned without thought as he prompts, "All this way for a hug? Something go down back home you want to get off your chest?" It's not imagined that his eyes briefly went towards what he could see of her chest.

"With teeth like tunnelsnakes," Dee tells him gravely once the hug is complete. "That's how the golds know who to take on the Sands. Only some women are well suited to that life." She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, "I wonder what traits a bronzerider has to have," no doubt of similar sort. She doesn't really aim to move out of his arms, but simply to lean back as though she could look up at him and discern any defining characteristics. There's a pause before, "Remember my mentioning how I lost someone? Another of his children just showed up in my Weyr. I've met a few, but it's never an easy reminder. Less with no warning. Better after Taeliyth's flight. I might have had a little to drink and then I just wanted to be away." She sighs, "I could use another distraction, Rat. How's this month of weyrlinghood?"

"Uh-huh," is all Rat says to those tunnelsnake teeth as he eyes her mouth. "I bet it's true alright. Weyrwomen are always looking to put someone in their claws, I hear. According to my friend L'rok, anyway, and he's been at this Weyr life for a lot longer than me. As for any bronzerider traits," there's a pause and a shrug to that. "Maybe you have to be some sort of asshole, or smartass to be one. Or have a temper." He nods when Dahlia mentions one of their previous conversations in silence, adding, "She's gone up already? How did that go?" before the last on distractions earns a droll, "I seem to be the official go-to for women looking for a distraction. Must be my lot in this new life, which is fine by the way. Asaroth gets to flame. There's lots of talk about mating flights. Only thing we're looking forward to is Betweening."

"Three for three then?" Dahlia teases, along with, "Then you must be good at it. Being a distraction." The goldrider purses her lips slightly, still trying to see his face in the dark. "The flight was wonderful. No notice, which was troublesome. Mirinda said at least I didn't have to deal with the proddiness, and Zaisavyth was fresh off the sands, but I worry about not having had signs. It could be a serious problem next time. Golds are territorial." She's frowning, but briefly. "If you'd rather not be a distraction for me, I could probably ask A'sran-- the clutchsire's rider-- but that means going back and--" That's a lot of effort. "I probably should've thought of him first, but I just wanted to be gone. And you have a greenhouse." A greenhouse. "How does Asaroth like flaming? Taeliyth was always a little jealous she couldn't do it herself."

"I'm not," T'gar answers on him being a good distraction frankly. "I'm just a man bidding his time, until he graduates." The words carry little humor to them as he looks away briefly. The smile returns though, quick and easy as he says, "I have to admit that I'm glad that Asaroth is not green. I don't think I could handle what you must. Asaroth tells me that Taeliyth pokes at him sometimes." Perhaps in response to the territorial comment. He shakes his head on what she says next - A'sran's name passing him with unfamiliarity - before he looks into her face and answers, "I don't mind you visiting me, Dee. I'd rather it be because you wanted to see me, not because I'm some convenience. Unless this is typical behavior of the Weyrs' women. If so, I'll take it for what it is. You don't have a greenhouse in Fort?" There's a quick snicker on flaming before he answers for his bronze, "You don't want to know the real answer to that, but it's enough to say that he'll do it all day if I let him."

"Oh, Rat," Dahlia sounds sad, "I'm sorry. No, you're-- I do-- did. I came for you." Her lower lip gets caught between her teeth for a moment. She shifts a little, as though to step back. "I'm sorry, this is coming out wrong." Her glance toward the door and it's single glow might mean she's thinking of going, but she doesn't, not yet. The rest will have to wait.

When Dahlia shifts, Rat loosens his hold further so as to give her space. He watches her with a slight intensity before he shakes his head once and states, "Don't worry about it, Dee. Everything has me on edge these days. Haven't really been good company," he works around his Bitran accent, with his jaw. "Look, forget it, okay? You're the one drunker than I am right now, and it looks like you needed someone to listen. That's not a bad role." He briefly squeezes her waist before letting go of her.

"Oh, Rat, no-" The words are so hard. They really are. That probably explains why Dahlia, with enough alcohol having passed her lips for it to be part of the taste of them, leans up and in to kiss him.

Rat likely doesn't expect that kiss, and perhaps it shows in the slight initial hesitation. That's brief, for the bronze weyrling tastes her lips with a strong arm wrapping about her once more to bring her closer. His kiss doesn't demand but explores in the dimlit silence.

Is it possible to be caught unawares by the kiss one initiated? Probably not wholly so, but perhaps partly for Dahlia seems fairly surprised to be kissing T'gar, tentatively at first and then, as she's not shoved away, less so. She's a woman of experience, though not excessive experience and the kiss tells that much, and the press of her body might say more about her desire in the moment. When the kiss breaks, she doesn't seek to back away, but rather stays close. "I didn't-- really--" Words. "Was that okay?" She manages something that makes sense.

Rat seems to detect those little things about Dahlia, and while his kiss is definitely not chaste, there's seem to be a control to him as well as if keeping himself from losinf control. The kiss breaks and she's there against him and he's staring at her face before words happen from her. In utmost serious, perhaps, "Are you trying to seduce me?" is given with just the barest of smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "That's why you came all this way, right?" All that aside, "I'm not sure....if I should be kissing a weyrwoman," he answers her a touch wry, "but I won't tell if you won't." Beat. "Didn't really...?" he prompts her now in the quiet.

"Didn't really mean to do that," Dahlia finishes, but she's smiling with a little shy embarrassment, letting that answer his very serious question. "I was just going to make friends with you. I was going to ask you to tell me about weyrlinghood," which she did, "and I did want a distraction. I wanted you, as a distraction. But since you're not very good at that--?" There's a little teasing there, but it's layered on top of her sudden shyness. Still, she hasn't moved. So perhaps even without her meaning to, she might have liked it.

"I didn't mean to do that either," Rat states wryly with the full knowledge that Dahlia was the one to initiate it. "Make friends with me, huh? Who says you can't? You must have hopes again at least," he notes, touching on a previous topic. "After losing so much." The plague. That she explained more of what she meant, the realization of it touches his features before he nods once and says, "Told you I can be an asshole. I can be whatever you want," he adds, teasing aside. "Unless it's something like an errand-boy. I'll have to charge you for that. Didn't intend to get all assholish back there. You definitely didn't deserve it."

"Tell you a secret?" Dahlia asks, looking up at the bronzerider. "The guy I lost could be an asshole too. Usually was." And she loved him anyway. "Can you just be Rat? And I'll just be Dee? We don't have to kiss again if you don't want." That may be a little self-conscious. "You probably wouldn't like to find out I've been lying to you all this time. About the tunnelsnake teeth," she manages a smile. "We could just be friends, if that's what you wanted. Should I go?" Some or perhaps even all of that might be the nerves talking, except probably the thing about teeth.

"Not surprising a secret," T'gar tells her, overly amused now. "Doesn't seem to cut it with Reachian women." Drawing Dahlia tight for a short moment for her words, "Why should I give up kissing you?" She opened that can of worms, after all. With a touch of a smirk, "You're lucky I have enough in me not to have you over one of these tables. I don't mind letting myself be seduced by you, Dee. That's if you can handle it. Or me." It's said so casual and lightly, slowly drawing his arm from her as he adds, "Rat and Dee. That's fine, too. We'll be fine. We're fine however we end up. I don't believe in limits." As for her going, there's a hesitation there before the weyrling says, "Probably best you do. Stay any longer and I will steal a kiss. And more." His gaze says it all, really.

This time when he releases her, Dee takes a step back, considering him. "You could show me your weyr," is thoughtful. "Not here because if we were found, I really wouldn't like to explain that back home, or to K'del." She looks briefly mortified and her hands come up to over her face, only then it proves that she's laughing. The idea of having to explain having sex over one of the tables in his greenhouse. With all that glass. "Sorry," she manages to say once the laugh has had it out. "I could give you motivation for betweening. I misjumped my first time. If you see that you don't and you get safely to the point of visiting other places, I'll show you our herb garden, which is what we have instead of a greenhouse, for now, and I'll show you my weyr. And more." Definitely more in the same more as T'gar means. "I'm okay, though. Now. With that. This. Whatever." Maybe. She hopes.

"I could," T'gar answers that on the heels of her suggestion. "Would K'del really mind it?" But then she's laughing and there's a snort of laughter from her as he steps back from her and looks toward the entrance. "It'd be nice to get out and about," he agrees. "Even get to see how a weyrwoman lives. Before the more part." Gesturing with his head towards the entrance, "That queen of yours can follow Asaroth up. I'm convinced I have one of the best views in the Weyr. Come on." Running a hand through his drying hair, he gestures for Dahlia to proceed him to the bowl.

Dahlia has only a grin for the first that becomes a more reserved smile as he continues. "A weyrwoman lives without privacy. I suspect if you wanted to visit the weyrwomen here in their homes that you'd find it much the same - a space to receive to give the illusion that there's privacy." She doesn't sound especially bitter about it, more matter-of-fact. "Even this. Someone will see my gold going to your ledge." That doesn't seem to bother her either. She precedes him as she talks, "She'd very much like to see your view. And we can hope she doesn't like it enough to bother Asaroth over much to make use of it when we visit." There's a dimpled smile for that. She walks briskly to meet 'that gold' in the bowl just outside the craft complex, mounting so gracefully as to suggest being a goldrider is what she was born to do, even despite the alcohol. (Grace is probably a benefit to outweigh the upside down ledge sleeping.) Taeliyth's flicker of moonlight through knotted branches. The branches don't poke at Asaroth just now, but that glitter of moonlight does seem to oops end up flashing across what might be his mental eyes. « T'gar boasts. Is it true? » One of the best views in the Weyr? She's understandably dubious. This isn't her Weyr, but she's something of an expert on good views.

"I doubt any of them would receive me," Rat tells her about his weyrwoman, amusement still as he leads her out. "And if someone sees you on my ledge, that wouldn't be a problem, would it?" He pauses only long enough for her to catch up to him, the weyrling looking her over before turning and moving on. Once mounted, he calls to her, "You're telling me that Taeliyth steals ledges. Right? She'd have to tussle Asaroth for his." He eyes his placid bronze before the young bronze launches into the air and leads the goldpair to their sentinel ledge. As for the bronze himself, he leeches some of the moon's light, darkness penetrating where light used to be as an image of the view from the ledge (at the best angle, no doubt) shimmers in Taeliyth's mind. In addition, there's a gruff and raspy « He boasts about everything. » Then he lands, giving the larger dragon room to do so as well.

Asaroth's Ledge, High Reaches Weyr

Turns of sitting out in the sunny open of this claw-marked ledge has bleached a pair of creepy bone chairs white. They sit to one side, just behind twin gargoyles, sculpted of stone to look like glowering watchwhers. These two figures, facing the sun, stand guard over landings and takeoffs from their vantage point; and at dawn and dusk their rough backs and raises claws cast long, eerie shapes across the ledge.

Sculpted Shadows Weyr, High Reaches Weyr

Inside is well-lit, well-ventilated, and well-worn. The rock has been smoothed into dull corners and careful steps that lead only a couple of feet downward to the living quarters once past the dragon's couch. The rider's quarters is delineated with a heavy piece of canvas across the open archway. Behind this makeshift door the area is mostly open, though there are several wooden shelves fastened to one wall. Chipped and forgotten cups and bowls rest upon them.

The sleeping alcove is to one side of the room, and while it's not really big enough for anything more than the bed within it, it does offer one unusual feature: a small, shuttered window that opens onto the ledge just behind those stone sculptures.

"No, it wouldn't." Dahlia answers him candidly, expression briefly more serious (though still smiling a little) lest he think this might be an extension of the shared good humor. "I'm telling you Taeliyth likes a good view," which isn't strictly the same and doesn't require the goldrider to do anything like wish the bronze the best of luck with dissuading a tenacious gold like Taeliyth. The gold's flight is easy, graceful, practiced. She must be a ledge-sitter in her spare time for she seems to have no trouble making a landing. Her small frame (though not overly small size) makes it easier to fit herself neatly on the ledge, neck beginning to crane this way and that as Dee slides to the ground to take a look for herself. She even closes her eyes a moment, smiling wide, as Taeliyth shares the draconic perspective of the bowl. "She wants to see it in daylight," is offhanded remark before she's opening her eyes to turn and find T'gar with them.

Once on the ledge, Asaroth gives study to each stone sentinel that guards his ledge (as if they themselves are alive) before he goes to settle on his couch with his gaze lingering on Taeliyth. Even Rat lingers a look at the night view before moving the drapery for Dahlia to proceed him in. Once she does, he moves to quickly uncover the glowbaskets about the place as he says offhandedly, "I've been taking my time fixing this place up. Isn't ready for company, but well, you're the first I've brought up here." Once the last glow is uncovered, he moves to stand in the middle of the weyr, watching the goldrider for her reaction to his place before he answers her last with a knowing grin. Meeting her gaze, "That can be arranged," he says, watching her. "The tour's only five seconds, but you don't have to leave."

Dahlia's an attentive tour member; she even has interested questions! They come after the soft but radiant smile she has for T'gar for the last. "She might not get to look her fill before we have to go. It will have to be early," there's some measure of apology there, "but that's probably best. I imagine your training starts early?" That's not a question for the tour though. Her eyes take in the weyr with interest and without judgment. "I'm honored to be the first. I like the openness," she makes gesture to the space. "Mine's a work in progress, too, behind the tapestry." His canvas hardly counts as a tapestry, but hers probably is a real one and that doesn't stop her from gesturing to it anyway. "What do you still want to do with it?" She's not just making polite conversation or being a good member of the five second tour, she genuinely wants to know.

"I don't need much sleep," Rat boasts, taking steps towards Dahlia as she explains about early mornings and training. As for what he wants to do with the place, he looks around himself as if visualizing it before he answers, "I got a better bed, but I want more furniture. A couch. A table. Chairs. Better shelves along the walls. Maybe when all of that's done, I'd like a punching bag off to the side," and he gestures which area he would want it before looking back at her. "Maybe once I see your place, I'll get more ideas," he tells her with a grin.

"My place doesn't have a punching bag," Dahlia tells him with a playful, winsome smile, her shoulders rising and falling in shrug as she steps toward him in turn. "You might find it wholly uninspiring," but she's smiling and seeking to slip her arms around his waist, tilting her face up toward him. "I'll need some sleep," she says then. "I have a standing breakfast with Mirinda and N'rov and if I show up too tired or too sore to walk straight, they'll never let me live it down, even if I am the youngest and entitled to some youthful irresponsibility."

"That's because you don't need a punching bag," Rat openly teases, angling a look down at Dahlia as she slips her arms about him. One arm draws about her waist as he moves his head close to hers, lowering his voice as he states, "Maybe you're inspiration enough, weyrwoman. I won't keep you up." As for sore? The answer to that is a rumble of low laughter as he tries to tilt up Dahlia's chin with a finger to angle for a hungering kiss.

Dahlia has a light laugh for the first words, and another for the rest, a sound that's silenced in the meeting of lips. Her hands move from their place around his waist to curl around his neck, her body pressing to his inasmuch answer to that hunger as her mouth makes. This kiss? Yeah, she meant for this one to happen and there's no holding back from the first or others that follow.

T'gar takes what he can, silencing much of her laughter with his kiss. Once the hunger starts, he doesn't keep it under control this time. Fingers move to loosen what he can of her clothes, one hand gripping her ass to him in the process to keep their distance close. He only breaks the kiss to draw his mouth to her exposed throat, slowly guiding them backwards toward his bed with an eagerness in his muscled frame.

If this had been in any way anticipated, Dahlia surely would have chosen to wear something that was easier access. Her pale pink blouse has too many buttons, but after the first few are undone, she helpfully tugs it free of her belt to draw it up over her head. She's as helpful in trying to do likewise with his shirt, though her hands leave that task in favor of helping with her belt and pant laces that must be more familiar to her fingers than his. Eagerness meets the same in hers, Dee easily losing herself in the sensations of the here and now. Maybe it's the Southern wildness in her blood that makes her smile so, that makes her urge him onto the bed, meaning to press him back as if she might mean to have her way with him.

T'gar is ever so helpful in removing Dahlia's clothes, his own shirt off and tossed without a care in the world. His body is that of someone who's seen lots of hard labor in his life - hard muscle with a toughness to skin. It's this hard body that he presses against her softer one before she has him on the bed, the man matching her smile with one of his own before claiming an even longer, heated kiss. Through it all, he gives as much passion that she can take, leaving himself flushed and panting heavily against her over tangled sheets as he buries his face against her neck to try and control his breathing.

While certainly not so hard as T'gar's brawny form, Dahlia's feminine curves hug a frame that was hard-won through turns of honest FarmCrafting work. Perhaps a little too skinny, a left-over of her struggle with the illness that claimed so many, she's still pleasing to the eye and seems to be pleased by what her eyes find. Her hands and mouth shameless about appreciating him, but not so much as to drag events out overly long, as pleased by the whole experience as the man beneath. Even as she seeks to make her breath more even, she turns her head to press a kiss to his neck, a graze of teeth communicating at once her satisfaction and perhaps suggestion of wanting more. "I'm glad we didn't wait," she manages after some moments, "until you've seen my place." There's something wry in her tone, but a shift of her hips gently says she means that as a genuine compliment. She won't keep him pinned though, letting them recover enough that she can then shift to laying on her back next to him, stretching out her legs one by one to free them of honestly earned tightness.

Finding more of his breath, hands coming up claim her breasts when she speaks, T'gar's about to answer until Dahlia shifts her hips the way she does and causes his words to stall and his hands on her to tighten. Once he could speak again, "Glad we didn't either," he says in a rough voice once he lifts his head to meet her gaze. "Though I can't promise I'll let you sleep if you move those hips again." His smile is infectious once she releases him (and he her breasts) so that she was lying next to him.

Dahlia looks at him with smiling eyes. "Sleep might be overrated," she murmurs, the temptation clear in the way she looks at him, openly wanting and wanton, but she doesn't move to touch him, perhaps that's the only thing that makes it still a decision that can be made instead of one that circumstance and feeling might make for her. "I'm sure I could come up with some kind of excuse." She thinks, "Maybe they'd buy that I tried a new ledge and it was too steep. Kept slipping down it while I slept." Upside down. A hand reaches for one of T'gar's, seeking to twine fingers with his for just that 'safe' bit of contact.

Watching her, "Mmhm," Rat says to her excuse, nodding as he draws a hand over her thigh. "A steep ledge. I reckon weyrwomen have some sort of freedoms where excuses aren't needed. Like," and he sits up some when Dahlia claims his hand, his fingers brushing over hers, "maybe that queen of yours was insistent on going someplace overnight that she likes, or, you have a hangover. The last one's my favorite." Head tilting a bit, "She'll be clutching soon, won't she?" he asks of her now.

Dahlia makes a little amused noise without opening her mouth, smile growing wider. "Most weyrwomen do," the goldrider concedes. "It would be easier if I weren't so reliable and good about being available for my duties. Easier if I didn't have breakfast with them nearly every day. They'll worry and I don't want to make them, no matter how much I might want to stay." She shifts a little to sit up to seek a kiss. Maybe it's also an apology. "It'll be a couple months yet, they tell me. The more egg heavy she becomes, the less happy she's likely to be. Less traveling then. But I don't really know what to expect. It's our first time."

Leaning forward to draw that offered kiss in, "Such a goody-goody," Rat teases with a nudge of his knuckles playfully against her thigh. "Well, we can't have that. Last thing I'd want is Fort's Weyrleaders showing up on my ledge, demanding that I stop holding their young weyrwoman hostage. As much entertaining as it would be. I owe you a trip to see your weyr, anyway." The last perhaps to that unheard apology, the weyrling not seeming put out in any way. He nods on hearing about Taeliyth, there's a grin and a, "Should be an adventure, at least. Maybe not a fun one. I'm told weyrwomen have to stay the grounded the whole time until those little buggers hatch. At least for you all, it doesn't have nearly as often as those with greens."

"I hear similarly. Though I'm told that it depends on the queen, how near she wants to stay to her eggs. Isyath, apparently, never cared much for being on the Sands and would rather leave the egg watching to the clutchsire. Taeliyth likes watching things, so that might extend to eggs, but hopefully Leczuth will be the sort to be helpful if she's not." Dahlia has a moment where she blushes though, "I'm not actually sure what the point of watching the eggs is. I mean, I know that the dragons know to turn them so they heat evenly and-- oh, that's probably it." She looks a little abashed for having to figure it out and that might be why she scoots toward the edge of the bed, leaving so soon? Perhaps angling to. "You should come visit though, once you're feeling good about betweening. Taeliyth might poke at Asaroth, but I'm sure she'd supply him a good visual when the time comes."

Before Dahlia starts to move, T'gar tries to claim another kiss on any bare part of her that he could reach before saying, "Dragons are weird." He seems willing to leave it at that, but must have thought better of it. "I don't know how Asaroth will be if he catches a queen. Not even sure how he'll be if he catches a green. He's not so friendly on his good days, but he loves to hunt. Maybe this Leczuth will prove to be the sort that will watch the eggs for her." Leaning back in his bed with a leisurely stretch, he adds in wake of the last, "As soon as I'm certain Asaroth won't kill me Between, I'll come visit."

Dahlia lingers long enough for that kiss to land on her shoulder, and she might've been up and dressing only she stalls once she's on her feet, turning about to give T'gar a look of what? "He wouldn't." A pause. "Would he?" « Would you? » It's echoed curiously by Taeliyth. Obviously she thinks it would be a waste. Dee looks back at the man on the bed and then brings both hands up to cover her eyes. "If I look at you, I'm going to climb right back into this bed and definitely be very tired in the morning." Not that she's moving.

"Leczuth?" T'gar echoes with a pique of interest. "Why not?" « Why would I? » Asaroth may not always be a prominent presence, but one can be sure that he's always listening. It's short and simple words, the young bronze clearly sending the impression that talk of eggs has no interest to him. Eggs can't be hunted, after all. Perhaps the queen would agree, of a sort. Catching her gaze, when she says what she does, of course the man gives her a little show in the stretch of his muscles, and in his hands slowly caressing down his body - just in case she catches a peek. "What you need is some strong klah," is his teasing suggestion, not making it easy for her.

Taeliyth and Dahlia have a shared moment of reaction before their different reactions are shared. Dahlia's is to laugh. Taeliyth's is to roll her eyes, mentally. They correct as Dee's hands drop away from her face to smile broadly at the bronzerider, "Not Leczuth. Asaroth. He wouldn't kill you between." The clarification is echoed for the bronze before Taeliyth's pointedly renewed inquiry, « Would you? » Though she didn't peek, the laughter, and the easiness here seems to draw Dahlia back onto the bed to crawl over to the bed and kiss him soundly. "Very strong klah," she agrees in a murmur against his lips.

Snickering at the correction as he aims a look towards where Asaroth would be, "I'm not sure he would do, actually," Rat admits with shrugged ease. "He has his own agenda. I think he's well aware that killing me means that he forfeits himself, too." There's a lingering pause, as if he's not taking the topic seriously before he gives a quick shake of his head and answers, "He wouldn't kill me Between." Asaroth sends Taeliyth his answer in the form of a scent - its putrification of it some indicator of a negative answer. If she figures that it is. When Dahlia comes forward, Rat draws his arms wide as if welcoming her back into his embrace - and his hungry lips. There's enough evidence to suggest that round two would be in session in no time at all.