Logs:Out of Control
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| RL Date: 24 April, 2015 |
| Who: Ebeny, E'dre |
| Involves: Fort Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: A flight and a 'prank' pulled on Weyrsecond and Weyrlingmaster. |
| Where: Flight Weyr, Fort Weyr |
| When: Day 15, Month 8, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
| OOC Notes: References to sex. |
| Laurienth so rarely rises these days that it doesn't seem to ever not be a shock to her rider; never not a surprise, even if expecting to be surprised at odd, distant intervals. At least the irritable green has had the grace to rise in the morning and not in the middle of the day, though it leaves the stretch of that day as now one during which she's unlikely to be moved far from the brown who has temporarily managed to tame her. And, of course, with the taming of the lifemate comes the taming of the rider, neither known to go quietly in these circumstances, and while Ben continues to gasp for breath, still half in the thrall of her green's influence, she lets out a moment's sound - a quiet, keening thing that could just as easily be realised pain or ebbing pleasure. Wroth and E'dre had been in the middle of drills when Laurienth went up. The browns removal of straps and leap after Laurienth inspired a handful of other Hematite riders to pursue as well. This left the Weyrsecond snarling at his wingriders as Wroth pursued his weyrmate. The rest, as always, was a blur of his dragon's chase through the skies and his own actions within the weyr. E'dre always manages to ground himself first and so catches his breath with his face burrowed against Ebeny's neck. He doesn't move far when he does roll over and his first sound is an unsuppressed groan as his body protests his movement. Ben makes another one of those sounds when E'dre rolls away, but it's all he gets from her by way of any communication for the next two minutes or more, for she lies there with the sheets rucked up around her calves and her feet tangled in fabric, oblivious to the world and her less than demure state until Laurienth's presence lessens some and something more than need or fury can begin to break through. She arches slightly as she softly exhales a deep breath, the frantic rise and fall of her ribcage easing, and while she gropes blindly to free her legs and draw up the sheets, the greenrider lets her head loll to one side, so that muddy-green eyes can regard her weyrmate. E'dre's been quietly watching her and so meets her gaze with a softness to his eyes. He reaches a hand out to brush his knuckles against her cheek and pauses midway as he eyes his raw knuckles. "How'd I get these?" He blinks at them and draws his hand back to examine. He shifts upwards, grunting as he pulls himself into a seated position. He ignores any other marks he may have as he flexes his hand a few times. He finds it otherwise uninjured. He shrugs and leans down to kiss Ben on the forehead. "Are you all right love?" he queries. "That was... a surprise this morning." The sharpness of her responses still a little dulled, Ben takes in the sight of raw knuckles with a foggy, muted sense of alarm. "...Please tell me you didn't hit anyone," she utters quietly, brow furrowing in faint confusion. More abruptly now, she looks him over without any regard for any marks she's earned herself, asking, "Did /I/ hit you? Did I..." Do that damage? Somehow? Maybe she makes assumptions whatever the case, the beginnings of a spiral down into misery evident in the shadows that claim her features. Or perhaps it's simply the acknowledgement that follows. "...Every time she goes this long, I think I'm done with all of this. And then she goes and makes it clear that she can turn me into a raging bitch whenever she wants." "I don't know. Some of the Hematite idiots followed me. That pissed me off. I probably hit one of them," E'dre muses, seeming unphased by the idea of him punching one of his wingmates. He notes her misery and resettles himself back on the bed, reaching his hands out to grasp her and pull her against his chest. "Shush. I know you hate it. But I don't mind any of it. It's where we first realized we loved each other," he reminds her. He lowers his head to press his lips against the top of her head. "And for all those turns, it was this time that was always ours." He glances down at Ebeny and then around the room. There are chairs and a table that clearly do not belong scattered on the floor as they are. He hmmms, lifting his knuckles to look at again with a comical air. "Maybe I took on the table?" "I'm not sure that you should be calling your wingmates idiots," Ben murmurs distractedly, angling a glance down at her own fingers, which, save for a cracked nail, seem mostly intact. "It's not their fault if they end up getting pulled into it all..." She rolls over as he pulls at her, tentative while she has little idea where bruises may rise on either of them, yet she soon settles down and plants a palm down flat against his chest. "...When she was more regular, I had more control. Warning. I /used/ to be able to keep from marking you up," she says softly, regretfully. Given a moment to consider that, she has to admit, "Turns and turns ago." She lapses back into silence for a time, then quite deliberately misunderstands his wonderings and supplies, "Do you mean you took me on the table, or just decided to redecorate?" in reply. E'dre falls to drowsing, content with his wife settled against him and exhausted from the adventures of the morning. Ben's question startles the brownrider awake and his laughter is a deep rumble in his chest as his head tips back against the headboard. "I don't know," he chortles in his honesty, "maybe both?" His laughter subsides and he curls his fingers against her and tugs her closer in a one-armed hug. "I don't mind, you know? The roughness. You always worry so about it. I wish you didn't." He stretches an arm over his head and sighs. "Can we stay in here all day? I don't want to go back to our life just yet. Soon you'll be so busy..," he turns and grabs a handful of her hair to twirl between his fingers. "...If I have splinters, I guess we'll find out, eventually," Ben hazards, his laughter bringing a twitch of a smile from her. She drapes one leg over his as he tugs her closer, her head pillowed against his shoulder. "...I mind," she murmurs, barely audibly. "...I mind because I like it when it's happening and then I want to do it more, and I'm teaching new riders to do everything I can't manage to do. And one day I might really hurt you. Or someone else. I can blame her all I like, but if I didn't have that aggression in me in the first place, she wouldn't be able to do what she does." Closing her eyes, she tilts her head a little into the hand that moves through her hair. "...We could ask for some time. Go somewhere for a few days, before the new clutch." "I am not fragile," E'dre reminds her, "nor am I exempt from tussling with you during it either. I /like/ how it feels and I /love/ every part of you. You put up with my sorry ass, don't you? My babyfits, my grumpiness? My arrogance? At least I get the enjoyment out of your.. attitude change." He smirks and kicks his feet out of the covers. "We should ask. Before we lose the chance to go. Where would you want to go? The girls always love the beach." He begins to further pull himself from the sheets, moving to fully sit up. He eyes the floor and frowns. "Do you see my clothes?" He pushes up and begins to stomp around the weyr, scouring the nearest surfaces for them. "Those sharding /bastards/!" "I know," Ben quietly acknowledges, "but... it's different." How so, or why, she doesn't appear able, or ready, to go into, if she can at all. "And there's not a lot that I can do about it all turning you on," she says more dryly, smirk there and gone in an instant. She might be about to answer about the beach or where else, but she becomes preoccupied with settling back down amongst pillows and sheets, and gingerly rolls onto her other side to watch him, hissing a little as pressure is applied to her hip. "What're you talking about?" she question, frown half hidden in her pillow. "They took my clothes!" E'dre explodes, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he turns to face her. He doesn't seem to find any of it amusing as he stands near the toppled table with his arms folding over his naked chest to glower at Ben. "They have this new fascination with pranks ever since that incident with Sandstone. They /took/ my clothes." He huffs and stalks back to the bed to seat himself at the edge of it. "Hematite is completely out of control. I am so tired," he takes a breath and lets it out in a loud whoosh of sound. "A seven at Ista. That's what I want. And lots of wine. And good food." Ben is crimson against pale sheets, none of it owing to fear of E'dre's reaction, nor what might linger of dragon driven interest in her unclothed weyrmate, what he says of Ista forgotten in beneath immobilising humiliation that has her gripping fabric white-knuckled. "I... W-We haven't slept," she points out. "The only time they could've had to do it was when we were..." She swallows hard and presses one hand to her mouth, hot tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "...Then they saw..." This aspect had not dawned on E'dre until Ben shares the how of such a thing. He looks to her with widened eyes. "I-," he cuts himself off, his face contorting into a furious mask. Her tears draws even more fury forward and he looks to be holding his breath as his face goes from red, to redder, to nearly purple. He can't articulate beyond incomprehensible sputters of near words and fury-laced epithets. Somehow he manages to force out, "I will kill whomever it was." The tears spill when Ben abruptly throws back what of the covers are over her and swings her feet to the floor, shoving at E'dre to get away from the bed and the snaring fabric in whatever way she has to. "Your /stupid/ wingmates," she utters hoarsely as she scrabbles about for her clothes, pulling her vest and underthings on in a hurried whirl, completely oblivious to the irony of her being unable to summon anything worse than 'stupid' after all she's said of herself. She rights one of the chairs on her way past to grab her trousers and step into them, her jacket caught up and flung on, shirt wrung between hands that threaten to tear before she simply flings it out of the way. "I didn't- I can't," E'dre's rage has subsided enough to find words as he watches her. He stands when she flings that out of her way and moves to wrap his arms around her if Ben lets him. "I'm so sorry, it.. it was too far. I will find out who and punish them." Ben tries, for a moment, to be still when he reaches for her, yet she can't let herself be reassure or placated, and soon she shrugs her way away and goes in search of her boots. "What are you going to punish them /for/?" she demands despairingly, her features still flushed with embarrassment. "Do you even know how inappropriate it'd be for /you/ to punish them? It'd look like you're just angry someone else saw me-" She can't finish that sentence, a hiccupping noise gulped down. "It'd look /petty/. And ridiculous." One boot located, she steps into it and simply shoves the laces down. "I... I have to go." "Ben," E'dre reaches to try and hold her back, "Don't go. I'm..," he shakes his head, looking down at himself. His face contorts again. "I will see you at home. Later." He turns and stalks back to retrieve sheeting. He begins to wrap himself in it in silence. She shakes her head again as she deals with her second boot, her expression a discomforting mess of guilt of self-loathing. "It's okay for you," Ben tries to quietly explain. "You're a /man/. You're their /wingmate/. You'll get a slap on the back and few laughs and some crass comments, and it'll go away. It won't work like that for me, especially when they don't respect me in the first place." Such is the assumption she's always made about Hematite. "...And what if Cassie or Elayne hear them saying..." She can't face that either and turns to make her way out of the weyr and /away/ to anywhere. If she doesn't come home until near midnight, unfortunately Laurienth will be no help at all. |
Comments
Alida (01:07, 26 April 2015 (EDT)) said...
Awww! Poor Ben. :(
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