Dawning (Lan)

Waroth was sleeping peacefully on her ledge, barely beginning to rouse as she heard the iron stir next to her. He was far away... farther away than she would have liked. Opening one eye, for once green with calm, she confirmed this fact and snorted with dissatisfaction. She closed both eyes and pretended to be asleep again as she very, very conspicuously shuffled closer to Kaezeth until their hides were just touching. Then the red dragon drew a deep breath and exhaled in a peaceful hum. Her lust for blood and otherwise satisfied, she was feeling quite leisurely and off her edge this morning. Besides, the iron was hers. She wrapped her tail possessively over his and nudged him with a rare good humor. 'Mine.' It was now a good-natured call to her lover that she had recently decided was most acceptable. All the ichor stains and dried wounds that lined her sides where his claws had punctured her flesh were not taken harshly, but looked upon as proud battle wounds. She didn't mind at all. Kaezeth was hers to claim, and she was going to keep that hold on him for as long as possible.

Meanwhile, her drowsing rider was just beginning to awake as well. Nimara's body ached and she groaned as she pulled the sleeping furs tighter over herself. Why was she feeling so chilled this morning? It wasn't comfortable at all. It took her a while to realize that she wasn't clothed. Why was that? Her eyes opened slowly, the weyr she occupied fuzzy in her sleep vision. She rubbed her eyes, yawning drowsily, and then peered with a great amount of confusion around the room. The first thing that caught her eye was Waroth's red hide, and then the iron hide of the dragon next to her. Odd. The anxious breathing that wasn't her own tipped her off, though... and all of a sudden the memories of the night prior hit her with such a force that sent her bolting from the cot.

She all but shrieked in realization of what had transpired, clutching the sleeping furs around her naked body as her eyes glared around the room for the man that had been not too long ago occupying the bed next to her. Hazel eyes locked onto him, cold with fury and appearing grey in the damp light of her personal weyr.

'You...' Was all that managed to escape her lips before she escaped to the other side of the weyr, hitting the wall opposite him before she slid down into a sitting position, much like him, head held in bedfurs and hands. She fought hard to control the emotions that raged within her. Fury, anger, embarrassment, disgrace... Hurt. Overall she felt hurt. Yet again she could feel herself slowly seeping into the anger that was left within her from the flight the evening before. Her very body felt like it might rip itself apart in her anguish. The redhead's breathing quickened into short, harsh bursts, clouding her head that was already foggy enough with emotions that usually didn't plague her. Logic was something that was fought for... and was losing in the fight. Eyes burned with the beginnings of tears, but she fought hard against them.

Things that weren't even apparent to her during suddenly were displayed in her mind's eye clear as day. There had been two irons that had chased. One had belonged to a renegade. Waroth had been upset and attempted to wound the dragon--Sjueth, she remembered. She remembered the man too. She remembered his cat-like grin and how he had stood so very, very close to her. But he wasn't the man that was here. No. This was another man. Kaezeth's rider. The one who had recently transferred to be wingleader after the dragon-versus-dragon battle. She couldn't remember his name, although she was sure she had heard it before. An intense desire came over her to chase this man away like Waroth had tried to chase away one-eyed iron dragon, but she held herself still. She wasn't sure how, but this time around she had a strength of self she didn't have after Waroth's first flight.

Part of her was still ever pragmatic and knew what she had to do. He was new to Dalibor. She had to be kind to him. She had to calm herself down. But the other half of her, quickly gaining power, was inhuman and ireful. The redrider felt like to halves of her were at war. Keep yourself... A voice in her mind urged. Meanwhile, Waroth was still peaceful on the ledge next to her iron-colored prize. Her post-flight calm still held, despite her rider's relative misery. Their minds seemed to be temporarily disconnected and the red was drifting slowly back to sleep.

'What's... your name...?' She tried her best to be civil, but her tone was hardly level even through the muffling of bedsheets draped over her face and arms. For the moment the pragmatic, stoic side seemed to be winning the battle for control, and it was exactly that facet of her temporarily complex personality that felt it best for introductions to be made.

Nimara was surprised by his sudden apologetic rant... he seemed just as hurt as she was. It sobered her up a bit, draining some more of the anger and self-conscious hurt that boiled within her. How was he hurt? She wasn't exactly sure how it worked for riders with male dragons, but she had always thought it was their decision to chase the female dragon or not. Perhaps, though, she was wrong. Perhaps he had just as much input as she had in how their dragons had reacted. It ignited an empathy in her that had recently been threatening to remain stagnant. If he was just as frightened as her... she wasn't quite sure what it meant. The redhead lifted her hazel eyes to stare into brown ones that were just as timid. The empathy and pragmatism that usually moved her now moved her once more, driving away the last bits of anger that had swirled within her although the fear and hurt was still there.

'I'm Nimara,' She replied, voice a bit more controlled as she fought to maintain a steady gaze into those brown eyes across from her, 'and you didn't hurt me.' This was a lie. Her body ached and she thought squeamishly she could still feel the last traces of him inside her. But it was slowly beginning not to matter. She felt for this man somewhat... for the hurt in his eyes that matched the hurt in hers. Not that she was overly fond of him, but she felt for him. She glanced away for a moment, pulling bedfurs tighter around herself as she shivered slightly (although not from the cold). Her eyes fell on Waroth outside sleeping soundly next to Kaezeth. The red dragon seemed so... content. Sound in her choice and in sharing her ledge with the iron that was now fitting so well next to her. It was not often that that crimson subqueen was so calm and, dare she say, happy. She hadn't even stopped to notice before during Waroth's first flight if her lifemate had been happy in her choice. She just woke up angry, and the red caught onto her anger, and together they threw the two offensive beings out of their weyr faster than they could even comprehend.

'You're the new wingleader... right?' She asked, hoping light questions and slight business would settle the mood. The conversation could have probably carried better were they sitting closer together, but she didn't feel quite confident enough to move right now. Her eyes didn't meet his again, instead staring at the stone floor between them. 'From... Fort?... High Reaches?' Being in the Weyrwoman's wing for so long and her recently frequent visits to the record's room had given her much more information than she otherwise would have known. She waited for his response, although another questioned formed in her mind. Now that Waroth's flight was over, there was still one thing that haunted her. Thread. Perhaps, being a wingleader, he could tell her more about the menace that they would be facing far sooner than comfortable. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to ask him. He would be leaving her soon enough, she thought, and he likely wouldn't want to speak to her again. Especially after she screamed at him. Once again she felt herself slipping into a bitter mood. Maybe it would be better if he just left her alone... but then again maybe it wouldn't. Her mind was still fuzzy with confusion and misplaced emotions.

Nimara gave a faint smile at his joke about "shardin' dragons", but couldn't manage a laugh. She didn't feel like laughing. It wasn't some laughing matter, this predicament she found herself in. With Waroth against her, and now not even paying attention to her, and with O'sho being officially labeled "off limits" by Fajra's outburst at them talking in the records room, the redrider had never felt so alone in her life. And now there was this ironrider here... and his iron dragon... and with Waroth just a red she knew they probably wouldn't feel inclined to stay too long. Then she would really be left alone. With Waroth returning to her angry self and all hell breaking loose. Why was it Nim was chosen to deal with this? Why had that ironrider all those years ago spirited her away to those Fort sands where Waroth had pinned her down and claimed her as her own? Why couldn't she have just not gone to that stupid Fort Gather and just continued along another trace? She felt herself slipping again...

'Don't be sorry,' The words came out as nice as she could manage in the new wave of self-deprecation that came on. 'It's not anyone's fault... It's just how life is with a dragon.' And now her voice had taken on this distant, unfeeling quality. Pragmatic. Stoic. This was how her world was and nothing could change it. Well, so far that seemed the case. But she wasn't mad at R'len, or at least not anymore. In fact, he might be just what she needed to get herself some slice of normalcy. Waroth was happy with Kaezeth, so she could let that dream last right? The red was content, not brooding or angry for the first time in a long time. So why couldn't Nimara be? She forced the what-ifs of the future to the side and looked at R'len. He was as good a man as any. A wingleader, an ironrider, and he seemed to have a good set of morals on him.

It wasn't a decision she fully made consciously. Perhaps something inside her snapped and she was merely just settling. You can't always get what you want, but sometimes they say you can get what you need. Well, Nimara needed something constant in her life that wasn't poison; she needed something that didn't leave her exhausted, like chores and cleaning up other people's messes or harboring feelings for the Weyrleader of Dalibor. So she took a stand, literally. Wrapping furs tighter around her she walked calmly across the room, eventually settling to sit against the wall beside R'len. Then she smiled, a little bit wider and a little bit brighter, with her hazel eyes meeting his gently and comfortingly.

'It's all right.' It was a strong statement, simple yet meant to encourage beyond just the meaning of individual words. Then she looked at where her feet would be beneath the blankets that enveloped her, daring herself to scoot closer to this man that moments before she had cursed the very thought of. If Waroth could be happy and content, then so could she. He seemed a good man, so she might as well get to know him.

'I'm the one that should be apologizing. Waroth's a bit...' She glanced toward where the dragons would be on the ledge and then to R'len before coming full-circle to the floor again, 'Well... she's a red...' While she didn't expect him to fully comprehend all that lie within the statement, she hoped he'd at least understand she was trying to apologize for any damage to Kaezeth that was caused, 'And I'm her rider;' And now she was apologizing for her melodramatic display. Nimara sighed, then managed to look back up at the face of the man she had spent the night with without any fear or sorrow on her countenance.

Outside Waroth hummed gently again, quite pleased with herself. She was happy. Her rider wasn't a wreck at the moment. All was right with the world. While she didn't know why Nimara could possibly feel the need to apologize, she didn't bother to say anything. Instead of harassing her rider, she instead turned to look at the iron beside her, bumping Kaezeth's shoulder with the top of her head as her mind extended to him once again. 'Tell Yours that I say he is okay for a two-legged...' It was as much of a blessing as one could expect from the temperamental crimson subqueen. 'And tell yourself that I think you're all right as well.' The last bit was her approximation of light-hearted teasing, and she hummed contentedly to accent it. She nudged him playfully again and the rested her head on her forelegs to attempt to snooze some more. She rather liked snoozing. Especially when the current object of her jealous possession was so near.

As the redrider felt the arm slide over her shoulders she couldn't help but feel a chill run up her spine. She hadn't felt such familiar contact since... well, it didn't matter anymore. Why even now was the Weyrleader coming to her mind? And why, even now, did she feel like screaming out her frustration at being so powerless? True, Waroth's flightlust had come and gone, but she still hated herself for it. Still, nonetheless she forced herself to remain calm. He was nice... nice enough, anyway.

'I suppose you are allowed...' She conceded. Yet outside the red beast snorted her disapproval at his comment about her having to apologize. A queen, even a subqueen such as herself, never apologizes! But she got over it quickly. After all, she had Kaezeth, and she was content to sleep the morning away with him at her side. She could deal with irritations later. Right now she couldn't be bothered.

'I suppose it is rare for her not to be irritated,' Nimara replied, 'The only others she's extended such regards to are a hatchling red and-' She cut off. It wouldn't be right to say that Waroth had said something kind about the Weyrleader that she hadn't extended to the Weyrwoman. Nimara had a feeling that something about her own emotions about him had possibly swayed her partner, but she hadn't dared to think on it for very long. Perhaps that was the connection between all three incidences? Nim had sympathized with Jasra and so Waroth had tolerated Izkeeyerdath. Nim had feelings for O'sho and so Waroth found him moderately agreeable. Nim had... well, Nim really didn't know what she could call this. R'len was a nice, decent man. That was really all she could say.

'Have you dealt with many reds before?' She asked, changing the subject without excuse. She used an awkward tone, one that flavored questions the asker isn't used to asking and feels that they already know the answer to. Considering he had said something about Waroth apologizing, she assumed he hadn't. It was worse than insulting a copper or a gold... reds took offense quickly and were rare to let things go. Just clever enough to hold grudges and seek revenge, they were. While Waroth was all peaceful and content now, Nimara had no doubt she'd bring up that apology business at a later time when it suited her.

As R'len talked, Nim found some comfort in the sort of haphazard way he flowed from subject to subject. He was an honest man, she decided, and one who had a tendency to talk much more than O'sho or any other Kingrider she had ever had a chance to have a long conversation with. It was... nice. While not much of a talker herself, Nim had always before liked to be in the company of those who were a bit on the chatty side. It kept there from being awkward pauses, and more importantly it helped her calm down to just hear someone speak. Maybe it reminded her of how her father would talk to the herdbeasts, she didn't know. Either way, she found herself falling more and more at ease with this ironrider character.

'I don't mind,' Nim replied with a smile. Once again she adjusted the sheets around her to cover herself better. But, even though the action suggested unease, the flow of her motions were a lot less jagged and jumpy.

'I'm sorry... you must have other things to do... should we get dressed so I can let you be on your way?' Again some of the anxiety entered her voice as she shifted beneath the sleeping furs that were wrapped around her. Her eyes searched the room for their clothes (a feat easier said than done) and she sighed deeply. All things had to come to an end. And with the two Dalibor queens glowing bright and brighter every day, she had a feeling he would probably never enter her life again. Nothing could come of it. Kaezeth would fly and Waroth would be furious. It was the way of things, wasn't it?

'Thank you, though...' She looked over at R'len again and gave a sad sort of smile, her eyes meeting his and holding their gaze for a moment, 'For talking with me. And for understanding. It means a lot.' Her words were genuine and earnest, not a trace of sarcasm or deception lingering in her voice.