Azhdarchid
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 18, 2011 20:18:56 GMT -5
Six hatchlings, including a pair of healthy Greens, and the Tan. Saia would be returning to her duties as surrogate oiler for Unath, which was all the better since there had been nothing appropriate for her to Impress besides the dull-eyed dragon finishing off the Hatching order. The Tan Impressed a woman he did not know. Tall for her sex. Slender. He would judge her later. The only thing that mattered, as he rose from his seat at the bottom row of the Stands, was that when Samael released the successful mother Naireth, it was toward Q'sis that she turned. His own Unath was still coiled up on the brim of the grounds, and did not respond even to the shadow of her dun-colored progenitor swinging out the main exit. Unmoving as a rock, Unath would play a dim backdrop to the new Weyrlings and their struggling charges as they made their way to the steps.
Q'sis was the more active of the pair, making a curt half-bow to Valha despite her earlier indiscretion, then planting his hand on the stone barrier and hefting himself straight over the side. It was a long drop, the landing on unsure scribbles of sand grains at the edge of the Hatching bowl, but the Tanrider always took great care to keep himself balanced. He crushed a far-thrown fragment of eggshell as he alighted the burning earth, straightening up slowly and then shaking a twitch from one leg. Of course the sensible stair path down from the front row was glaring in the background to Q'sis' right, but though he turned that way he paid the helpful architecture no mind.
He did not wait for Samael, but strode out of the Hatching's glow-lit gallery into the small hall Candidates used to access the Sands. Though there were notches on the wall where baskets could rest, the glows for this Hatching had already been stripped. No one would be accessing the dark corridor for a long time. What went on within it was always muffled by the coursing of the waterfall that rushed by the center of the stair. Q'sis remained in the most comfortable, audible zone between the misted falls and the Sands. He had perfect justification for being here: talking in the Hatching cavern itself would have been an uncomfortable business. Even long after he had Impressed, the Sands were still hot.
He realized he was standing on the plateau where the assassin he had toppled in his first Summer at Dalibor had come to a rest. A woman, though he hadn't known till he turned her over. Q'sis looked along the rock stair for a moment, then wavered back onto a higher step. He towered over Samael more than usual when the other Tanrider came tagging along after him as expected. On impulse he descended the stair again to meet her before she could set her foot on the first rise of stone, sand crunching under his boot again as he entered the periphery of dark and light.
"You did everything right," he gushed, arms wrapping around Samael as he intercepted her. The midsummer of the Turn should have been time for matched dragon oiling sessions and lazy swimming in the lake. But Samael had been busy with the clutch, or at least he assumed as much. And he, Q'sis, had been training with the other Weyrlings for their little-anticipated first run at delivering firestone in Threadfall. Even his promise of returning between the end of Naireth's Flight and the start of the next Threadfall had not been kept, because Naireth hadn't the decency to go up on the schedule Q'sis had outlined. "Two Greens," he praised, then broke into a grin. "And that Tan."
The other hatchlings did not warrant special note from Q'sis, but perhaps Samael could grasp his pet discriminations by now. But there was more to his exultation than what could be put to words at first: six dragonets, no duds, no maulings of each other. All but the Tan looked in good physical and mental order, ready to fight once they were grown. "Such strong children," he said, tightening his squeeze on the woman for emphasis of the, well, strength of the trait. Q'sis had learned long ago how to moderate himself around the smaller rest of humanity, so his contact never approached a crushing hold. He loosened his arms after that little gesture, his palm coming to rest at the small of her back, face tipped to regard hers.
But Q'sis lifted his head at a scuffling sound from further out on the Sands. It was only Weyrfolk cleaning out the blood from the feeding pit. He again took account of the rapid absence of Naireth. "How does she feel?" he asked, looking back at Samael, eyes lit in defiance of the hour- or perhaps it was the scattering of reflected glowlight in his irises as the drudges began peeling baskets from the cavern walls. "How do you feel, Samael, rider of Queen Naireth?"
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 18, 2011 23:18:28 GMT -5
She had almost become accustomed to the heat of the Sands. She had stayed by Naireth's side every chance she got, so incredibly grateful that the tan had been her usual self for those five sevendays. Though Naireth hardly made for good conversation, her company had been something that Samael consistently craved since Impression. Over the Turns the addiction had only gotten stronger, surging back full force every time the dragon saved her life or at least tried to. With Thread in the skies and Naireth tirelessly proving herself, Samael hardly ever wanted to part. She had relished the weeks they got to stay on the ground.
Still, there was a freedom that swelled inside her chest when Naireth flew from the cavern, and she chuckled as she adjusted her speedy course to follow Q'sis out to the cool night breeze. He had never been one for explanation, simply assuming that those around him would follow his bulk. It suited Samael just fine. The periodic baskets of glows threw dizzying bands of light across her eyes as the adrenaline spurred her forth. She slowed when she caught up only to have his arms come up around her. Sam laughed, light and clear and happy. She hooked her hands about the back of his neck.
"Oh, I know," she beamed, and Q'sis squeezed - quite literally - another laugh from her. Two Greens and a Tan. There had also been a beautiful Purple, a Blue and a Pink, but Q'sis' exclusion of them had barely registered. In the early days, his opinionated way of thinking and acknowledging had driven her up the wall and back down again. Now, she gave it its due amount of affectionate amusement.
Sam felt Q'sis' arms loosen, but kept hers up around him. She searched for Naireth's mind and smirked. "She went straight home," she said, "Right back to the weyr and her couch." Balto had joined the hulking mother, nestled between her legs like a child while she remained oblivious. Sam sent him good thoughts as well, but he remained respectfully away from Q'sis. "She's so much calmer up there. I mean, she was brilliant through the whole thing - she did so well, but she was a little tense. In the end, it all turned out all right." Six beautiful babies, among them the fifth living Tan. She had almost thought the sixth; Mabiath still lingered faintly in her memory.
"I'm good, too," she added, almost as an afterthought. So much of her focus was on that exalted Queen Naireth. "I'm very, very good. That was amazing." Her eyes sparkled on their own, full of pride and joy. "Oh, I'm so glad you made it. Not like I really thought you'd miss it, but, you know. It's great to see you. We've both been so busy." [/blockquote] |
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Azhdarchid
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 19, 2011 11:29:59 GMT -5
The less observant at the Hatching had probably assumed Samael departed with her dragon. Q'sis looked to one of the arms tucked over his shoulder, lacing over the back of his neck and remaining sure there even when he relaxed his hold. He could feel the Sands' heat off her, her vitality in contrast to the wet gloom behind the waterfall. He had not seen her so radiant before, and her triumphant mood arrived just as it should: when she had so thoroughly demonstrated her aptitude for preserving the future. Q'sis adjusted one of his hands to the back of her head, stroking through the clipped ranks of her hair.
On the distant outcrop, Unath raised her head in bewildered wakefulness as Iron Kaezeth's voice poked into her mind. Her sudden movement startled a drudge sweeping the claw-scarred stone beside her, and Unath idly pushed the worker away from the ledge he'd stumbled toward, then got to her feet. None of the other dragons were around anymore. She gawked blankly at the line of drudges shuffling out the exit beside her.
"No one expecting you till morning then," he replied to Samael's observation of their recent difficulties, and to the announcement they had both heard. "I was listening for it. Unath does not sing with the others, but I knew it had to be soon. I will not miss your Hatchings ever, Samael. You and Naireth have earned anything you want. For Naireth that may only be rest." The whole Weyr was turning in collectively. The youngest Weyrlings in their new beds, the oldest riders in their high weyrs, lulled to slumber by the whispers of a Summer sea. "But you're not tired, are you?" Not him or Sam. They were wide-eyed, made new by the evening's events. Of course Q'sis bore a permanent stain of weariness under his eyes even when fully roused, but it did not affect his mood.
He seized on Unath, who had turned around and was staring out at the stars. Under his impetus the fifteen-month-old pushed off the rock and glided into the Bowl. She made a few enterprising flaps toward her weyr, but at the end of her first orbit Q'sis pulled her in to land at the top of the Candidates' pathway. Unath hunkered down to wait, a brown blot that did not stir any more than the sleepers in their dens.
Q'sis did not ignore the other rider while he manipulated Unath to her place, but he was much quieter. His hands traveled, feeling gently at Samael's sides and hips and shoulders. The Weyrling did not hide his touches with lightness or quickness. He was not ashamed of such interests. His chest rose and fell on more impressive breaths, his contact shifting from caressing back to holding. As Unath landed and her shadow broke up some of the starlight at the top of the stair, he wrapped his hand around Samael's arm, right where she had hidden her Autumn scarring previously. That was only a momentary touch, but he looked down at the captured limb before moving his hand to Samael's chin.
He tipped her face up, then bent to kiss her, smiling at the slight strain involved in doing so. Usually he did not interact with women in such a manner while they were both standing. A short sample of her lips, and Q'sis raised his head again. "There is opportunity tonight. I need you to come with me, to my weyr. I will congratulate you properly there."
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 19, 2011 13:42:54 GMT -5
The administration of the celebration had been run by her multiple times. As she understood it, her presence was important as the rider of the mother dragon, but the charismatic weyrleaders R'len and O'sho would do all of the talking. Catori would be appointed the werylingmaster of the so-called Firefinder class, and then people would eat, congratulate weyrlings, and likely talk to her about Naireth and intelligent tan philosophy. Samael was more excited for the food than the inquisition. The breakfast part, however, had been a surprise. She had assumed it would be a dinner like any other celebration. The idea was brilliant, but the time less convenient. She'd have to get Naireth to wake her.
She peered at Q'sis. "No, not anymore," she smiled. Her previous exhaustion hung in dark shadows beneath her eyes but she defied it. "Hopefully I'll at least be able to sleep soon, seeing as the feast is..." But her voice trailed off, feeling strong hands wander her body's landscape. Quietly, she whispered, "In the morning." Until then, however, she was free.
She began to feel immensely spoiled. Her evening gotten better and better as it went on. It had began with the gift of a beautiful hatching and more excitement than the young woman could contain. Then, she had expected a nice conversation followed by a thick sleep with dreams of dragonets. Instead, the object of her curious affections had her beneath his fingertips. Though it seemed a natural progression, she felt butterflies well up in her stomach. Her heart palpitated, a few syncopated and forceful beats, which then drew Naireth's mental attention. A quick survey of her rider's mind assured her that there was no danger, and she laid her head down and closed her eyes. Samael was just being a human, she figured. Nothing wrong in that.
Sam's face had fallen in favour putting all her attentions on the purposeful contact. There was no difference between her smooth skin and skin rippled by scars; she was not ashamed of them and Q'sis already knew the tales. He brought her up to look at him and her wide eyes searched the harsh shadows of his face. When he leaned towards her, she stood towards him, rising up onto her toes to close the comic distance. The ensuing kiss was brief but she came away and smiled softly. Her hand found the summer stubble of his cheek.
"You will?" Samael breathed. "Well," and she hung her hands off the collar of his shirt, "I guess that would be alright." The upturned corners of her mouth and the sliver of teeth tucked about her lip, however, displayed far more anticipation than neutrality. She realized her mind may have been jumping the gun. For all she knew, it could have just been a late-night candlelight dinner and some small talk instead of what her thoughts had leapt to. At least every encounter with Q'sis was one to be savoured; she did not consider him her greatest friend without reason. [/blockquote] |
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Azhdarchid
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 19, 2011 17:35:44 GMT -5
His dark brows twitched upward in expectation as Samael wound her way towards agreement, and he grinned at the unspoken portion of her answer.
"Follow me."
Q'sis only waited for her on the portion of the path that was exposed by a hole in its wall to the back of the cascading falls. There the stone had an everpresent sheen of moisture, and he took Samael's hand while they passed it. There was no avoiding the thick mist glistening off skin and clothing in the aftermath, but the droplets rolled off in droves as he kept walking upwards. He stopped while still beneath the path's overhang. Olive eyes squinted out at the dragon in the dark, Unath's far more luminescent gaze opening up to meet his. But he was not looking at her.
Under the control of her rider, Unath raised her head and nipped at a tiny blue parasite riding her flank. The firelizard shot into the air with a squeak and Q'sis lost sight of it. It did not return, and after a minute he moved out into his dragon's shadow. "One of Valha's," he explained dismissively. Even if Balto was a good boy that did not seek to antagonize the male Tanrider, there were others in the Weyr that would use their flits as weapons in a campaign of irritation against him. What he had done to deserve the tag-along this time he did not know, but there would be no tolerance of such antics tonight.
Q'sis climbed the spotted ramp of Unath's arm, making sure she continued to hold it out for Samael. The dragon's back was naked, which was not an issue for him, but might be for a woman on an unfamiliar beast. He settled between the final two neckridges, which were touched with hints of brownish-red rather than the desaturated brown that occupied most of Unath's hide. He leaned against the rearward ridge to make space for Samael in front of him. When she had been seated, he secured one arm around her and put his other hand to the ridge ahead, flexing his fingers against the furrow of the hard surface.
Unath turned away from the unremarkable Candidates' crevice and bounded free of the earth, launching at a less extreme angle than usual. As a result she had to zip out over the lake and pivot sharply to send herself higher. But once she had sufficient altitude, she turned on Belior and began pumping her wings head-on to the distant moon. Q'sis took the easy flight as an excuse to rub his hand up Samael's front from her waist. Of course he had gravitated toward one of the highest weyrs on the higher sections of the wall, so his Tan had to ascend the entire Bowl to reach it. She overshot the Rim, flitting through the empty skies till Q'sis pointed her at her ledge. His arm dropped back to Samael's waist and tightened on the approach, but Unath landed with all due daintiness and cocked her head back at the doubting rider.
Q'sis raised both hands in a supplicating shrug. "Go inside," he ordered. Unath blinked, but complied, waddling off the grace of her landing. She paused at the lopsided weyr entrance, sniffing along the side of it. She had made mistakes before, but found her own smell rubbed on the rock here and thus could proceed. She thumped down on her haunches, tail still pointing out on the ledge, but she and her occupants back in the dark.
When he and Samael were on their own feet again, Q'sis tipped open a glowbasket on the wall so they had just enough light for navigation. He lifted his chin toward the black room at the back of the weyr. "All those other dragons blew dust on Unath when they took off. Give me a moment, just to wash off her face. Don't want her sneezing on us. You can wait back there. There's a glow on the desk." Q'sis headed away to grab a water bucket at the front corner of the dragon's room, Unath lowering her head and tracking his progress.
The room he had directed Sam to held most of its treasures in a couple large chests, with some of the more sensitive fabrics hanging in a niche at the corner. The desk Q'sis referred to was dominated by a map of the Western Continent, obscure codes glistening in fresh black ink along the uninhabited, mostly unexplored lands north of Dalibor's island. There were several such blots on the smaller archipelagos too, some curiously close to the volcanic chains where exiles were routinely dumped but nothing in the ring of fire itself.
The map was overseen by the glowbasket Q'sis had mentioned. It had colored filter paper fitted inside, so that when the glow was exposed its light was instantly altered from green to soft, fire-like amber. So there was a candle, but no dinner to be seen. Just the desk, the (locked) chests, and the bed with its single light covering to accommodate the season's warmth.
Q'sis took his time cleaning Unath's perfectly unblemished snout, dipping the rag and squeezing the drops out before he rubbed the water on aimlessly. He smirked to himself, and when he noticed the Tan staring he said, "Do you want to sleep up top today?" He referred to Unath's favored roost on the Rim itself, a short climb up from the weyr.
I was there...before... Unath pondered. She seemed to be searching for some logical conclusion, but eventually gave up with the announcement: I will sleep on the ledge now.
"If that's what you want." Q'sis rested his forehead against her nose, then got up and let her amble out to the starlight. He went to the pegs on the wall where his riding leathers and her straps rested together, untying the Sr. Weyrling knot from his shoulder and stringing it on its own small peg. He took off his boots and headed to the back of the weyr barefoot, closing the outer glow as he went.
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 19, 2011 19:44:39 GMT -5
The day had been hot, but already the night air was cooling. A soft breeze blew in from the ocean that made Samael shiver and lean against the man behind her. She felt giddy at the sensation of both flying and being held close, letting Q'sis stroke her to his heart's content. The sight of Belior so close was almost dreamlike, even if she had seen it atop Naireth many times before. She let her eyes wander between the great moon and its smaller sister Timor, around the starry sky and down to the strong hands about her. Eventually her eyes closed and her lips smiled, only to rejoin the world of the seeing when Unath touched down.
It was curious that Q'sis should send her off alone when she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his warmth. Still, she was not one to judge another's dragon's allergies, especially one so dependent as Unath. "Okay," Samael nodded, infatuadtedly compliant. She wandered then into Q'sis' room, fingers brushing along the wall as she went. The covered glowbasket, she noted, was a sharp idea. She preferred to work by candlelight, avoiding the eerie hue of glows in the late night hours, but the flickering of the flame cast dancing shadows she could do without. Perhaps she would favour a basket like Q'sis'. Then, as she bent to examine the map, her loose summer shirt hung off her frame like a halo.
Samael wondered at the nature of the markings and admired the hand that had written them. She found Crescent Hold on the map and recalled the clean smell of its young corridors and the vaulted ceiling of the dining hall. It was so fresh compared to her home of Southern Boll which so often smelled of dye. Her eyes also found Dalibor, the ink so vague in conveying the size and strength of the Weyr. The rider came back to reality then, looking up to the door. Q'sis had not yet come back.
Sam left her simple laceless shoes out of the way and perched upon the edge of the bed. She felt for Naireth and Balto and found them both soundly asleep, unfettered by the strageness of being in another's domain. It simultaneously thrilling and uncomfortable. Her reasons for being here were good - exciting, exhilerating even. Still, there was a tension that arose from her solitude that would only subside when Q'sis returned to her. She knew the importance of caring for a dragon, but she was selfish and wished him to be faster. When he finally appeared in the doorway, her face lit up.
"Welcome back," she said softly. In the warm light, her dark eyes found him and stayed, expectant as he approached. [/size] |
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Azhdarchid
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 19, 2011 22:39:27 GMT -5
One principle Q'sis enjoyed for its equal parts cruelty and delight was that a meal almost always tasted better when one was forced to wait for it. The wait could be just a few minutes while a man played at washing his dragon, or it could be a Turn or more under regulation and the threat of being traumatic to those held dearest. Q'sis paused, fingers grazing his own brow at the latter notion. Then he reached down and pulled off his dark tunic, unlatching the belt riding his hips and pulling it off. Clothes and accessories were all deposited in the same semi-orderly pile to the left of the door, then he continued his advance. He prowled right up to the bed and sat down with a gingerness that mocked Samael's. Her greeting earned only a smile, the threat of small talk stamped out before it could build.
The other Tanrider had seen most of this before. Old, discolored scars wrapping thick muscle till his extremities were tough as a battle-beaten wher's, and the newer but paradoxically better-healed rends in his shoulders. Q'sis rubbed at one of these more recent prices of ignorance. The core of his body had kept its superficial softness; there were no marks on the previously omitted scenery. Turning to Samael, he took the nearer arm of hers and pushed her sleeve back, turning her wrist up. He pressed his lips to the softest skin just above the palm, and the rough where it appeared, traveling indiscriminately upward till even tucked her sleeve presented an objection. At that point he jumped straight to her lips, this time not only for the purpose of teasing out compliance. He already possessed that.
His palm brushed her cheek, fingertips hooking at the back of her jaw to keep her turned to his liking. Some of the height disparity disappeared when he was no longer standing, but not all. The impatient man seized on his guest's hips and dragged her into his lap. Balancing her against one leg, he encouraged her head and upper body back at a slant that allowed him to kiss her from above, and kept her comfortable, albeit at his whimsy. Clothes were a poor barrier to his pursuits at first, and it was some time before he finished removing the last of Samael's. Even then he was all consideration for a time, exploring her unguarded fragilities before indulging in her more thoroughly.
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Post by Reky on Nov 19, 2011 23:27:24 GMT -5
It had been many Turns since Samael had been with a man worthy of the word. Her teenage interests had brought her to the arms of boys that shook in her presence, that fumbled anxiously in the dark and relied so heavily on her to take initiative. Even at the first instant of contact, Q'sis' experience was above and beyond that of F'ton. The ironrider had quaked and fled in the morning, and needless to say, Samael had craved more confident company. She was more than willing to be at Q'sis' mercy.
Where his placement of her permitted, she would press her scarred palms to the flesh of his back or tangle her fingers in his hair. Finally being able to feel the muscle of him was an experience of its own. She had often wondered, from glimpses snagged while swimming and dragon-cleaning, what it had felt like to be so close to a man like him. She was dwarfed, but comfortably so. She felt protected in such capable hands as a woman ought to, and as she left the map of her body open for him to chart, she breathed out the score of her rising sensations.
---
Later that night, she lay quietly against him, her slick skin barely saved from a chill by the thin summer blanket. Samael didn't bother contemplating the events that had passed; there was no need for analysis. It had been fortuitous and filled her with a gauzy, warm contentment, and she was happy to leave it at that. There hadn't even been a drop of concern from Naireth, who had only surfaced from her slumber briefly. Everything that day had work out so well, and as Samael teetered on the brink of sleep, she place a small kiss the other rider's collarbone. Then, with any adrenaline-induced wakefulness now gone, she let her eyes drop closed. [/blockquote] |
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Azhdarchid
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 20, 2011 11:57:24 GMT -5
He was lying on his side, one arm crossed over Samael and his fingertips daggering intermittently against the thin coverlet, when he detected the little call for respite against the base of his neck. Familiar lips drew on his skin a final time, and his hand clenched on the bed fabric. Q'sis breathed more evenly over time, but did not give over to sleep as easily as his partner. The trader in him eventually came around to appreciate the extra body just for its warmth, and after some greedy interweaving of legs with the sleeper, he accepted the request for rest.
The night had just started to bleed away, an appeal of colored light penetrating the weyr and the open doorway to the bedroom, when he awoke. It did not matter how few hours had passed in the interim, or if he might still be exhausted for other reasons: Q'sis always woke at the same pre-dawn cue. But now there was Unath, who swept to consciousness a second after and touched what adoration she had organized in sleep to him, soothing the temporary discomfort. Unath had slept the entire night. Perhaps he should have been embarrassed that his exertions did not impress the Tan, but he had settled long ago with the notion that dragons- Unath -simply did not take much stock in humanity. It would always be the other way around: the man that could not control himself in the face of his dragon's appetites.
And he was still huddled around Samael, the space she occupied dim while his back blocked both the red of the morning and the gold of the glow open on the desk. Perhaps the other Tanrider did not realize that Q'sis, or really all Holdless tradermen, had a long-standing tradition of flight the morning after. He fled from fathers, brothers and husbands, so it was categorically different from the escape of F'ton, but the result was still a woman abandoned in an empty bed. Even were he bigger or stronger, there was nothing to defend; his caravan would be leaving, and him with it.
He looked over his shoulder at the glowbasket, the sunrise not yet bright enough to make out the exterior details of the weyr, or Unath as she stretched on the ledge. Q'sis glanced back down at Samael. He could not very well depart to begin the day when he still needed to deliver her back to her own weyr. She remained hot and soft against him. Nothing had changed in the night. And he was comfortable. And tired. So he wrapped back around her and closed his eyes.
When he stirred again, the morning light had become colorless. Unath had gone out to occupy herself with flying the highest thermals off the Bowl, so she was no longer blocking the admittance of Rukbat to the weyr. There was no denying his alertness now, so Q'sis nudged Samael aside into her own disheveled ball and left the bed. He never went very far: first closing the glowbasket, then pacing out to the dragon's side of the weyr to get an eye for the sun's current resting place.
It was not catastrophically late, so he could leave Samael to wake on her own time. He was a little disturbed by the amount of activity that had already possessed Dalibor, but he retreated from it, back to the safety of his bedroom and the bath annexed to it. There was already a flock of clean towels arrayed around the bathing area, Q'sis requiring two or three at a sitting himself. The weyr's proximity to the Rim afforded a long, channeling hole that prodded in a view of the sky at one corner of the bath ceiling. Of course it did get bitterly cold in the Winter, but Q'sis usually had it plugged up well before then, and opened for this brief admittance of natural light in the Summer. Thanks to the gap, there was no need for a glow at this hour. He could almost feel like he was outside, not cramped into the necessary protection of stoneblooded life. Thread days necessitated their own precautions, but this was not one of them.
He stepped into the hot water of the bathing pool, sitting back against a slope in the stone. He gathered a couple pouches of soapsand to the edge of the water, but did not make ready use of them. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes as steam circled the surface of the bath.
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 20, 2011 14:07:17 GMT -5
Samael had been lost to the world for the most part. Only when sunlight began to stream quite steadily in through the mouth of the weyr did she gain some consciousness, a slit appearing between her eyelids. She wasn't yet ready to face the light of day and let herself fall back asleep, still nestled next to Q'sis. The sun rose early in the summer, so she allowed herself more time to drink in the comfort that surrounded her before worrying about the feast.
When her man finally rose and left, she put her mind towards getting up. It was a surprisingly lengthy feat which involved a lot of her lying still and thinking about it. Her body wanted to remain curled beneath the blanket, but she knew she needed to be functional sooner or later. She had a breakfast to attend and tardiness would expose her as the lazy creature she was. With a groan, she rolled out of bed and took the sheet with her as a cloak. Blurry morning vision found her underclothes and tunic on the floor and tugged them on with weak fingers.
Naireth, she sent groggily. 'Morning.
Good morning, SamaelMine.
Can you bespeak Kaezeth? Ask when R'len thinks the feast will be read. She pressed her palm into her tired eyes; stretched her tense legs. There was silence as Naireth undoubtedly carried out her request.
Kaezeth says that His is still quite busy and that the kitchen is rushing. The breakfast meats will take another hour and there will be an announcement when it is ready.
Thanks, sweet. Mmmm. I'll come see you soon, promise. Sorry I was away all night.
But you are glad you were, Naireth observed.
Sam smiled to herself and wandered through to the bathing room. She found Q'sis there, spread out in the water and steam. The light that poured through the opening was refreshing and far more than her low-level weyr had to offer. A good morning mutter found its way through her lips as she deposited herself on the stone edge of the pool and she hugged her loose shirt around her body. There was a bruiselike ache as she sat that put a simper to her lips.
"R'len says the feast will be ready in an hour," she reported, relieved that she hadn't missed it and that she did not have to rush to be clean and dressed. She decided, then, to wear her embroidered blouse with her dark breeches and polished boots - it would cut down on the time she spent rifling through her chest of drawers. She idly ran a hand through her hair and found it stuck up in places it shouldn't. She would have to take a comb and some water to it. "At least you don't have an official obligation to be on time." She would have liked some leniency, but the event was in honour of Naireth's children and Samael would show respect to them. She was also interested in meeting the new tanweyrling, fabricating a bond from their rare-coloured dragons. The older four tanriders' shared trials with a daft companion made for a curious brand of closeness, or at least a good conversation topic.
"Oh well. The food will be good," Samael shrugged. Always with the food. [/blockquote] |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 20, 2011 16:15:28 GMT -5
The Tanrider did not move when his fellow's footsteps entered the dome of the bath and headed toward him. When she began to speak, his eyes opened and slid toward her, remaining stoic as he listened and then blinking his gaze away toward the ceiling.
"An hour?" he mused, turning his head to her at last. His lower lip pushed to an unimpressed pout at Samael's fully-dressed state, but the sentiment did not last. Muscular arms shifted off the brim of the bath, bringing a soapsand pouch along as he began to scrub his rough skin. "But you will need to get ready," he said, answering his own unspecified question. "Then I will get you to your weyr soon."
With the other rider sitting there, he turned his bathing process rather perfunctory, finishing with a bucket of untouched water over his head, to soak his hair. He ran his hand through the wet brown strands and pushed them out of his face. A grin was leveled up at Samael, a trace of water dribbling from his black-haired chin. "On the contrary, I have a very official reputation to manage. I always get the best cuts at the special occasions and I always defend them well from my tablemates. I cannot do that if I am late."
Q'sis climbed out of the pool, sapping the moisture from his hair and upper body with one towel, then tossing that one aside and wrapping the second around his waist. He did not spend any time combing his hair or trimming his beard as routine dictated; he could take care of those details after Samael was gone, as it was not very fair for her to sit and gawk at his secrets of presentation. He stepped behind her and put his dried arms under hers, lifting her up onto her feet, holding her back against his body and relieving her of his bedsheet. "And I have to see your dragons again. Who knows how long the hatchlings will stay awake?"
He left her, unlocking one of his chests with a key produced from somewhere in the bedroom. Q'sis had obviously not been carrying it on his person, but he did not let Samael see where he had picked it up from. Old habits. Though it was a warm day, he would no doubt be spending the afternoon in the highest skies, drilling with the other dutiful Tideturners. So he slipped on the dusky dark brown wherhide pants and boots needed for riding, but selected a lighter blue tunic for the morning's affairs. "Above all else, make sure you have a good time Sam. It is still your day." He signaled Unath down from her thermal hovering, throwing her straps over her neck, also in preparation for the work to come. As he winched the leather tight, he bit the inside corner of his lip. "Make sure you hunt Naireth too. She has to be hungry. She did so well..."
The Weyrling tried looking over his shoulder at his woman, only to notice the absence of the rank-knot on his shirt. He returned to the wall pegs and looped on the woven insignia, flicking the tassels into place with a snort.
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 21, 2011 0:08:22 GMT -5
"Oh, shells, then! That's a title to defend if I ever saw one," she grinned, and proceeded to occupy herself with tugging the wrinkles out of her shirt. It occurred to her that she had never intruded on any person's private bathing; the communal baths did not count. It was far less intimate than she had imagined with her still on dry land. The goods of Q'sis' body were tucked neatly behind the obstacle of getting wet, and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to but the effort into bathing that morning. Her hair also received due attention from her fingers, eventually laying at an angle between flat and upright that could potentially be called a style.
She reluctantly let Q'sis take away her fantastic cape, released from his arms as easily as he had pulled her into them. "The tan might be up for some time," she called from the bathroom to him, stepping briskly to follow. "I don't know if she'd ever want to close those eyes." A smile spread over her face. The logic of a tan - that was, the ignoring of logic in favour of simple pleasures. The hatchling would have to sleep eventually, of course, but Samael doubted it would be of her expressed choice.
As she whisked back into Q'sis' room, she swept her tight trousers off the floor and slid them over her legs. Her shoes she found near the desk where she had left them. "I should hope for a late-night hatching every time. Two days of mine in one," she smirked. "But don't worry. I whine a lot but I like people. And attention." And here she bit her lip and pressed her eyes thin, seductively. "And I'll get my Queen fed. I'll get her to stretch her wings, too. I think we could both use a refresher before Fajra chews us out in drills." Samael thought both she and her dragon felt a little out of shape and lazy after being grounded for so long.
She approached him in the outer weyr with a fake haughtiness, playing around. "Well, then, I should like to be chauffeured back to my weyr now, good..." - and she tugging gently at his knots - "Senior Weyrling, sir." Not that she would tell the sprightly Tasakhori of the night's events. [/blockquote] |
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Azhdarchid
Jr. Weyrwoman
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Post by Azhdarchid on Nov 21, 2011 17:21:47 GMT -5
He hid his smile at mention of that particular newborn, swallowing back his response as Unath looked over him quizzically. He detected a slip of intrigue in the other Tanrider's voice and glanced over at her while he buckled the dragon's straps, pulled by the promise in her eyes- but also trying to ensure his gear was not nicked or stretched or in some other way capable of letting him fall to his death. Samael had certainly chosen her moment. When she finally came out to him, though, he was no longer torn between her and some vitally important task to his dragonriding existence. Her words no longer offered pleasure either: in fact, the Weyrling was just baring his teeth at mention of Fajra when he caught sight of Samael strutting toward him.
His eyebrows shot up, then sank toward craggy disapproval as she requisitioned him. The Tanrider's mouth pulled to one side in a clear effort to avoid voicing his objections as they piled on, eyes narrowing at the reference to his rank. Luckily Samael tailed it closely with the "sir," which set the ex-trail boss blinking while he digested the term. He reconsidered his partner's theatrics, and recounted the great praise he had lavished on her the night before, all of it earned. The set of his jaw relaxed, and he traced his fingers down the back of her mousey brown hair, peering at its purposefully organized configuration before he began tweaking a few strands back out of place.
"Well, since you asked so nicely," he replied in a neutral rumble, letting go of her to return to Unath. The dragon tilted her head after him as he climbed her forearm, and Q'sis thumped her intruding muzzle affectionately before shooing her away so Samael had a clear path up. Unath still did not mind the passenger, even if the only reason she kept her arm down in the first place was because Q'sis ordered her to. "Sometimes she seems more like Naireth as she gets older," he observed as he watched the other Tanrider ascend. Unath magnificent draconic ears- invisible though they might be -detected the words, but she either never processed that she was under discussion, or did not mind it. "Stopped talking so much." A relief for several reasons, but at times contrary to his expectations of her.
He waited for Samael to settle in ahead of him, then got his customary arm around her waist. The proximity proved an easy reminder of other such forms of closeness, and though he pursued nothing now, he hesitated to send Unath out. Already delayed waiting for her second rider, Unath rumbled now with a detectable impatience. Q'sis grinned. "Then I remember she is not like Naireth at all." He allowed his dragon to pace out onto her ledge, the galaxies of spots on her dark wings expanding almost before she had room to get them past the weyr threshold. Q'sis was looking up for observers, but Unath's head arrowed down, straight at her target. She cracked her tail against the ledge a couple times like a switch, to little effect on either stone or skin. Then she gathered her large, strong rear talons to the cusp of the ledge and sprang off with a roar.
When only one or two dragons echoed her at first, Unath bellowed again as she crossed the Weyr without starting her downward glide, the paler undersurfaces of her wings flashing along her sides. "She's in a good mood today," Q'sis excused in a whisper of innocence. "Stay low." He did not bother surveying the Bowl as Unath banked toward the lower weyr. There was little need to give the impression that he had something to hide. People hitched rides all the time, though most of those people did not have dragons of their own. His visit to Samael's weyr should not have been a surprise: all the Tanriders had some magnetism towards each other, exchanging knowledge of the breed.
Unath landed with enough momentum to charge her through the entrance of the weyr, where she stopped immediately before Naireth and plunked her hindquarters down. Q'sis released Samael, remaining where he was. "Good morning, Naireth," he addressed the other Tan, then regarded her rider with an unhurried smile that did not quite reveal his knowledge of how rarely such chances afforded themselves. "If you need a challenge, then when hunger is not such a necessity you should try the wild flocks on the island. I found a group last Spring that I've goaded down to a nice open valley, lots of room for Unath to drop on them. And good exercise for her." He scraped one fingertip against his temple. "They're a lot wilier than those fat things in the pens. No one else has noticed them yet, so I expect they'll last us through Autumn. They're in the valley where the streams have silver banks." Q'sis had investigated the landscape briefly and found a high volume of clay accounting for the unique coloration. "Perhaps I will see you there sometime."
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Reky
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Post by Reky on Nov 23, 2011 22:38:03 GMT -5
Impatience was definitely not a trait to be found in Samael's tan counterpart. The rumble that came from Unath was almost startling to her, having never expected such restlessness from a dragon of such a colour. There were so few tans that, as easy as it was to tell the individuals apart, Sam often found herself making generalizations. They did have their similarities, but that was no good excuse. She smiled curiously to herself as she settled in front of Q'sis.
She leaned back into his grip, less in the guise of safety and more because she just liked to be all over him. She felt the vibrations of Unath's roar ripple through the creature's flesh, something that she rarely felt when she rode Naireth. The older tan was quieter; often she only made noise when Samael was not around, out of anxiety. The cries that had ripped from Naireth on the night of the kitchen fires had been both comforting and frightening and were summoned swiftly from Sam's memory. It was curious how different a mind could become when it was under duress.
It was also curious how minds that were often so different could show to be the same at times. Q'sis' tantalizing whisper came to here ears, telling her to stay low, and Samael's posture suffered almost immediately, without thought. Just like Naireth, she told herself, amused at her own expense. She put a sliver of distance between her back and her man's chest, at least, for she knew he had reason to be concerned. His graduation could not be far off, but he still had an image of a diligent weyrling to uphold. A disobedient weyrling, though amorous and well-meaning, was not held in such high regards.
Predictable, Samael grinned at this as well. She felt a flutter of rebelliousness having been a part of something quite taboo, even if it had all been Q'sis' fault. Well - she could have refused him the privilege, but she would have suffered more from that than from allowing his continuance.
As Unath glided down to alight on the low ledge, Samael spotted her queen within and beamed. She was like a starry-eyed child after only a night away from her bonded. As soon as Q'sis relinquished his safety hold around her, she swung off of Unath and urged Naireth closer. Q'sis' greeting went heard but not acknowledged as the beast was quite blasé towards him.
"Oh?" Samael turned her eyes from Naireth's close snout to the man up on the other dragon. She blindly rubbed at the proffered eyeridges. "Maybe! I think I know the place you're talking about. Flown over it, I mean. I'll check it out. Thanks."
She licked her lips. She wanted to run up and place them on Q'sis', but to get their would be a feat in itself. In her mind, at least, she had every right to kiss him when she wished. She would save it for another discreet opportunity, figuring she had really better get dressed for the feast instead of scrambling back up Unath. Her cheeks were touched with warmth from her silly girlish thoughts of attachment, and with Naireth having drawn her neck back into a poised arched, she carried on. Her arms felt empty with Naireth's nose gone.
"I'll see you down at the feast?" Sam said. "I've got to clean up a little more and put on proper clothes. I didn't even wear my knots to the hatching, I was so rushed." They were probably still draped over the back of her chair, if it could be called that and not a haphazard wardrobe. "Anyway... thanks, I guess? Am I supposed to say thanks? Hah. I feel like saying thanks." A shrug. "Ah, whatever. I'll catch you later, Q'sis." And with her customary Samael grin, she waved goodbye and turned to hurry to her bedroom with Naireth padding calmly at her heels.
It had been a good night, but the day still remained. [/blockquote] |
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