Hadn't, Wouldn't, Couldn't {Kila, Show}

[Admin]

I've seen her smiling,
The sunlight is shining on her now,
She couldn't stay here,
She knows you won't let her down.

The light of early morning filtered into the dimness of her weyr. She blinked, not truly opening her eyes. It was in her nature and training to wake up early, be down in the kitchens with perfect timing for breakfast to be fully out but just starting. She tried to glean what time it was from the air. The spring morning was chilly, the brilliant shine of Rukbat that would likely come having not yet warmed the air to a hugging humidity and hungry heat. Probably the eighth candlemark. Maybe the seventh or ninth. What was she doing that day? Oh, wait, Kalith had flown the day before. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, now less motivated to face the world. She sorted things out, carefully organized her mind as she mentally woke up. Daidoroth had won. O'sho was still Weyrleader, and he was in her furs. Now she had to think up some type of plan.

In the end, all she came up with was snuggling closer to him, pretending to still be asleep. He was warm. It was cold. It seemed perfectly sensible. She sighed in fitful contentment, as if not awake, and draped an arm over him in a show of possessiveness that perfectly matched Kalith. For a little while, she remained like that, unmoving except for slight shifts. It was artful, suggesting some guile to the cold Weyrwoman, how she pretended to have not yet awaken with such skill. It was so simple, the world, wrapped up in her warm furs with a warm body next to her, if she didn't think to hard about it. No she had ever known had died. She wasn't the Weyrwoman of a new Weyr with thread four turns away and renegades on her doorstep. No one fought. No one stole. The world was a happy place filled with rainbows. Oh, how she wished.

Outside, Kalith began to stir, from where she lay curled on her couch with Daidoroth. Fajra let out a groan and snapped her eyes open. She withdrew away from O'sho, sitting up and patting at her hair, which sat in a messy clump of red atop her had. She blinked a few times, clearing the stickiness of sleep from her eyes. Her mind was already sharply awake, especially with Kalith beginning to come alive as well. Waiting on the copper, trying to remember what she needed to get done and not thinking about O'sho, she pulled at the furs, holding them up against herself. Flights were exhausting. She scratched at her face, wiggling her freckly nose. Her mind wasn't quite totally awake; it lacked some of its clarity and sharpness, some of its ability to come up with action. She needed breakfast. Finally, Kalith raised her head in a lazy fashion.

Good morning; Fajra greeted the copper, faintly smiling with her eyes unfocused. The carefree, relaxed, graceful dragon centered her, though she found no confront in the wolfish smirk that she knew the copper, for a moment, gave with a flash of her sharp, white teeth. Kalith settled her head back, humming faintly as her only greeting. She wasn't feel talkative, quite content to sleep for another few candlemarks. She prodded Daidoroth's tail a little to shift it with one foot and than curled up loosely, dozing with her eyes open. Taking a deep breath, lips pursing faintly, Fajra turned to look at O'sho. She needed to say something, though she lacked any particular feeling that she could settle on. She didn't feel the need to throw him out. He was Osro's father. Oh, Osro. B'nyur had him, or had said he'd been safe. She frowned at him, not speaking.

You know she couldn't stay here with you,
You know she had to go,
Even though she couldn't stay here with you,
You know you're not alone.

[Kila]

It was also in the nature of the Weyrleader to rise early. Not only did the duties that his title earned him clamor at him every morning in his bed, but morning and just before it were his favorite times of the day. The night was always at its darkest just before dawn, a fact to which any Wherhandler would attest, and it had the most serene, ethereal quality to it. Few people were up before the sun, and the silent black blanket upon the Weyr had an allure enough to pull him from his furs. O’sho felt no need to stay up late- late night had nothing on the early morning. It was at this time that O’sho’s mind was most clear and he could think and work the best. And then from the darkest dark the light began to glow and the Weyr began to wake. He thought it was a beautiful thing to see.

On this morning, however, even the velvet black of the crisp, early spring morning could not tempt him from his bed. But wait, this was not his bed. O’sho opened his eyes slowly and saw the familiar inside of Fajra’s weyr. Daidoroth had won! He smiled, not surprised. Sleeping next to him was the Weyrwoman herself. Her body was soft and warm against his and she looked as peaceful then as he had ever seen her, still asleep and unburdened by the day. He studied her sleeping face fondly as his own eyes slowly closed again.

He drifted off, but in his light sleep he heard Fajra stir slightly. Even with them both in a state of half stupor, still worn out from the passionate, flight-inspired night they had shared, he thought it most prudent to remain “sleeping”. Once she sorted out her thoughts she would most likely throw him out as she had done before, but she at least deserved that time to think things through. He was extremely surprised, to say the least, when she instead sighed and snuggled against him and lay still. She had gone back to sleep. A strange emotion puzzled O’sho as the fatally beautiful figure shifted against him and threw her arm over him. He was very very content and, for a moment, felt a spot of compassion for her that he had felt for his other longtime Weyrmates. He slid his hand over her waist and let his rest on the small of her back in a sleepy, subconscious response. Faranath peg me for a wherry-brained old fool, he thought of himself as he drifted back into sleep, not to stir again until his bonded did.

Neither O’sho or Fajra were aware of the others artfully deceptive show of sleep that hid their most inner thoughts and emotions. Those were not things to be admitted and acted on in the light of day.

Daidoroth was roused when Kalith moved next to him and shifted his tail out of her way so she could better curl up beside him. What a beautiful sight and emotion to wake to. Like she, he felt no need to speak. He crooned to her the sweetest good morning before curling around her, settling his face next to hers, their cheeks touching. He flicked his tails so that it brushed the length of hers and then settled back down to sleep away some more of the day. They had thoroughly worn themselves out.

When O’sho opened his eyes again, this time for real, he turned his head on the pillow to see Fajra perched on the edge of the bed looking at him with familiar pursed lips. She had grappled with consciousness before him and moved away while he slept on. Well, at least she wasn’t screaming this time. ”Good morning,” he said with a gentle, tired smile. Pushing himself up into a sitting position he blinked the lingering sleep from his eyes and rubbed his hand though his hair absently. The furs fell modestly into his lap and revealed only his upper torso. ”Don’t move just yet,” he said, turning and swinging his legs over the other side of the bed, chivalrously beginning to get up, ”I’ll go so you can wake up and change at your leisure.”

[Admin]

Over the sea and far away,
She's waiting like an iceberg,
Waiting to change,
But she's cold inside.

Fajra watched him as he awoke, expression not changing. She made some small effort, in vain, to smile back at his greeting some ridiculous and tight smile. She felt in no mood to argue or yell. She couldn't pinpoint her mood at all. She still refrained from speaking, hurriedly giving up on smiling, and offered no response to his greeting. She watched him run his hand through his hair. He didn't look as old as she knew he was. He looked handsome, dark and animated even with that tired smile. He looked tired, but he always looked tired, at least a little bit, something with the skin around the eyes. It was odd, how she knew him then. It was like they'd been in a relationship for two turns, though she didn't remember it. She only remembered work, and Osro. She refused to dwell on it. It didn't matter. She blinked sleep away from her own, blue eyes.

Naturally, a part of her was argumentative. His words for her not to get up yet immediately spurred her to start to move. They were both naked. It didn't really bother her. He was the only man she'd ever slept with in her life. They had a kid. Being naked? They were a little past that. "You know I don't have time for being leisurely;" she chided him in a neutral voice. It didn't matter if he was there or not. She would not react. Either way, reaction or not, she didn't want or need his chivalry. She picked up her clothes, scattered violently across the floor, possibly by her, though she had no interest in thinking hard enough to start stirring up distinct, radiant details of it. Brow furrowed, she threw the discarded garments into a wall in an alcove, out of the way, and went to find something to wear, ignoring him as best her senses would allow.

A mere moment mostly out of sight amongst the storage alcove of her weyr produced interesting results. "Shards;" she muttered. She looked up, staring through sheer wall to Kalith. The copper shifted and raised her head again from her comfortable position with Daidoroth. She snorted and Fajra frowned, turning back to her clothes. She hadn't done laundry. She'd been busy with all of her work and been dealing with her copper before her rising that she hadn't thought to get her laundry into the lower caverns to be washed. There were clean things, of course, but fancy feast and gather dresses and things she hadn't worn in a long while because they weren't comfortable but couldn't bring herself to thrown out at that point so as not to waste them weren't exactly what she was looking for in what to wear for a day filled with tasks.

The single swear word was all she said of the conundrum. She kept her lips zipped, and an amused Kalith settled back, refraining from telling anything to Daidoroth. Hurriedly, knowing he would be dressed and gone soon and wanting to be out and about, going to do a few things involving vital day to day things before she took a proper bath and could see about drawing out clothes she could use that were clean, she pulled out something she knew didn't have any droppings of obvious food on it, and, with a vague wave of her hand, she found didn't smell like anything more than the odor of dragons. She threw it aside to pick up something else after a second thought. That wrinkled. She needed something that she could pull off, and she was well aware she was capable of pulling of everything when she put in some effort. She finally settled on items.

Pulling on underclothes and leggings, so she was in a state of being mostly dress where she found herself much more comfortable than before, she stepped out, trying to organize her thoughts. As always, she had worked quickly and efficiently, finishing it all in no time flat, as if nothing had been set askew and her mild curse had been a random slip of the tongue. She brushed a bit of her red hair behind her ear. She blinked about, still refraining from actually speaking to him. She needed to find Osro. That was the first priority. All else could wait for a little while. She pulled a simple, but almost clean, shirt over her head, tugging it into place, still thinking on her son. She'd need to speak to B'nyur, but him and B'rak. She dimly remembered something there. She frowned. However, as if on cue, Afzal swooped, eliciting a halfhearted grumble from Kalith.

All the muscles tighten in her face,
Buries her soul in one embrace,
They're one and the same,
Just like water.

[4horseshowgirl4]

It was early, far earlier than Pratyba could normally be bothered to rise. However, this was not a typical morning. It was the morning after Kalith's Flight, which was an important event in itself, naturally, but to Pratyba, there was something far more exciting involved.

That 'something' was balanced in the crook of her arm as she bustled around her weyr, devious little mind clicking along, thinking about how to make this moment as perfect as possible. It had to be amazing-- Fajra had to be infuriated, but, at the same time, she had to be grateful to Pratyba for not, you know, managing to maim or kill her son, something that was far too likely in Pratyba's clumsy hands. However, the toddler was still as bright and healthy as he had been in his mother's care yesterday, but there was still the fact that Pratyba had him. Oh, this was going to be fun!

Pratyba looked unhappily at the huge pile of records that had also been left into her care after Kalith had Risen before Fajra had expected her to, leaving Osro and the pile of records she'd been reading stranded high up on the rim of the Weyrbowl. But, they, too, were not too much of a bother. It was just going to be a bit more unpleasant to carry them around. No matter! What was a bit of muscle ache compared to perhaps the second-greatest moment in her life? (First had been Impressing Oorth. Duh.) Speaking of Oorth, she needed the help of the Pink. "Oorth." she said, kicking the sleeping dragon's shoulder with a booted foot. "Oorth!" Finally, the Pink got up, blinking heavily several times to clear the sleepiness from her eyes. "Watch Osro! I'll be right back!" Pratyba promised. If there was anything worse than leaving the Weyrwoman's and Weyrleader's child in Pratyba's hands, it was leaving it in her dragon's hands. But, oh well!

Pratyba sprinted down to the kitchens. She caught the arm of a drudge. "I need a hot breakfast for the Weyrwoman and her new Weyrleader," she said prissily, causing the drudge to scurry off. Pratyba snorted with laughter the moment the woman was gone, but managed to sober up when she returned with generous servings of sweetrolls, wherry's eggs, and rolls-- all of it looking so delicious that it was quite difficult for Pratyba not to swallow it all up herself. In a moment, she was back at her weyr. She harnessed Oorth, actually using her riding straps for the rare occasion, before strapping Osro in behind her, and, behind him, all of the records, and holding the ginormous tray of hot breakfast gingerly in her lap. Oorth took off, flying rather more carefully than she usually would, before landing light as a shadow on Kalith's ledge (thankfully, both she and Daidoroth were on her couch inside!).

Pratyba slipped off, unstrapped everything, and sent off Oorth, who was all too happy to oblige. She didn't want to be around Kalith at the moment! Pratyba spent a moment arranging everything. She shoved the plates together in the middle of the tray, balanced the pile of records precariously on the left side, and plopped Osro down on the right. She took one more moment to compose herself, since she was very, very near to breaking down into a fit of giggles, but obviously that would ruin the moment!

When she was satisfied that all was well, the trouble-making Weyrling waltzed unabashedly into Fajra's weyr, right up to their bed. "Good mooooorning!" she sang out, giving them a winning smile. "Congratulations, O'sho!" she said cheerfully to O'sho, slightly disappointed that she had walked in a few minutes too late; he was the only one still in bed. Fajra was even dressed! However, the disappointment did not last long. This was still her moment of triumph! She set the tray down on a nearby table, picking up the toddler first. She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead (she would miss him, he was a sweetie!) before setting him down on the foot of Fajra's bed. She then passed a plate full of the best the kitchens had to offer to Fajra before giving O'sho his. At least O'sho had the decency to still be naked in bed when she had arrived! "Very nice, Weyrleader," she said coyishly, looking a moment too long at his chest before giving him a wink and handing him his plate.

Let the games begin!

[/font]

[Kila]

Lesisure. Why had he used the word leisure? Chivalry was only dead because it was so defiantly rejected. He smiled quietly as she tried to force a return smile in his direction before her mood shifted with displeasure at his words. He was amused rather than surprised when she did the opposite of what he suggested. “You know I don’t have time for being leisurely.” It was more so that she did not like being leisurely, or didn’t feel comfortable being so. O’sho did not press her further, however. He would be the last person to try to force his headstrong weyrmate to do something she didn’t want to do.

He watched as she walked away and out of sight, defiantly doing what he had tried to spare her. Fajra’s march across her Weyr was one of hubris and epitomized her personality. Her bare back whispered of her fatal beauty, but her air and her very steps revealed her proud, regal soul. He sighed softly, but not unpleasantly, and again rubbed his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, inhaling the crisp morning air. He knew that it would invigorate him and wake him up better than any fit or cup of klah. “Shards,” he heard Fajra mutter from her storage alcove. Eyes still closed, his lips twitched into a smile. She was unorthodoxly adorable. Fajra stepped back out, dressed only in her underclothes, and O’sho opened an eye to regard her. They shared one of their more common ‘I’m-going-to-look-at-you-while-you-look-akwardly-back-at-me-because-I-have-nothing-or-don’t-want-to-say-anything-to-you’ kind of looks. Just as she pulled on a clean shirt, they were unexpectedly joined by a third party.

O’sho arched a brow, confounded and amused as Pratyba, the resident trouble-maker of the Weyr, waltzed in. ”Thank you,” he said politely when she sang his congratulations. He was not pleased at all, however, to see his son being balanced on a tray. That is no way to handle a child. And why did Pratyba have him in the first place? Had he been with her all night? The Weyrleader frowned at this idea. Surely Fajra had not arranged this. He looked quizzically in her direction. When Pratyba set Osro down at the foot of the bed, O’sho held out his arms for him. It would be indecent for him to stand and retrieve him while he was so completely naked. Shard it all, he should not have paused after Fajra swept away from the bed. Osro, however, did not seem to mind and toddled over gleefully to his papa. O’sho picked him up easily and hefted him onto his lap, examining him to make sure he was alright. He took each chubby hand in his finger and lifted them over Osro’s head so he could do so thoroughly.

He looked up when the girl bounded back over to him and offered him a tray of food. That was not all, however. “Very nice, Weryleader.” She eyed him in a way that would have been more appropriate from the other woman in the room, her eyes lingering on his bare chest. He neglected to react to her wink and set aside the plate that she handed him. ”Pratyba, I’m afraid this is hardly appropriate,” he said in a soft but stern voice. ”Thank you for bringing Osro to us, but I must ask how it is that you came to have him.” Osro’s mother undoubtedly had the same questions in mind.

[Admin]

You rise and fall,
Back up against the wall,
What goes around is coming back and haunting you,
It's time to quit.

Fajra turned slowly at the sound of approaching feet, briefly concerned that something vitally important had happened or she would need to chide someone that she was busy with tons of awkwardness piled over the top with O'sho being there. However, then she saw it was Pratyba as the pinkrider sang out a greeting, coming right up. She was briefly confused, though confusion didn't stop much for her. Confusion was something that was quickly ratified with an explanation, an understanding of what was happening. Pratyba was up to something. That was easy to see, something to expect. She then saw Osro, balanced on a tray of food, with Pratyba. What was Pratyba up to? Her confusion deepened. She stood frozen, staring, expression revealing nothing, for once not because she didn't want it to but because she was surprised to the point of speechlessness. Part of her wasn't surprised that O'sho was present for such of thing, even if he wasn't the cause of the speechlessness. He made her feel stupider sometimes.

Why did Pratyba have her son? Attempting to survey the situation, far out of her comfort zone and suddenly faced with a great many things that didn't jive with her, she vaguely accepted the plate of food she was given. Her stomach registered that, giving a little growl though she ignored it. She watched as O'sho took Osro, which vaguely settled the feelings she felt growing in her gut over the hunger. Why was Pratyba eying her weyrmate? Part-time lover? Father of her child? Weyrleader? Person she didn't have a clue about? Something! Why was Pratyba in her weyr when O'sho was naked in it? Why was she commenting on it? Why had she brought food? Question after question ran through her mind, which couldn't rationalize the situation. She just knew it was all wrong, and she slowly got answers to everything she was wondering.

However, they weren't good enough, and she became very clear of one thing. She was very, very angry at Pratyba. At first, she kept it in check. She never stepped out of line. No matter what, she always knew how to react. However, she found herself, listening to O'sho's, very unsatisfied. Anyway, she already knew the answer to the question he posed. She didn't want to hear whatever ridiculously posed answer Pratyba would say, so she set her plate aside and voiced it herself. "B'NYUR SHARDIN' GAVE HIM TO YOU! HE SAID THAT HE WAS SAFE! THE LIAR!" She hadn't meant yell. She had meant to say it with her usual ice. However, the words ripped out of her with a vehemence and a fury, and it only got worse from there. She couldn't bring it back under control. She couldn't be bothered. She was angry at the sight of Pratyba, and there was O'sho, and he always made her feel just a little bit angry, from way back when! She gave it up. She simply yelled, and she didn't stop, because the anger slipped easily into her grasp.

"I gave him Osro because Kalith was flying, and then he showed up and told me that he was safe! Why, by the shards of the first egg, did Oveth even have to fly! HE'S A BLUE! Kal isn't going to pick him! She isn't going to pick anyone but Daidoroth, unless something drastic happens! I mean, they're atrocious. Those are the most cliche lines every known to man." Still ranting, she whirled around, craning her neck to give the bronze a poignant look. Since she was saying it, he could work on better things to say that she would have to hear. Awakened by her rider's sudden flare of temper, Kalith watched on with mild interest. She knew her rider could get like this. She wasn't interfering, especially since she liked nice Daidoroth. She simply stretched luxuriously and eyed Pratyba.

"You aren't responsible! You're in enough trouble as it is! And, and;" she trailed off, one finger pointed accusingly at the shorter girl. She stopped, frowned, and her fury began to fade. She blinked. She'd said at least one swearword in front of Osro. Afzal, having disappeared out of the way into a niche, let out a chirp to confirm that fact. She let out a big lungful of air, eyes briefly closing as she remembered herself. She felt defeated, having slipped and allowed herself such an indiscretion. She opened her eyes, which still blazed a violent blue that suggested that her anger had simply been control and hadn't disappeared. "Just go;" she ordered the pinkrider. Outside, a still resting and lounging Kalith added a hiss to accent the point. Fajra picked up O'sho's pants and threw them at his feet at the same time, only not at his face to avoid Osro.

No one loves you,
And you know it,
Don't pretend that you enjoy it,
Or you don't care.

[4horseshowgirl4]

She was kind of glad that O'sho was the first to respond to her. This was mostly because nothing he said was going to overshadow Fajra, and because, although they were the closest thing to a pair that Fajra would ever get, the whole Flight/after-party thing could not bode well with strict, controlling Fajra, and having O'sho speak could only tick her off more. Pratyba had decided that her new goal here was not to try and win the Weyrwoman's and Weyrleader's favor (the tension in the air made it quite clear that that wasn't going to happen!), but to cause as much chaos as was possible. Or, at least get Fajra to lose her cool, ice-queen front. Surely a trouble-maker as esteemed and accomplished as Pratyba would have no trouble with such a modest goal?

"Oh, you're quite welcome, it was no trouble at all!" Pratyba said as obnoxiously cheerfully as she could, as if she hadn't interrupted a rather emotional and potentially embarrassing, and certainly very personal, interaction between Dalibor's two most important people. "And to you, too, ma'am!" she added with a saccharine smile to Fajra, who seemed too stunned to say anything upon taking her plate. O'sho asked her how she'd gotten Osro. She hesitated for a moment, not quite sure on how to word her answer, because this involved someone else other than herself, and she would really prefer not to get B'nyur into trouble. She thought that B'nyur would really prefer not to get into trouble, either.

However, she needn't have worried. Fajra answered that question for her. But, better yet, far, far better yet-- she blew. She was finally shouting. It was all Pratyba could do to contain the ecstatic smile that was straining to make its way to her face. Oh, she was good! This was the first time she'd ever really heard Fajra yell, at people, anyway. Now, Pratyba being Pratyba, the harshness of the Weyrwoman's words didn't faze her, nor did her rank. Pratyba almost didn't seem to notice that this woman was the one that fed her, clothed her, taught her, and would employ her very soon. It didn't bother her that Fajra was in charge of very nearly every aspect of Pratyba's life, as long as she was a part of this Weyr. Being yelled at was almost more fun when it was authority figures. The Pinkrider wasn't afraid of punishment; she was aware that this incident would probably garner her some, but she didn't mind. There would be a way to make it fun. She just tried not to grin and enjoyed this moment.

However, there was one thing that didn't jive with her. She didn't appreciate Fajra lying blame with B'nyur. Despite the fact that she was still plotting ways to break him up with B'rak so Sol could have the Bronzerider, B'nyur was still her friend, and it wasn't his fault that Oveth had decided to be his wherrybrained self and tried to Chase Kalith. Going along those lines, Fajra might as well have blamed herself for letting herself drown in the emotions of Kalith's Flight! It was ridiculous! As completely unintimidated by Fajra as she was, Pratyba was able to keep a pretty clear head, and she was fairly certain that Fajra knew B'nyur had had no choice but to pawn Osro off to the first person he saw, and that Fajra was not mad about that, but about the fact that that first person had been Pratyba.

"He didn't lie!" Pratyba interrupted with way more merriness in her tone than anyone had a right to. "Osro was perfectly safe with me!" she said impishly before Fajra continued to rant and rave. She had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into the giggles. Angry Fajra was fun and entertaining and amusing and all those wonderful things! And now the Weyrwoman was rambling on about the Bronze and love and other things... she was quite incoherent in her fury! Pratyba glanced back to the two giant dragons and caught Kalith eyeing her. She just gave the formidable Copper a happy little wave before turning back to Fajra, eyebrows rising as the Weyrwoman pointed accusingly at her. Oh, this was great. She was going to be able to spin some great war stories from this!

Then, suddenly, Fajra trailed off, her temper seeming to peter out enough where she could regain control of herself. Thirty second warning!

[/color] Pratyba barked mentally to Oorth. She waited a moment for Fajra to continue, and when the redhead did, it was to dismiss her, as she'd expected. She gave Fajra an overly dramatic, military-esque salute before bowing to O'sho and the two dragons (it was probably unwise to try and annoy Kalith any further than that), before skipping, yes, skipping unabashedly towards the ledge, where Oorth had just landed. The Weyrling swung aboard the Pink, without her straps, naturally, and the mischievous pair was off. A faint echo of laughter was all they left behind before they rounded a bend and were gone. [/right][/font]

[Kila]

O’sho was surprised, to say the very least, when Fajra completely lost her temper at Pratyba. Osro was upset by this too. He had never seen his mama get angry or heard her yell before (nor had anyone in the Weyr to O’sho’s knowledge) and it was scary. He reached out for and clung to his father’s arm, eye wide and a little bit tearful. He was too overwhelmed and intimidated by what was going on before him to utter a sound. O’sho looked away from the sound and frowned when he saw his son’s face. It hurt his heart to see such a look on the little boy’s face. Picking him up again, O’sho turned Osro so that he was facing his chest instead of the two female riders. Osro quickly reached his arms as far around O’sho’s chest as they could reach and hid his face.

O’sho turned back to the fit, frown still on his face, but did not interrupt. He did not approve and he did not like this side of his Weyrmate, but expressing her feelings was both healthy and unstoppable. O’sho knew that the tirade would only end when she wound down herself. He too was displeased with the events in motion, but did not agree with how they were being handled. What had driven Fajra to such lengths? Was it that she had just shared a night with him again? Quite possibly, but she had not been so unkind to him this morning. It had almost been nice. Was it that Pratyba had been in charge of Osro? She would be upset about that, but not as outraged as she was now. He thought Pratyba would normally only get a cold scolding. Was it because Oveth had chased Kalith and B’nyur had given Osro up? No, he knew she was fond of the Healer and his Blue and would not punish Pratyba for his actions. Could it be Pratyba’s downright flippancy in her own Weyr? That she had made such comments to him and her? No. O’sho thought that it must be a combination of everything.

When Fajra finally found herself and trailed off, O’sho could not find it in himself to be upset with her in the least. She looked defeated and was probably emotionally drained after her furious outburst. His eyes lingered on her even as Pratyba literally skipped from the weyr. O’sho felt compelled to comfort her, pull her back into bed with him and Osro so that her two boys could cuddle away all her stress. He had experienced firsthand this morning how comfortably her body fit against his. He had a feeling, though, that her skin would be poison to the touch. Her actions were venomous enough. O’sho covered Osro when Fajra flung his pants at him, but it was unnecessary since they only hit his legs. This seems to be my cue to go. O’sho put Osro down on the bed next to him, even though the boy clung to him still, and pulled on his pants. It had ended in screaming again after all. O’sho felt that staying in her presence would only aggravate her further, so he made to take his leave.

”Here,” he said, picking up Osro again as he walked toward the door and handing him over to Fajra. He would have taken him with him, but he had an idea that Fajra would want to check him over herself. ”He’s safe. I’ll see you shortly.” Shortly. Down in the Weyr. The Weyrwoman would not stay in her own weyr for long, no matter what her mood. Daidoroth opened one eye and gave O’sho a bemused stare as he walked out. Life, my friend. Daidoroth never got kicked out.

[Admin]

I don't care if I'm walkin' alone,
And I'm, screaming into the dark,
Searching for an answer,
Where do I go from here.

Fajra ignored the salute. She forced herself to ignore Pratyba skipping off. As she was, it took force, the ignoring, the tempering, even with the anger fading and swirling in a milder fashion. She had lost her temper. Turns turned to waste. Thoughts tried to turn her life to a wasteland. It was like being a lost little kid. None of it won. The stubbornness and firmness of her being lay far beyond all of that. Still, it was tiring, or perhaps simply the cause of a realization of an exhaustion that was truly always there. She never snapped. She knew the anger was there. She knew it sometimes infected things, like her thoughts on O'sho. However, she didn't lose her temper. She didn't. She was cold and sharp. She kept emotions out of the equation. She kept it all bottled up, but she had finally let it out. It felt like a shock wave, but it got better.

Things organized themselves. They got better quicker. Still, the tips of her finger tingled vaguely from the rush of the bolt of rage that was dissipating into exhaustion. However, with each drip of the tired quality that came, control grew stronger, and she could push it back. What was she going to do? Ignorance was sweet, but there was only so much she could take. Her indiscretion brought other things faintly to light, and she had no wish to let some of them come slipping into her thoughts. She would address the issue as needed. She drew in air slowly, ignoring O'sho for the time being with so many other things. Where had her peace gone? Where had her sanity gone? The facade wore thin. It became tired. Still, she returned to how she was. She returned to her mixed up existence. She didn't allow herself to be lost or young for more than a moment.

Then O'sho placed Osro into her grasp. She adjusted him so she held her right and stared down at him with a blink. He blinked back at her. He looked sad, so sad for him. He was her lost little kid. Something in her cried, at the sight of it, at herself, but not a touch of a teary expression came to her face. She just bounced him, hugging him close to her body but with a gentle hold, to draw little giggles out of him. Her mood had calmed. Ice and control were back. Though her muscles weren't relaxed, she managed to pull off looking only a little more on edge than what was normal for her, and, despite all else, a smile tugged at her face, just for Osro. Her little lost boy. If she smiled, he would smile back at her, and it would all be better when he did that. He smiled at her, chortling, so forgiving. Not all the questions disappeared, but it did get better.

The smile she wore faded as she glanced at O'sho, who was leaving, but then he was gone. A feeling and some halfhearted tension came apart in her chest. However, despite the odd relief, it took a moment for her smile to return. She leaned forward and kissed Osro on the forehead, rocking him slightly in her hold. His little reactions made the smile slowly slip more naturally onto her face. Shortly. The good Weyrleader had said they would see each other shortly. A bit of her cantankerously, with some influence from things not thought of, designed to not have that occur. She had plenty of other things to do that didn't involve him. She could spend half a day at least not infringing on his duties. Anyway, Osro, safe finally in her arms, in her mind, came first, and there were more simple things than duties and work to do before she got down to all of that.

The breakfast that Pratyba had brought still remained. Fajra tilted her head at it slightly, but it wasn't a hard choice. She wasn't wasting food. Setting Osro gently on the furs, she grabbed the plate she had set aside earlier. She returned to the bed and pulled Osro gently back from trying to stand up on the pliable surface near the edge. She broke off a small piece of roll and offered it to him. He opened his mouth and then closed it, so his little teeth snap, a few times. He was getting quite good at all sorts of silly actions. Then he just left his mouth open. Shaking her head at him as she chuckled, she dropped into his mouth. He munched away on it, though he watched her as he did, back to happy but full of some limited caution. Taking a bite of the roll, she smiled at him as she chewed too. She was hungry, and the moment felt more settled. Better, with some faking.

Things will work; was the simple advice a copper voice told her. It gave no real answers, only a peace that she ignored as she continued with her breakfast and feeding bits to her son. Kalith said her piece, to show she understood. Then she went back to sleep, curling a fraction of an inch tighter to Daidoroth before she did so in order to encroach a little more on the space they were sharing. Everyone was gone except for her bronze, and her rider was alright. If only that small offspring would stop giggling so. It did seem to please her Weyrwoman, though, so she supposed it was for their betterment. She'd never been able to figure out how to quiet him anyway, like her rider. The only thing she'd ever seen shut him up quick was the recent rage. Unworried by such thoughts, she drifted into a doze.

At the only hold, I've ever known,
And I'm screaming into the dark,
Searching for an answer,
Where do I go from here.