Drink Responsibly [Bre]

[Kila]

It was evening. The battle had past, but its implications had just started to begin. A message had been sent out to the Weyrleaders requesting a meeting of them all so they could discuss what had happened. It was a preemptory gesture: had they not been called on, they would have called out Dalibor. He and Fajra would be able to meet them and defend their actions, but it had the potential to be a long, political, unpleasant process. And so, he felt like taking a drink now while things were relatively quiet.

Even as he descended to the dining hall with a fine bottle of his own wine and located another for good measure, he knew that getting all the Weyrs together would be a good thing. Thread was not far off, and after harping on Dalibors problems for a while, they could address more important things. He found his glass and extra bottle of wine in a storage area near the corner of the kitchens. It was late and few people were out, so the kitchens were almost completely deserted and the dim corner seemed the perfect place to be.

Settling down onto a bench, he uncorked his own wine and poured himself a glass. Fiera crawled down his arm and onto the table as he sipped it appreciatively. She looked at him disapprovingly; whatever strange potion it was he was drinking smelt funny. She sniffed the bottle and looked at is distastefully, flicking her tail and turning away daintily. ”You wouldn’t care for this, my dear,” O’sho laughed softly, running a finger down her spine. She crooned in pleasure and nuzzled his fingers. He smiled, eyes crinkling in the friendly way they always did. ”How about a nice, quiet night just you and me?” Fiera looked up at him and chirruped her approval, her eyes whirring happy blues and greens. ”We’ll leave Daidoroth and Oblivion to their own devices, what do you think? No boys allowed.”

[Admin]

Picture perfect memories,
Scattered all around the floor.
Reaching for the phone,
Cause I can't fight it anymore.

They had told her to take it easy. Telling Fajra to take it easy was about as smart as poking Kalith, and did you see anyone poking the copper Queen? No, you didn't, but the healers had told her to take it easy. Sure, she had a moderate chest wound and a beautiful bandaged scratch across one cheek, but she failed to see how that was important. She had no interest in listening. How in all of Pern was she supposed to take it easy? She had a meeting of all the weyrleaders of Pern to prepare for even if it was still a ways away, given that dragging all the Sr. Weyrleaders and Sr. Weyrwomen out of their Weyrs took time. She had renegades that were now her responsibility to handle. She didn't want to take it easy! Except that she did, though she'd never let anyone see it. She wanted to forget for a while everything that was happening.

Making a halfhearted effort to actually take it easy, which was probably far worse than if she'd actually simply let herself do some paperwork or necessary research, she stalked across the bowl. She kept her face composed and ignored the way the bandage across her chest, hidden under a clean shirt, tugged at her skin, but she definitely prowled. She wasn't in a good mood. Seeking relief from her thoughts, a relief other than working herself to death, she slipped into the kitchens. They were empty. Except for one person. Two, if one counted his orange firelizard. Her pace slackened and she strode, rather than stalked, over to O'sho, keeping her face set. She peered down at him. He appeared to be drinking. She raised an eyebrow at him. Her lips pursed in a disapproving fashion. Her hands threatened to go to her hips.

Then, out of the blue, she sank down onto the bench next to him. Shoving most pretenses aside, though not all of them, she leaned back, resting her back against the wall and sticking her feet out in front of her. It felt good on her chest wound. There, she was doing exactly what the healers had told her to do. A faint smile quirked her lips. The last time they had ordered her to take it easy, she had been pregnant with Osro. She wasn't pregnant that time. With quick fingers, she reached over and plucked one of the two bottles of wine he had from his hand. She inspected it from a moment. It was a good vintage. Then, with a shrug to herself, she tipped her head back and took a swig, not feeling motivated enough to go find a cup. It satisfyingly burned ever so slightly down her throat and through her mind. "How's it going?" She didn't look at him.

Oh whoa, yes,
I'd rather hurt,
Than feel nothing at all.
It's a quarter after one.

[Kila]

O’sho could tell the owner of the footsteps he heard before even seeing them. The familiar purposeful steps rang in his ears and he turned his attention away from Fiera and toward the approaching Weyrwoman. Rather than frown, he tried to keep a corner of his lips from tugging up into a grin. Both he and the Healers that had tended to Fajra had told her to rest, and it was clear from the practiced lack of expression on her face and the irritated way which she moved that she wasn’t happy about it. None of them had expected her to be, and he hadn’t expected her to listen.

Reaching him, Fajra looked down at the bottle and glass in his hand and pursed her lips disapprovingly. O’sho mimicked her and raised an eyebrow of his own, offering no explanation. It would be deplorable behavior for the Weyrleader to be drinking profusely in public or to conduct himself in an inebriated fashion, but O’sho was a grown man and it was perfectly normal and acceptable for him to enjoy a glass of wine. After all, he wasn’t ragingly drunk… yet.

Fiera looked at Fajra pretentiously and slipped up O’sho’s arm and onto his shoulder when she sat down. Fiera felt Hers’ amusement swell. Fajra seemed quite pleased with herself over this unexpected action. He hazarded to guess that she was a surprised that she was joining them as he was. He made no protest when she took his bottle of Benden, examined it, and then took a swing. At least she was resting.

“How’s it going?” She asked, looking at the bottle rather than him. ”Oh, quite well, considering,” he said companionably, radiating good cheer. ”I had a taste for Benden, tonight. It’s my guess that we won’t have much down time in the future, so I decided to seize the moment.” He smiled. The bandage on his chest matched the one on hers. Both were hidden, among other things. ”Stay for a while.”

[Admin]

She got the call today,
One out of the gray,
And when the smoke cleared,
It took her breath away.

Fajra continued to stare forward rather than look at him as she listened to what he said. His cheery words half disgusted her and half soothed her. Part of her wanted to scream that he and his good cheer could go stand out in a fall. The rest of her wanted very much to find some true comfort in his overbearing paternal quality. In the stress of the occasion, she accepted the clashing, vibrant emotions for once as a momentary insanity. She took a drink in the short span of him talking. The wine calmed her. For once, the numbing effect she could so easily sense beginning to creep in from the very first sip was welcomed. She needed to relax. Her son was safe. The man and the woman who had been haunting her life for turns were dead. She felt no regret or remorse for them, and perhaps that she was what she was trying to hide. The cold fury.

When he invited her to stay for a while, she blinked and finally looked at him. Regarding him with a cool expression and blue eyes that didn't portray any emotions or thoughts that matched the calmness she portrayed, she took another drink out of the bottle she grasped. "It isn't like I have anything better to do;" she replied to him. A touch of disgust heavily laced her tone. Around O'sho, she was generally more relaxed, though few were liable to guess it from the way she behaved. He had a way of putting her in an oddly comfortable state of discontentment. He always managed to put her on edge, even if it was the slightest thing. She could still remember their first meeting. That hadn't gone so well, and that had been a long time ago. Back right after D'ror and Paaie had past away. She let out a slight sigh, not letting the air make any sound.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly at him, intensifying their tendency to show an underlying fire. Then she looked away again. Throughout it all, she never glanced at Fiera. She still showed some of her excellent control. No one could definitively prove that she had given the weyrleader the egg that had hatched the orange. She generally gave the prideful creature only passing glances in order to keep things that way. She took yet another drink of the wine. At that moment, she wasn't caring much about constraining herself. She kept her control on what was important, but she freely drank. Normally, she moderated herself, but she didn't actually get drunk all that easily. She, personally, would have preferred it if she could take a little more, but she managed. Usually. She paused. She knew she should try to say something. She took another drink.

Meet me once again,
Down off Lake Michigan,
Where we could feel the storm blowin',
Down with the wind.

[Kila]

”It isn’t like I have anything better to do.” She sure knew how to make a guy feel special, but O’sho didn’t mind. He was always amused by her wry responses. Many people were intimidated and put off by her cold exterior, but the kindly man had many a turn under his belt and knew how to look at things from the brighter side of life. He could find a silver lining to almost cloud, even if the Weyrwoman was a particularly broody cloud.

The silence between them, though not an uncomfortable one, left them plenty of time to continue sipping out of glass and bottle. Though Fajra did not look at her, Fiera continued to examine the woman critically. Occasionally she would turn her head sharply to look at O’sho and gauge the bizarre emotions passing between them. Growing slightly frustrated, she slid behind his neck and settled on the shoulder farthest away from Fajra. Noticing this, O’sho smiled. Women. ”I don’t believe you’ve met the newest addition to the family,” he said, petting her softly. The Orange turned her head away as though still injured, but a croon grew tellingly in her throat. ”This is Fiera,” he introduced her to Fajra. He didn’t feel the need to remark on how similar his flitters name and personality was similar to someone that they both knew very well.

The Weyrleader soon found his cup empty. He raised his eyebrow at the empty bottom of the glass and reached for the second bottle that he had swiped from the pantry. He felt good, and his head was beginning to get a little fuzzy. He didn’t drink heavily very often at all, though it wasn’t uncommon for him to have a glass at special occasions or in the evening. It wasn’t a secret or a widely known fact, but the Weyrleader was a lightweight. ”That Benden is my personal stash,” he told her with a wink. He sampled the glass that he had just poured. ”Better than what we keep in stock, no surprise,” he said with somber mock expertise.

[Admin]

Wishing you'd come,
Sweeping in the way you did before.
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
For me, it happens all the time.

Fajra blinked at the orange firelizard. Fiera? Aw, he'd named the creature after her! A slightly drunken Fajra at least had the sense to be inwardly touched by the gesture, even though she still refused to show it and only vaguely nodded to the flitter in greeting and acknowledgment. In honor of the gesture, she took another drink. That was at least something. Her mind felt nice and fuzzy. Figuring out how to properly react to an endearing gesture from the one man she generally failed to be able to label easily in her life, despite many attempts, seemed far beyond her in that moment. She still wasn't quite so far lost as to heedlessly accept the emotions buried somewhere within her and go about following her stupid heart.

It took her a moment to comprehend what he was saying when he talked about what they were drinking. "Hey, wine is an unnecessary resource, because I say that morale can go die in a hole for all I care;" she replied to him, falling into a slurred mumble towards the end as she gave up trying to fake that she could speak totally clearly. She failed to properly support her argument as she took another drink from the bottle she still possessively clutched. "Anyway, this is mine now;" she informed him, raising the bottle as if in a toast to no one for a moment to indicate it. She spoke very slowly and deliberately, managing not to slur her words at all by doing that. Then she lowered it to clutch it to her chest.

For a second, she stared at him, slowly blinking her blue eyes. Then she looked away, leaned over, and rested her head on the shoulder that earlier Fiera had conveniently vacated to move away from her. She snuggled comfortably against it without saying a word. Once she was settled, she raised the bottle again and took another drink. It wasn't anywhere near empty, and, due to that, she felt very unsatisfied. Or maybe that was just because she was only leaning against his shoulder. Less than motivated to fix that, she just smirked to herself and giggled faintly, highly amused with herself. All of her work was long forgotten.

And I said I wouldn't call,
But I'm a little drunk,
And I need you now.
Well, I don't know how.

[Kila]

O’sho wouldn’t have pegged Fajra as a lightweight like him, but he was beginning to think he was wrong. He held back a smile as she slurred her words. She would roll any normal day to hear herself speaking so freely. ”Very unnecessary,” he agreed readily, tipping his glass so it tapped against her bottle in a lazy toast. She made some effort after that to pronounce her words clearly and proclaim his late bottle as her own property. ”Help yourself,” he allowed, raising his free hand openly so as to show that she was welcome to it. It was only wine. She rarely asked anything of him, so he wouldn’t dream of begrudging her a small bit of spirits. Faranath knew they both needed to be in good spirit.

Raising his glass again to his lips, he watched as she momentarily regarded him with big, blinking, blue eyes. She must be a lightweight to be buzzed from how little she had drank. So they were similar in some ways after all, and not just each other’s compliments. O’sho did not think he had ever seen her so carefree. She was the same in her attitude towards him as of yet, but it was the absence of the words not spoken and their tenseness that made things so nice. O’sho felt very nice. As his second glass neared empty he knew he was almost at his limit.

Fajra’s next action threw him for a loop. Though she surprised him often, her head on his shoulder was against every emotion she had ever professed. Not knowing what else to do, O’sho threw back the rest of the wine in his glass and let his hand find the bottle, glass abandoned. Cautiously he let his eyes wander down to look at her as she snuggled against him. It was odd coming from her… but nice. She had a smile on her face and, Faranath he swore it was true, she let out a girlish giggle at some thought of her own. The strange noise elicited a similar one from him, which startled both him and Fiera. He quickly put the bottle to his lips to prevent it from continuing.

[Admin]

It's a quarter after one,
I'm all alone,
And I need you now.
Said I wouldn't call.

O'sho might have tried to hide his giggling, but Fajra heard it. She was sharp like that, even drunk. Plus, she could hear it in his chest from where one of her ears was pressed against his shoulder. It turned her silly giggles into hearty laughter. He'd giggled! She'd made him giggle. It was nice. She rocked back in her seat, laughing uncontrollably in her amusement. Somehow, as she shook in over the top laughter, she still managed to raise her bottle of wine to her lips again and take a drink. She had an iron grip on the thing. She didn't even choke out any of the swig. She swallowed it all before she continued in helpless bouts of laughter.

As she began to lose all ability to breathe, she buried her head into the hollow of his neck. Her laughter began to slowly settle after that, the puffs of breathe from each of her airy gasps tickling against his skin. She got her breathe back, though all the air she was breathing smelled like him. He didn't exactly smell clean. Everything around them was starting to smell a little bit like alcohol, at least to her. However, he smelled nice. The musky odor of dragons was on both of them. It wasn't that strong, but, that close, in the press of her cheek again his neck, she could smell it. That was their life. Her life, anyway. Dragons and her son. That was it. How sad. So dedicated, and only two things. She let out a shaky, drunken sigh.

Despite that, her momentary gloom was quick to dissipate. She drew back with a soft, slippery smile on her face. Again, she stared at him for a moment, blinking her blue eyes. As she was, she looked young. She was young, of course. However, between her wide eyes and slightly flushed, freckly face, it was abnormally obvious right then. She usually did everything in her power to defy her age. After another moment of regarding him, she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then she pulled back and didn't look at him anymore. She took another drink, but she was smiling as she did it. The bottle she still firmly had in her possession was slowly growing more empty, and she was thinking less strictly.

I don't know how I can do without.
I just need you now,
I just need you now.
Baby, I need you now.

[Kila]

Shards and shells! She had heard him! How could she not though, leaning unusually close against his shoulder. He felt somewhat sheepish at first, an emotion not very common in his repertoire, but her outburst of laughter made him see the obvious absurdity of the situation. Tipping back his head he began to laugh until he was breathless. Slapping the table with his free hand, he felt all his troubles dispelling.

O’sho let his head hang back and inhaled between laughs until they subsided. Fajra too fought to get a hold of herself. If they continued on like that they’d split their sides and wind up crying with mirth. The rapidly declining pair did not realize the din they were making. Fortunately the kitchens were yet empty except for them. Fajra’s breath against his neck tickled as she reeled herself in. Funny that they had never been close enough to realize how well their bodies fit together.

Again he caught her looking at him, and this time he looked back. The flush across across her face and the shine that the wine gave her eyes made her breath-taking- not that she wasn’t always. He thought to tell her that she shouldn’t always narrow her eyes, that they looked so pretty and so blue when they were opened wide, but the thought was fleeting. She looked so young! Was he really so old? He would always be young in his heart, but the turns did amass. Only in comparison to her relatively few did they look like many.

When Fajra suddenly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, O’sho was reduced to the mentality of a school-aged lad. A wide grin spread across his face and he looked down bashfully (becoming one of his more common drunken traits) as she smiled into her bottle. For some unfathomable reason they were both extremely pleased and proud of the child-like romantic action. They of course had some feeling for one another, but they had never actively manifested them or figure them out like this. Benden did wonders, and after taking another swing of liquid courage and contemplating over the bottle, O’sho turned and kissed Fajra’s forehead when she next moved her head in his direction. He let his arm circle around her shoulder absently and leaned against her lightly, a happy smile on his face. He was so content.

[Admin]

Everything went down on Tuesday,
No one heard a sound,
Songs were falling down in starlight,
No one heard the sound of Tuesday.

Fajra blinked when she received a kiss on the forehead. She hadn't been paying any attention to the rest of his reactions. Self centered like that with her brain going all fuzzy, she hadn't thought there would be any interesting reaction to see. Yet, he had kissed her forehead, and his arm was wrapped around her. She sat there, with him leaning against her, body relaxed but her mind struggling to try to think again. She was safe. She was protected by him. She was drunk. She didn't care. What was happening? Why couldn't she think? What was she doing? She had always pushed him away before. She had never let him into her life. Everything had been begrudgingly taken. He'd taken weyrleadership. He'd given her a son. Was that all their relationship was? A vague family, business, and a bit of slight fondness? Was that all she would ever let it be?

For a moment, she utterly cared. She reached desperately to understand. She tried to understand the rushing off her blood through her body, the pounding in her ears, and everything she was feeling. She tried, but she couldn't. Her mind was numb. Her body was floating peacefully on primal urges. She was happier than she normally ever was, but she didn't understand. The caring faded. She couldn't comprehend it, not like that. The wine only numbed everything. She raised the bottle to her lips again and took a drink. She lowered it and swallowed. She didn't mind the numbing. She'd never been good at feelings. Not since she was a terrorizing six turn old. She tried to raise the bottle again, but it paused short of her lips. It was mostly empty anyways. She licked her lips and blinked her eyes. He was so very close and so happy.

The whirl of her thoughts lasted a moment or two. It ended in nothing. She moved without a thought when she moved. The bottle fell from her grasp, slipping to clatter on the ground when she finally let it go from her iron hold. It cracked, but didn't break, and seeped wine over the floor. Normally, she hated messes. She was an organized person. However, that wasn't an ordinary day, and that definitely wasn't an ordinary moment. She shrugged his arm off her shoulders. She pushed him so he wasn't leaning against her anymore. Then she slowly straightened, rocking forward. Her posture became tense but fluid. She moved like a feline, body twisting like water. She turned to face him, seeming to move in slow motion. She licked her lips again, tasting the wine that was still on her breathe. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

Wait downtown, I'll be there,
No one tell a story like I do,
Like I do, like I do, like I do,
Like I do with you.

[Kila]

Again Fajra acted with little warning and in a way that only drunken, reason-clouded Fajra would, and O’sho was surprised. Pleasantly surprised. He looked down towards her when he felt her move and was greeted with her face unusually close to his. She closed the distance between them with the grace of a Queen in flight and brought her lips to his. Caught up in the moment, O’sho returned the kiss.

It was an odd feeling at first, having her so close, but they touched so gently and tenderly that any unease quickly disappeared in the haze that surrounded them. The lips that were normally pressed together to form a frown were now so free and friendly with his. He reeled back a little in surprise, balance as off as it was, and they both fell. His back hit the bench and Fajra hit him, but neither were hurt- perhaps only a little surprised. From where he was now, though, O’sho was presented the perfect opportunity to stare up into the Weyrwoman’s eyes. They were beautiful, as was she. It was so rare that he should have her in his arms… Mesmerized, he pulled her down to him and kissed her back.

[Admin]

She's a strawberry milkshake,
She's as sweet as a peach,
But she's ice cold,
She never told me.

Another giggle threatened to well up on her lips when O'sho fell back, but it quelled itself well before it left the recesses of her addled mind. Drunk or not, Fajra didn't laugh, especially when she was busy snogging the man she didn't love. Or maybe she did. Feelings weren't important in her state, and that was a wondrous for her. She didn't have to repress them or deal with them. She simply got to live them as if they were nothing and without truly understanding them a wink. Settling her weight on O'sho's chest, she deepened the kiss, refusing to offer any upper hand to him. She hardly needed his approval or involvement. Still, she let him pull her down, accepting the hold with only the slightest defiant edge. Her eyes, blue and gray but not overly clear right then, met his, studying him as she continued to kiss him in a fervent fashion.

Then, all of a sudden, her mind and body, together, not particularly actually working that well, made an amazing realization. Fajra was quite full of a great deal of wine, and she wasn't one to do much heavy drinking. Her mind started to feel heavier, and she pulled back, blinking at him as she tried to pull back. Reaching up with one hand, she brushed at a bit of her hair, barely managing to make the motion. As of late, she'd let her red locks grow out a little bit, so that they actually tangled down a bit closer to her neck. She drew in breath, collecting herself from the kiss with every intention of probably returning to it. Despite any intentions, with little warning, she collapsed, falling onto O'sho's chest as her body went limp. She was still very much alive, chest rising and falling in a regular manner. However, still injured and drunk, she had fainted.

Nobody told me your an island,
I would wait for a life time,
I've been counting the days since you left away,
Nobody reaches her island.

[Kila]

Hand resting gently on her cheek from where he had drawn her toward him, O’sho felt the flush on her face and the faint beat of her pulse where her ear met her neck. The softness of the moment did not last, however. As Fajra pressed her weight against him and deepened the kiss the two gave into their hazy, repressed passion. O’sho’s hand slid from her face to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her beautiful red hair. On top, she took control, which was fine with O’sho as the two pressed closer and closer and the intensity grew.

Suddenly, though, Fajra pulled back, swaying and pushing a strand of hair from her face. O’sho let her pull away from him reluctantly, craving the feel of her against him. He looked up at her with dizzy curiosity as she gathered herself. Was she meaning to tip over like that? He threw out his arms in alarm and caught her as she fell forwards onto him, passed out drunk. He struggled into a sitting position, sitting her in his lap so he could check her out and make sure she was okay.

Alive: a good sign. Just fainted. His mind cast about for what to do next. Blasted wine; he chastised himself inwardly for having such a low tolerance. It was tough being a lightweight. Never mind that… I need to get her to safety. As he picked her up like a shy bride and wobbled to his feet, the task took on a mission-like quality. Yes, O’sho would be her knight and protector. He had enjoyed the bit before that, but the task before him quickly eclipsed the memory. His limbs and his eyes were heavy as he moved forward purposefully, but luckily Fajra was light. He cradled her against his chest as he exited the kitchens.

O’sho staggered to a halt and stared at the dark path before him in awe. The distance (and the stairs) was daunting when tainted with spirits, and the trek seemed many miles. Mine… what are you doing? Daidoroth inquired from their ledge, his glowing eyes peering down at him from their weyr. Taking Fajra to safety! he declared, swaying as he looked up at his lifemate. Daidoroth only looked down in bemusement as O’sho pressed onward up the cliffs. You know you cannot hold your drink, MineOwn, Daidoroth commented after watching for some time. A minor detail, O’sho panted, finally nearing his goal, It makes no difference. Daidoroth snorted. It seems to me that it has made all the difference.

Finally reaching Fajra’s weyr, O’sho crossed, exhausted, to her bed and laid her down carefully, collapsing onto the edge as soon as he had deposited his precious cargo. He was so tired. Sliding off the furs and leaning his back against the side of the bed he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. I did it, Daido, he reported, proud. Very good, Own, the Bronze chuckled. Reassured, O’sho allowed himself to rest and began drifting off to sleep.

[Admin]

And I saw pictures in my head,
And I swear I saw you opening up, again,
Cause I would be heavenly,
If you'd just rescue me now.

Fajra offered no protest to being carried. Anyone, at first glance, would probably blame that on the fact she was passed out, shifting from utter unconsciousness only into an almost heavier sleep. However, even if she had been awake, she probably wouldn't have argued too much that one time, not that she knew herself in such matters well enough to tell. She found some safety in his embrace, even when he was just as drunk as she was right then. Even above being the father of her child, they were bound together. They were the weyrleaders, Queen and King. He had saved her from death at the had of another broken, mad woman. Parenthood. Leadership. Comradery. While she would never admit to any true feelings to him, at least not under normal circumstances, she knew she was stuck with him, and it was, in fact, probably for the better.

When O'sho appeared in her weyr carrying Fajra, Kalith merely turned her head to regard the struggling man with one eye, roused by his noise and the oddities of her rider's vague, unconscious thoughts. She didn't look concerned and bothered. Fairly enamored with Daidoroth, perhaps not in love as humans thought of it but quite close, she trusted the bronze's rider. Anyway, she was far too amused by the sight to bother to raise herself to her feet, scratched up and tired. Fajra and her weren't a perfect pair. She often thought her rider could use a bit of excitement. So, while she kept one eye on O'sho, she slowly closed her lids as he moved out of sight towards the Weyrwoman's bed and drifted back into her state of content sleep. One of her fangs was left barely exposed in a smirking fashion. Laid onto her furs, Fajra remained unaware.

Fajra didn't stir for several candlemarks, and the already late night grew later, starting to turn into morning. It was almost as if she were following her usual schedule, rising with Rukbat for another full day. In truth, it was just enough for her to sleep off the alcohol to the point of being able to be conscious again. Without opening her eyes, she raised her head a fraction of an inch. Her cheek hurt. Probably from kissing. That thought and memories started to piece themselves back together, before she pushed them back. Where was Osro? That concern took precedent in her mind, but it was quickly satiated as she remembered. In the care of others, safe and sound, was where he was. Not a perfect situation to her, but she was always losing time with her son. It was a cost of being a dragonrider, a cost made greater by her rank as the Weyrwoman.

The dim glows in the weyr made her head hurt as she opened her eyes, but Fajra ignored the pain. Her whole body screamed protests to the world as she raised herself up into a sitting position. Why in the world had she drunk a whole bottle of wine? To forget about her horrible life, and there it was, coming back up on her mind. Letting out a heavy sigh, she peered about herself. In the dimness of her aching mind, she could feel that Kalith was still sleeping fitfully. The Weyrwoman blinked, and peered around again. Her hair was a mess, sticking out from all over her head. She reached to brush it away and rub her eyes. Finally, she noticed O'sho then where he was sleeping next to her bed. "This is why I don't spend time with you." Being hungover made her sarcastic. The tiny, minuscule joke wasn't particularly light in tone.

The days are drifting away from me,
I still wake up burning through everything,
And it's all I know,
Somebody save me now.

[Kila]

O’sho’s internal clock made him stir early in the morning, but his fatigue was such that he fell back into sleep without moving. Fajra’s movement in later hours was not enough to wake him, but the sound of her voice vaguely jogged him mind. MineOwn, Daidoroth prompted him gently. O’sho opened his eyes slowly and focused. “This is why I don’t spend time with you.” He closed them. The previous nights events came back to him and he was caught somewhere between a chuckle and surprise. He had definitely not imagined it: his lips felt almost bruised from how hers had sought them out. The thought was oddly provocative.

Letting out a tired sigh, he braced an arm against the bed and pulled himself to his feet. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and then a hand though his hair, he looked down at her warily. No smart comment would help the situation. He would have apologized to appease her, but the words did not seem sincere on his tongue so he said nothing. Instead, the Weyrleader only nodded to his disgruntled Weyrwoman and turned to leave.

[Admin]

You didn't blink,
You just assumed,
That you're the one I needed,
And I tried, and I tried.

Fajra blinked, still trying to ease the pain in her head, as O'sho levered himself up onto his feet. She stared at him, red hair a mess and freckles evident on her cheeks. When he nodded, she got the urge to hurl just from watching him. How could he do that? Oh, right, he was a man, and they were like that, and, by Faranth, he was leaving! Where in all of Pern was he going? Her head hurt. The cut on her chest hurt. The other one on her cheek hurt. Her lips hurt, chapped and sticky from sleep and last night. Indignation roused the Weyrwoman, though, and she rose up in her furs to lunge forward. She grabbed the back of his shirt, giving it a vicious tug. She wasn't in any shape to actually do much, but it would at least stop him. That morning, she was in no mood to play nice, at least not with him. Releasing the fabric, she fell less than gracefully back onto the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" The comment could have sounded sensual, but Fajra simply came off as irritated. It had been a long night, especially with the nights that had proceeded it. Sleepless candlemarks on the sands, and, oh Faranth, Osro. For once, she would concede she needed some help, at least to him, even if she might not choose to articulate as such. In fact, it took her a moment to articulate anything. She opened her mouth a couple of times, but that just served to make her cheek and jaw ache worse. "Osro. I should be checking on Osro now. We smell like wine." Not the most logical string of thought she'd ever made, but she was trying. She leaned her head back, feeling like an awful mother as she thought about it. The scratch on her chest gave a pang. She reached up to press her hand against it, then winced at her touch.

But then I thought,
What is all this trying for?
Don't say I didn't warn ya,
Goodbye from California.

[Kila]

O’sho stumbled backwards as a furious fist clenched the fabric of the back of his shirt and pulled mercilessly. This action was coupled with an irritated demand of where he was going- or at least had thought he was going. Again by her bedside, he sighed and turned around to face her, head still fuzzy and eyes still tired. Fajra was not in much better shape; she had fallen back against her pillows and was now searching for words, her normal composure gone. Any irritation he might have had about her jerking him around melted and he sat down on the edge of the bed as she finally forced out a string of barely connected words.

”We do smell like wine,” he agreed with a half-amused twitch upward of his lips. ”And we don’t look to hot either.” He reached out and tucked a messy lock of hair behind her ear. He dropped his hand as she leaned back, but started forward when she pressed her hand to her chest and winced. His fingers brushed her shoulder lightly in concern and he hovered close by and looked her over, but again he relented.

”Move over, he said, getting up. O’sho lifted the corner of her furs and slid into bed beside her, deaf to any protest. It was a brash move in their little relationship, but his slight hangover made the implications and consequences seem unimportant. He pulled the furs back over them and rested beside her. Taking her hand gently from her chest he placed it gently down by her side. ”Osro is fine. I looked in on him last night before I went to the kitchens and he was safely with one of the women. He’s a resourceful child, but none of his caretakers dare to let him out of their sight anymore. We can send Afzal or Fiera to check on him just in case.” He smiled at her and then closed his eyes and lay back. They would be no help to anyone in their present state. The best thing for them to do would be to sleep a little while longer and then take a wash to wake themselves.

O’sho’s back cracked painfully and he suppressed a hurt expression. He had not slept very well on the floor and hey, (he wasn’t into self denial) he was no young runner. He shifted and moved on. ”You know, he said to Fajra, his sense still slightly off, ”It’s nice when you’re real, even if it is only being openly irritated with me. It’s refreshing.”

[Admin]

You must have been,
Relieved to see the softer side,
I can understand,
How you'd be so confused.

Probably for the best, Fajra failed to notice O'sho's amusement as he repeated her words, feeling too obtuse to try to think too much about them. When he reached over and touched her hair, she twitched, but any movement continued to compound the pain in her head. She settled for glowering at him. A light touch on her shoulder quiet her aggression, making her tense but rousing no protest from her. Taking a neutral stance never made her a compliant individual, and she stoutly refused to move an inch when he requested for her to move over. She left him a third of the furs and gave him not a single smidgen more, crossing her arms, loosely to avoid her injuries, as he folded the blanket over them. She twisted her hand in his grip, taking it from her side and placing it forcefully across her lap. Her irritation grew with each tiny second.

The crack of O'sho's back was basically audible, and Fajra definitely noticed his expression of pain. A startling realization came to her, defying the bounds of her normally logical manner. "You're old." Fajra was not, in truth, a very tactful individual. However, her statement wasn't particularly rude. She spoke as if it was a surprising observation. For a moment, she considered him, frowning vaguely without, for once, pursing her lips. Then she quickly pushed her surprise back, hiding it away as his words dug at her sore mind. She refused to fall into open taunting, and his words definitely seemed like a taunt, if he knew her at all. He had to recall the last time he'd ever said something truly open to her; she wasn't one to take things with much true grace. "Definitely old;" she muttered, tone turning darker and more vindictive.

The debt paid for the moment, Fajra turned away from him, purposefully shoving her shoulder between them. Curled on her couch, Kalith stirred and stretched as she came awake. She swung head around and one swirling eye settled to gaze through the entrance of her rider's sleeping quarters. Mouth partially agape to show her teeth, she eyed the pair of them. Fajra knew the emotions and the amusement behind the fierce face of the copper. She crossed her arms and glowered back at the Queen. "Shove it;" she snapped at Kalith before she could even comment. Settling back on her haunches as she rose, the copper let loose loud, shaking rumbles of laughter. Her rider hadn't been in such a fun mood for such a long while! The true relationship of the Weyrwoman and the Queen was captured in that private moment.

I'm a bitch, I'm a lover,
I'm a child, I'm a mother,
I'm a sinner, I'm a saint,
I do not feel ashamed.