Can only drift so long (F'ur

[dragon]

The darkness of exhaustion only lasted so long before a soul had to return to the light. Dorava knew before she even opened her eyes that she was not in her own furs. Her whole body ached and sang at the same time, from hours passed before passing out. With a low groan, she lifted her head, blinking the bleariness of sleep away. As much as she probably didn't want to know, she was at the same time curious to find who it was she'd ended up tangled with. She only had vague recollections of people coming to her in that span of time when Aonith had ruled her consciousness.

The last thing she expected to see was none other than F'ur himself laying there. At once she was revulsed. Him? Inocenth? How? The dots just did not connect for her at all as she tried to shove the cobwebs of aching exhaustion aside. Disentangling herself from the man who could possibly be described as no less than hating her, the man she really detested the company of, she seriously considered getting up and slipping out before he even awoke. Just to avoid a scene or trouble with him.

But just the act of getting untangled and rolled over proved one point to her quite clearly; she wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Oh, Faranth she was sore. Lifting one hand, she touched her face for a moment before looking at it. No blood or scabs, so she hadn't been punched to get that swollen lip. Allowing the hand to fall back down at the behest of gravity to her chest, she heaved a tired sigh as she stared at the ceiling.

Faranth, the situations she ended up in.

A slight motion and sound of dragonhide on stone got her attention, and she rolled her head over to see. There, in the far end of the room, Aonith was all curled up and nestled against ... yep. None other than Inocenth. Well, it hadn't been a forced catch, then. Not if she was still laying there by the blue. Coming to awareness now that Dorava was awake again, Aonith lifted her head from the stone where it had been resting. The green looked at her rider for a moment before sending her a reassuring mental nudge. That done, she twisted her head around to poke her nose into the edge of Incocenth's wing. Wiggling her head, she shoved her head under his wing before relaxing again, all prepared to go back to sleep, tail curling a bit tighter around Inocenth's.

Heaving yet another small sigh, Dorava could only hope that F'ur wasn't going to wake up and kill her on sight. Or ... whatever. Because she was in no condition to fight back. But why? Just ... why F'ur?! Anyone else, anyone?

But it was too late, things were said and done, and like it or not, she was stuck in the same room as F'ur. Neither of them wearing a single scrap other than the furs shared between them. She stuck her tongue out for a moment, disgusted. Straight though she was, Dorava would have preferred a female partner over F'ur any day of the week. Pulling the nearest fur up a tad higher to make sure she was covered, wondering where her shift had gotten off to, Dorava settled in to wait.

But, by the first egg, where had her shift gotten off to? She was not about to go ambling about the Weyr in her birthday suit. That was Kali's thing.

[Requiem]

Inocenth, too, was awake, but content. He'd twined himself willingly with Aonith, the dragons a mess of limbs and necks and wings and tails, such that there was no easy way of separating the two. His wing was lifted in silent response to Aonith's burrowing, just enough to allow her head beneath before it settled back over her. Then his own head coiled around, poking under from the other side, and all his lids fell downward. How long are you going to pretend at sleep, F'urMine? She doesn't appear to be going anywhere. The amusement behind the sibilant words was palpable, but the man in the furs didn't give himself away by stirring. Taking the wave of irritation for what it was, Inocenth mentally shrugged and nuzzled the side of Aonith's head briefly, fully intending to go back to sleep himself. He'd carried the green as far as he possibly could, until every muscle screamed in protest, but he didn't regret it. Still and all, returning to sleep sounded nice.

Now, he hadn't been feigning sleep for long and, to be fair, F'ur found little motivation to stir as it was. A longer affair than he was used to. Inocenth was accustomed to snatching and taking his pleasure, then leaving the green to her own devices, and F'ur's end mirrored the blue's. The light filtering in suggested hours rather than minutes, and even taking into account most of this time had been spent sleeping, the not so rarely used muscles were tight enough to suggest it had been a drawn out affair. On an empty stomach. One of F'ur's many lesser known weaknesses was food, and he didn't do well on an empty stomach. It made him feel sick, mildly faint and downright sluggish, in fact. High metabolisms came with their price.

So, yes, when Dorava moved to untangle herself, awakening F'ur, he didn't bother stirring. Quite comfortable stomach-down, face turned into the crook of a bent arm, and a glance from one half-opened eye revealed well enough what he already knew he'd see. And who said nightmares were only for the sleeping? How had Ino...scratch that, why had Ino chosen, of all the females, the one bonded to this woman? Yet even that irritation - no, trepidation - couldn't stand long against his hunger, and he found he didn't much care. The furs were warm. The flicker of a pink tongue almost made him snort. Really? Then, just to prove he was no less childish, even if he was a few turns older, the man stuck out his own tongue in return. "To you as well," he murmured, a touch groggily.

"You planned this," he added. "To get back at me for the nose." Nuzzling into his own arm, he reached blindly for the fur that had slid down into the trough of his lower back, dragging it up with a small shiver.

[dragon]

The expression and comment in mimicry of her own frustrations caught Dorava's attention, and she looked back over at him. Of course he was awake. No telling how long he had been, too. But ... he looked adequately miserable, too. Dorava couldn't hold back a small chuckle. "Good morning, grumpy." She greeted, unconsciously pulling her fur up a little higher as she eyed his effort to do the same. Only backward. Trust F'ur to do things backward to everyone else.

Aonith nuzzled Inocenth's side a little bit, but ultimately ended up lifting her head anyway, to keep an eye on the two riders, touching her nose to Inocenth's for a brief moment before she got her head turned around that far again. Be nice, mine. She warned, gently.

Like I am seriously going to try and pick a fight while in this state. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Aoni. Dorava sent back, before shifting her shoulders a bit. Really now, where had she left her shift? Or, where had F'ur stashed it? She assumed he had to have done it, given that he was the one she had ended up getting stuck with. And given the way she felt, he hadn't been shy about it either.

Wait. Planned this? He was out of his sharding mind! Dorava snorted. "In your dreams." She answered. "Yes, F'ur. I planned to jump your bones cause you broke my nose. That just ... makes so much sense." She said, sarcastically. Then laughed out loud at the absurdity of the thought. "Cracked shards, F'ur. What have you been drinking?" He had to know as well as she did that she'd had as much control over the outcome of that flight as he had. It was just him being absurd all over again, and trying to place blame on her head. Even if there was no blame to place. "If you're going to get your undies in a wad, you'll have to find them first." She remarked, poking fun at him, knowing pretty well that under that fur he was just as undressed as she was.

He looked sorta sleepy and sorta irritated ... but at least he wasn't jumping all over the place yet, trying to break her nose again. Or worse. Thank Faranth for small favors.

Don't be so pessimistic. Aonith instructed, flicking the one wing that wasn't tangled in Inocenth's appendages. She tilted her head, and regarded Inocenth with one eye while watching the furs with the other eye. I am trying to get mine to be good. Aonith told Inocenth, by way of an apology.

[Requiem]

"Is it still morning?" He didn't really care, if truth be told, but he was feeling like being ornery, so there you go. She'd called him grumpy, after all. Might as well live up to the nommiker. The one eye cracked back open at her snorting incredulity, and he wondered if it would be terriby rude to simply turn his back to her and go back to sleep. Needed food, though, that was the thing. Really, could she not tell that he was just making a wisecrack? Most people knew enough not to take him too seriously; F'ur rarely got serious. It was a bad sign when he did, actually. With the possible exception of his weyrmate, but even F'lix often looked wary when F'ur stopped joking around.

Half raising onto his elbow, he rubbed at the gathering stubble on his jaw. He usually shaved in the mornings. There were a lot of things he usually did in the mornings that had been neglected this morning. Taking the opportunity to stretch while Dorava laughed at her own 'cleverness,' the sinewy, rope-like muscles moved beneath scarred skin. There was hardly an inch of F'ur that wasn't scarred in one way or another below his neck...from claw and bite marks, to burns, to blade scars. Few enough of them were terribly nasty. He only remembered the ones that were particularly bad, and those could be counted on one hand. Part of being a fighter was knowing how much abuse you could take and going with the lesser amount of punishment if at all possible. He'd fought too many battles against bad odds to come out unscathed. The worst was obviously the dragon bite to his upper chest and shoulder, leaving behind stripes of scar tissue where the teeth had dragged when he was thrown, along with the initial piercing wounds. But there was also a nice scar on his inner thigh where his femoral had been slashed. He'd managed to staunch the bloodflow long enough for a hop Between back to Fort - which was risky in that state but not as risky as just bleeding out all over everyone - and was back in the ranks in short order. F'lix liked that scar a lot for whatever reason. Then the time he'd been gutted, saving the hide of a kid new to the wing. Apart from that though most were superficial. Close calls if it had been a little bit more to the left or a slightly different angle, yada yada but superficial.

F'ur stifled a yawn as Dorava finished. "Mm. Rather not think about what I've been drinking recently, if you don't mind." Various fluids, no doubt. Well, great, now he was thinking about it and his mouth felt funny. Like he needed to scrub his tongue out with sandpaper. Time to change the topic before he really did go in search of something to scrape all the skin off the inside of his mouth with. He didn't think F'lix would appreciate bloody mouth overly much. The kitten would probably be twitchy enough as it was. All the pretty platitudes about Flights aside, lovers still got jealous when you slept with other people. (Speaking of which, Mi'rah, ewwww.) "My 'undies' are permanently lost, Dorava. Not unlike your sense of humor." He wrinkled his nose at her, the expression almost playful. "Don't worry, greenrider. I'm well aware that I'm hardly enough man to satisfy so - robust - a woman. Old grudges aside. Still, if you had wanted to get back at me, this is a good way." He shuddered, perhaps a bit dramatically.

"At least admit that it could have been worse. I could have been...oh, I don't know. T'ke or something. Or Sel'n." A sly smile at that. Stretching once more, the man squinted at Dorava. "Are you planning on staying there all day, looking like a wind-up toy that won't wind down? I promise that if you flash your ass when you scurry off, it won't kill me. Or maybe it will, but then, you'd probably be just fine with that."

Inocenth rumbled softly at Aonith, not bothering to remove his head from under his wing, though he lifted it enough to peer out from beneath. Mostly so Aonith wouldn't feel the need to move hers. No need to bother. Mine doesn't mind being sniped at, so long as she doesn't try to strangle him if he returns it to her in kind. I could tell him to play nice but it would do little good, he added, with a mild snort. The blue nuzzled his claim - or was she the one who claimed him? - his eyes their usual calm blue. You may tell Yours that he is no threat to her right now, if that will help. F'urMine is faint from not eating. She'd have to push him out of the furs to get him to move.

[dragon]

Dorava looked around a bit. "I have no idea what time it is, and I can honestly say I don't much really care." She answered. Though, all things considered, she probably should. She didn't even remember if she had drills or lessons today. But oh well. No one could hold it against her really ... it wasn't like she could control what day Aonith decided to take to the skies. Anyone who tried was just an idiot. Stretching a big, she tucked her hands behind her head and wondered what Val was up to. She didn't normally leave the crippled blue by himself for very long. But Love hadn't come screaming for her yet, so she assumed Val was okay.

She rolled her head over to look at F'ur again, and shrugged. "I guess that means I have a pretty good shot at finding your undies then." She remarked. Because she knew for sure that she had a sense of humor. It just wasn't ... appreciated. So she didn't use it much. Which meant, by context, he had undies. They just weren't appreciated and not used much. "Though I do think people would look at me funny if I started rooting around in your things looking for them. Noooo ... I'm not that interested in getting interesting and strange labels attached to my name."

F'ur sure was acting oddly. Very different from every other time she'd encountered him. Though just as snide as always, he wasn't nearly as violent. But that was okay. Snide and callous she could deal with. Getting her nose broken for her again ... not so much. Maybe getting laid was all F'ur needed to settle down. Apparently F'lix wasn't doing the job. Though ... Dorava distinctly wished it had been someone else to have done him the favor. She was still rather uncomfortable with the notion of having shared furs with the man.

"Me?" Dorava asked, distracted. "No. Not really. Just until I feel like I can stand up and not totter about like I'm drunk." She answered. "What about you?" She found it funny that she tried to puff himself up on talking down other fellows. T'ke she didn't know much about, so she didn't understand the reference. But ... she wasn't going to tell F'ur that she'd already done Sel'n. And outside of a flight too. Shards, she'd almost had the man's kid. Granted, outside of his consent, but whatever. She had hardly cared to have his consent, and let him know it too. He hadn't been terribly happy to hear that either.

"I can't say as I ever wished you dead, F'ur." She admitted, not entirely sure if that was a wise thing to do or not. Sure, she greatly disliked and distrusted the man. But wishing him dead? That was a tad far fetched. Dorava tended to be pretty forgiving. Those she aimed to have dead usually died. Usually before they knew they were targeted. "I'd also have a sharding fine time trying to explain to Mi'rah why you turned up dead in my flight bed." Dorava remarked, in an attempt at humor.

Aonith huffed and rumbled, tickled. I think mine knows she's not in any immediate danger. She hasn't moved yet. But I do wish she'd learn how to talk nicer to folk. She remarked, tilting her head to the side and allowing her eyelids to slide shut as she got nuzzled. That was one thing that Aonith loved to get: lots and lots of attention. She really did like her boys attentive. Pushing them out might be interesting to watch though. Aonith remarked, before turning and tucking her head down again, content. Occasionally she did have a twisted sense of humor, and would sometimes prank people ... whether they were hers or not. But no, she wasn't going to go shove F'ur out of his furs.

[Requiem]

A brow raised at her. Yeah, beginning to bore him. Or maybe that was just the low blood sugar. Turning onto his back, he half-curled into the furs, wriggling down further toward the foot of the bed. The bluerider didn't know what he really expected out of her. Dorava possessed less wit than most, and although it seemed that she might be making an attempt at humor, the humor was so awkward it just wasn't funny. Or particularly intelligent, when it came right down to it. A slightly fancified version of 'yes, you are,' 'no, i'm not'. Rather like circular reasoning, in fact. Declares the woman, 'the sky is orange.' The man then says, 'it is blue.' Then the woman says, 'well, blue must be orange, then, because it is orange.' Not that Dorava would ever see that, in her arguments, and F'ur was not the sort to bang his head against a wall too many times before realizing the wall was there and avoiding it entirely.

"Mmm? Something similar," he responded vaguely. It wasn't that she'd given him such a work over that his muscles were jelly, not in the slightest, but considering he rather figured he'd likely look just as wobbly...let her think what she would. He'd been known to faint on occasion, a most inconvenient thing for a northern dragonrider. Not too many people respected fainters. F'ur wasn't at that point right now, and wouldn't let it get that far, but he still had no real inclination to give Dorava any ammunition. Any weakness. It was sad to say of a wingmember, but her continued spite made of her an enemy; F'ur was undiscriminating when it came to the sharpness of his tongue. It was teasing, merely, and he kept the harsher judgments - the real ones - to himself. Dorava's acidness was more or less directed at him alone, and he had little doubt she'd take advantage of any weakness that she spied. He had far too many of those. Far too many, from bad reactions to alcohol to lingering effects left over from the encounter with that green that should have killed him.

A flicker of a wry smile for the greenrider. "I stand corrected. Wouldn't want my death to be an inconvenience to anyone." He tsked his tongue lightly. The wiry man stretched again, eyes finding the ceiling and tracing the patterns there. "I'd be rather more concerned about my weyrmate taking exception to your going through my things to satisfy your panty fetish, rather than worrying about what the little mice would whisper about you," he commented liltingly. "Though they do say it's easier to mend broken bones than a shattered reputation. Maybe you have the right of it, in the end. Not that reputations always serve you as you wish they would." That last was stated a touch ruefully, before he reined in his tongue, chalking it up to the touch of lightheadedness that made the air sound funny as it stirred idly in the room. A certain hollowness that shouldn't have been, in his ears.

Mine holds no fondness for Yours. He would treat her no differently...though he treats her no differently than he does most people. It's the thoughts that are different. Inocenth's lids closed. He had little concern that Aonith would be offended at that; Hers obviously wasn't fond of His either. Rather amusing, actually, when all was said and done. Best to leave them to their half-squabbles, I think. It would not be so hard to leave if either is bothered too much.

[dragon]

Dorava considered F'ur for a time, noting that he was acting funny. As if half delirious or something. She quirked her mouth off to one side at his half hearted answers that half the time really didn't make any sense to her at all. Dorava really didn't know what to make of it. Levering herself up to a sitting position, she held the fur to her chest with one hand as she looked around the room, leaning most of her weight on the other palm. Her shift had to be around here somewhere.

Unbeknownst to her, Aonith was considering the situation. If half distracted by Inocenth and really more wanting to snuggle with the blue and take in his warmth. I see your point. She answered him, before reaching out to bestir Mandyr from her beauty sleep. It took a lot of prodding to get the flitter to understand what Aonith wished her to do, but the sleepy fat green finally understood and left Dorava's own furs to go on her mission.

Very shortly she reappeared in the flight room, a redfruit dangling from her grasp by its stem. Swooping low over the furs, Mandyr cheeped and let go of the stem before flying away to perch on Aonith's head. There, she pattered around in a small circle, not at all caring about the fruit anymore, which had landed smack in the middle of F'ur's stomach with a whop. Plopping down, the fat green went right back to sleep right there. Aonith blew a sigh at her new hat, but laid her own head on Inocenth's shoulder again, content and ready to go back to napping herself.

Dorava looked at the redfruit for a moment, and then at F'ur in silence. A redfruit? Her own Mandyr? She almost shot a look at Aonith, but instead just watched the bluerider. It would be her luck if he decided that was the first shot of war. Like she'd really try to start a food fight in the flight rooms...

[Requiem]

Was she actually being silent? He glanced over at her, fully expecting to find a sleeping greenrider - for the life of him he couldn't figure out why else she might be holding her tongue - but no, she appeared to be looking for something. He might have laughed at the way she clutched the furs to her chest, like it was any great mystery what was under them or there was any real need for modesty at all. Communal baths say what? He was positive he'd seen her there, at least in passing, even if his memory wasn't sickeningly good enough to remember Flight tumbles in detail. Easier if he didn't remember. Dorava was safe from any attempts at checking her out, but he'd leave the woman to her vanities. Most likely she'd think he was insulting her again, even though it should have been fairly obvious that a man who preferred men probably wouldn't find women terribly attractive.

Now the dark blue dragon wasn't much of a one for cuddling. Even His didn't often touch him apart from mounting or dismounting, unless it was to oil him. That said, he made certain concessions for the green that he'd claimed rather than snatched, and her head on his shoulder was tolerated. In part because he was drifting back to sleep himself. Not a heck of a whole lot would wear a dragon out faster than carrying a larger one for an extended period of time. He watched the firelizard return, noted the redfruit, and huffed an amused huff at the almost accusatory look he could feel being directed his way. Oh, yes, he'd told the green. His rider was displeased with that, but notably not in a mood to argue with his dragon. A silent mental brush of thanks to Aonith, even if it was something of a wry expression of gratitude. He didn't think there was any reason to hide it from Dorava, who looked like she'd swallowed something large, slimy and unsavory, staring at the redfruit as she was.

Glancing over at Dorava again, F'ur didn't bother keeping the amusement out of his eyes at her expression. Fight or flight mode. Shocking her instincts had kept her alive thus far, if their first meeting was any indication of how effective they were. What, did she think he was going to gripe at her over a redfruit dropped on his stomach? Oh, Faranth, it bruised my delicate skin, die bitch! The growl he gave her was playful, teeth snapping together at her. After his little bit of fun, he caught up the fruit and took a bite of it, rising up on one elbow and wiggling himself up until he was half-reclined against the headboard. "Your nose is safe," he commented dryly, between bites, the man regarding her out of the corner of his eye. "And your breasts, too. I happen to have a fondness for people who are flat-chested, if you forget. Though if you insist on modesty, I can't complain...less offensive to the old eyes, you know."

Another bite, another glance, and he sighed. "Shards, woman. When are you going to figure out I'm not your enemy? And even my enemies were safe out of the field." Turning his head to one side, he spat out a seed over the ground. Not his room, and anyway, whoever maintained these Flightrooms would be in to clean up and change out the linens. What was a seed compared to the rest? Heh. He saluted Aonith with the half-eaten redfruit. "Trust a Benden rider to not understand what was behind a reputation." Not that he was going to explain it to her. A Fortian who couldn't keep himself from flaring up at the least provocation and smashing someone else's face in didn't keep his dragon for long. There was discipline, at Fort. His reputation came from another venue entire, and was shattered in the last turn or two at Selenitas. Not that you'd know it by how half the population still treated him. Ignorance is bliss? Try annoying.

[dragon]

Dorava merely shrugged at his comments. "You must have really been starving. How did my shift taste? I can't imagine it tasted too good. Glad you like the fruit though." Entirely aware that there was no way F'ur had actually eaten her garment, she jabbed at him for it anyway ... considering how he'd already eaten about half that fruit in two bites. It seemed that had been what was wrong with him. Lack of food. Or something. For now with that shiny red half eaten thing in his hand, he was right back to his old self.

"I know you're not my enemy, F'ur. You're silly. You're in my wing, why would you be an enemy? I just ... don't ... exactly trust you with my person. And you can hardly blame me for that." Dorava answered honestly, before leaning over to peek under the furs. Never before had she so very effectively lost her clothes in a flight. It was beginning to look like she was going to have to walk home wrapped in a fur or something. Because there was no way she was going to fly in her skivvies. Not that Aonith ... was showing any inclination to move.

Dorava still didn't understand why Aonith had done what she'd done. Just ... why?? It didn't make any sense at all.

Aonith saw the salute cast her direction, and hummed a little bit, squinting her eyes shut. She was quite pleased that her idea had been taken in so kindly, though her ploy hadn't quite worked like she'd planned it. She'd actually been trying to make it seem like Dorava had sent for the fruit, but oh well. So much for trying to smooth rocky ground.

Finally, Dorava rolled off the bed, dragging her fur along with her, wrapping it around herself as she went. Padding around the room barefooted, she walked around the dragons and back again. "Did you really eat my shift?!" she asked, with some amusement. She was really surprised that she really, truly, couldn't find the thing. Surely the dragons weren't laying on it!

[Requiem]

Shift, yum. He was part moth. And part wolf, or some other such beastie. It would be fun to have wings, though...probably bird or dragon wings as opposed to moth wings. Paying Dorava little mind apart from a small smile, he set about polishing off the redfruit, even going so far as to eat the pit until all that was left was the stem. His mother had once claimed that eating the seeds of fruit would start them growing in your stomach. If that was true, he had a veritable orchard in there, and they must have been of miniature trees.

"Tch. Can blame you for just about anything, including the weather. That said, you hold grudges an awfully long time, you know that?" He twirled the stem between his fingers, watching her peering beneath the furs. Still looking for that shift, was she? The shift she'd thrown over...G'tor, was it? F'ur hadn't paid that close attention to the other males in the room, when it came right down to it. He supposed he could have told her that she gave it away while intoxicated on dragonlust, but then he wouldn't get to watch that puzzled face as she dragged herself out of bed and padded around, clearly not comprehending why her shift might not be here.

He tossed the stem and caught it again, sliding out from beneath the furs and not bothering with silly things like modesty. Pants yay. "Anything's possible. I do have this rather awkward taste in my mouth, though I was chalking it up to where its been," he responded cheekily. "Best probably just to give it up for lost. Not the prettiest frock around, anyway. How long had you had it, a decade?" Besides, G'tor might want to pad around in it for awhile longer. It was like to fit him, considering it was the Amazon woman's.

Pants on, he scrounged around for his shirt, then shot a smirk back over his shoulder at the woman huddled in her furs. "If you bribe me really, really nicely, I might be convinced to go find you something other than the Flightroom furs to wear." Fully clothed, he ran his fingers through his hair and yawned again, rolling his shoulders. Then, food. He might possibly kidnap the kitten first, if he wasn't involved in drills...had yet to decide one way or another on that. The redfruit took the edge off his hunger a little, but wasn't going to substitute for an actual meal.

[dragon]

"Grudges? Me? No, not at all." Dorava answered, good naturedly, before returning to the bed and kneeling on the edge of it. It was quite apparent her shift was no where to be seen, but oh well. She couldn't help but laugh at his comment on a funny tasting mouth, though. "Well, F'ur. I hadn't know you cared what my wardrobe looked like, but if you're really volunteering to get me a new one ..." She shrugged, setting down to sit on her feet. "Naw ... it wasn't quite that old. They tend to get holes in them by the time they're that old..." she answered, playing along for the time being. Nevermind it'd been a perfectly good shift and a nice one at that. It was only maybe a turn old, and still quite thick enough to be comfy in the chilly nights. Besides ... it wasn't like she had anyone to take it off for. So ... herself was all she had to please with it.

"Oh? Really? You'd do that for lil old me?" Dorava asked, tilting her head. Be her luck he'd bring her something he knew she'd never wear, or wouldn't be able to get into at all. "I quail to think what you might demand as an acceptable bribe ..." She really was willing to walk out in her fur, though ... despite being holdbred at heart she was a veteran dragonrider and this wasn't the first time she'd been left without any clothes. And ... probably wouldn't be the last. "I don't suppose you'd be at all like other fellows and take a kiss as a bribe would you?" she asked, playfully. The only reason she even said it was cause she knew he'd not want that at all, the farthest from. Because ... she didn't want to smooch on him either. Blek.

[Requiem]

F'ur snorted mildly. "Volunteer to spend my money on a wench? Don't be starting any such rumors, now. I'll never live them down. And I've been working so hard on my gay reputation, too." Sliding alongside the bed, then, he moved by her without quite touching. Yes, there was a teasing, even a seductive element, to it, but clearly it was a jest; F'ur didn't do anything overtly suggestive that he wanted Dorava's attentions after all. The man stepped coquettishly forward a couple spaces with a cock of the hip, whirling with a flourish and tossing an imaginary head of hair back over his shoulder like some highborn - or perhaps just slutty - lass. His voice stepped up into a falsetto to complete the effect. "But dear you really do have to work on that wardrobe of yours." He tutted.

A bark of laughter at the word 'quail.' Such a quaint word, that one. So they were playing at ladyholders and mincing little daughters of well-to-do merchants, were they? He could do that, he thought, if that was the act she was in favor of putting on. And the man's role, too. Little known fact: F'ur was weyrbred but not always weyrbound; he'd spent enough turns outside Fort Weyr to know the little delicacies. Not that he did much with the knowledge but mock them. "It would be scandalous for a gentleman to steal a lady's kiss," he stated, with great gravity as he fell to one knee. "You would give me your favor, though, I hope, to give me courage when I can't look upon the strengthening warmth of your smile to shore me up?"

He caught up her wrist, brushing lips over knuckles. "The only kiss I require," he commented, then, with a wicked grin, he caught hold of the fur and yanked it away from her, swirling it about his shoulders. "This will do for the favor, I think." Standing, he spun on a heel and double-timed it in quickstep out the door, his 'cloak' draped ever so heroically over his shoulders. It occurred to him to leave her there, and see how long she'd linger before she realized he wasn't coming back, but in the end she'd earned some small points by not continuing to twitch at him like a frightened herdbeast, and so he returned again in short order with a rather shapeless frock that he assumed was another one of her nightshirts. It certainly wasn't flattering enough to be daily wear, not that Dorava was like to know the difference.

[dragon]

Dorava's brows went up as F'ur did his act, somewhat surprised and amused that he would even do such a thing. It was just ... weird ... especially on him. At least, to her assessment. But she held her silence as he went through his routine, smirking slightly. "Is that a volunteer to help me work on it, F'ur?" She asked, jabbing back at him. Personally she didn't see anything wrong with her wardrobe ... unless what he was talking about was the fur she was wearing. In that case ... yeah ... she would agree. She needed real clothes is what she needed. Not bedclothes. Beds were supposed to wear bedclothes, not people!

He sure knew how to swing from act to act pretty quickly though, and it left her off balance when he went to the next one. Dorava just blinked, not sure how to answer to that ... or getting her hand kissed. That had never happened before. Never. She didn't get a lot of time to try and figure it out either, before he suddenly stripped her of her fur and went sauntering off with it like the looneybird he was. Dorava squeaked at the sudden draft of cooler air - and being unbalance by the yank. She flopped across the bed for lack of ability to regain her balance on the soft surface, though she did try. "Oof." She grunted, rolling over onto her stomach to watch him leave.

The twerp.

Dorava was not under any illusions that he'd be back ... and he'd gone and taken the fur with him!! Oh well, at least his fur was still laying there. His as in the one he'd been using earlier. She grabbed for it and dragged it across toward herself, and wrapped up in that one instead, climbing to her feet again. This time off of the soft surface that was the bed. Much to her surprise, she turned around to find he was back again ... and with something for her to wear. Again, she was left without any coherent answer.

Just who, exactly, was F'ur anyway? Every time she thought she had a handle on what he was likely to do, he went and did something off the wall. "Oh. Thank you." she said, with genuine gratitude. Taking the shift back to the bed, she threw her newly claimed fur back onto it to first shake out and then don the shift in its place. There ... now she'd only get a few odd stares as she headed for home to change for the day's work. Instead of from everyone she encountered along the way. She cast a look over at Aonith, and decided that the green was not liable to stir any time soon. Turning back toward the doorway, Dorava looked over at F'ur. "At drills, then, I guess."