I Quit! (tags: Kalierre)

[glamourie]

The door to the office slammed open in a whirl of wind that could only have been described as a frenzy. Through it came a tall, dark-haired storm clad entirely in black and looking, for all the world, like he wanted nothing more than to wring the life out of someone. R’wign was not normally a violent creature, but the look on his face could only be described as just that. From the tension in his shoulders to the vivid narrowing of his eye (the left one being gone and thus covered with an eye patch), it was very obvious that R’wign was Not Happy. (Capital letters to indicate just how displeased the healer actually was). Were it anyone but R’wign, the expression might have signaled ‘Run! Run now!’ but -- R’wign was someone that was nearly impossible to take seriously, and very hard to actually be afraid of, for most individuals. He was mostly harmless, aside from being entirely too playful and hard to tease most of the time (such was the blessing of being shameless). So it was that whatever had him so upset must have been a matter of dire importance. That, or he’d finally just tipped over and fizzled into a rage - which was entirely possible, given R’wign’s habit of bottling.

The office he’d gone to belonged, technically, to him and Kalierre. However, one quick movement tore his knots right off of his shirt and he flung them onto the desk before smacking his palms down onto the hard wooden top.

“I quit,” he said, and his tone was actually agitated enough that he may well have meant it. His colorful fair fluttered behind him - Ellie, Grouch and Accident, his constant companion - before coming to land on the shelves around the desk… Ellie exempted; she flew over and landed on R’wign’s shoulder before nuzzling him shamelessly; wouldn’t he calm down, please? Tuning out his gold, R’wign leaned forward and indicated his eye patch. “Today I have been stabbed - twice, I might add - thrown up on, cried on, snotted on, had my empty socket poked because ‘Oh, that’s interesting!’, had a bed pan flung at my head solely for looking into a room, tripped over a waste bin that someone left in the middle of the pathway and when I find that apprentice they’ll be picking up their teeth and to top it all off, the kitchens are running late with lunch. I quit. I QUIT!”

‘Stabbed’ was a bit of an exaggeration, on one count. He really did get stabbed in the left hand, as evidenced by the bandages woven around it, but the second time he was simply jabbed with needle thorn and oh did it hurt. Didn’t bleed much though. The eye socket was really the kicker though… that and R’wign was running on not enough sleep; the brown rider would sleep two-three hours every night, if that, and the rest he’d toss and turn uncomfortably. He’d have been a pitiful sight if not for the fact that he was usually too proud to admit anything was wrong. And then periodically, R’wign would have an outburst that made everyone around him raise their eyebrows. Being at the infirmary from dawn meant he’d already served more than just his shift, but R’wign usually… lingered. It was lunch time, though, and after just over six candle marks, it wasn’t surprising that his bad day was getting to him.

He kicked the desk and rubbed his nose before flopping into one of the chairs, decidedly displeased. “We are cursed with a plethora of incompetence coupled with idiocy and a healthy splash of true ignorance. What bumbling buffoon leaves a sharding waste bin in the middle of the walk way? Why do patients throw bedpans at people who aren’t actually causing them discomfort? WHY DID I GET JABBED IN THE ARM WITH NEEDLETHORN?! Are all our healers idiotic? Why do they only send us morons? Who did you anger? I need to know who to poison and shard it all I have a headache!”

[Requiem]

The woman had been quite content to sit in her stacks of paperwork (the office was entirely too clean before she returned from her hiatus) and organize it in her usual fashion. Which was to say no one but her would be able to find much of anything they were looking for, because Kalierre's version of 'organized' was neat stacks of seemingly unrelated things forming a labyrinth of hides and papyrus through the office. It all came together just perfectly in her mind, it did. Her cane leaning against the edge of her desk, she had just finished this last stack when he burst into the room, the wind from the door causing several sheets to drift around in a snow of falling paper.

The dragonhealer glanced up and sighed heavily. Now she'd have to pick all those up and find where she'd had them, and that might take a few minutes. Plus it meant bending. A lot. Not her favorite pasttime. Grabbing hold of the edge of the desk, she listened to R'wign's rant with half her attention, gathering up her cane and gingerly navigating the man-made pathways to recover all the missing documents. Kalierre was just setting the last one back into place (with a decided ache gathering in her hips above and beyond the usual pain) when he finally ran out of steam.

"You're sitting on a discussion of ichor and possible new findings as to its medicinal properties. They're thinking we can harness some of that hardiness that keeps dragons from getting sick and use it to help with humans," Kalierre commented conversationally. She came to rest against the front of her desk, setting the cane between her legs and letting it take some of her weight as her head fell on her hands. Fingers tapped a light tattoo along the grains of the cane. "Quitting, eh? I'll thank you to keep your voice down, then, since we have patients trying to rest."

Kalierre regarded him for a good long while, a small half-smile slipping through. "Well, there's always Asharra, I suppose. No one will listen to her, but then, no one listens to us either, so I doubt it would make much of a difference." Her eyes flicked toward the door leading out into the main part of the infirmary. "No, I don't imagine it would really effect many people, if you left. We're getting more healers now. Idiots, yes, but at least they have a pair of hands. We wouldn't have a decent herbalist on staff, but that's what scrolls are for. At least some of the people here can be trusted to follow a recipe. Hopefully."

She straightened to relieve the ache in her hip. "I guess the only people who it would really affect are you and me. I'd have to deal with another idiot on top of all the rest, lose what little support I have here, and you'd be stuck with yourself and nothing to do for hour upon hour. But if that's what you want..." She shrugged mildly. Kalierre was no fool. The infirmary was finally at a state of being well-manned; R'wign didn't need to spend the excessive amount of time here that he did. Which meant that something drove him to. Being a somewhat similar creature herself (though thankfully she now had a brownrider to keep her from working herself into an early grave) Kalierre had a pretty good idea of what the impetus was.

"My suggestion, though? Work normal hours, healer, and find some people to occupy the rest of the time. Friends. Whatever. Take up a hobby. Gardening, for all I care. In the end you'll be happier. The infirmary can survive without you, but, from one healer to another...I'm not so sure you can survive without the infirmary." Another shrug. "I haven't finished reading that discussion, by the way, so if you don't mind?" It was getting quite rumpled beneath him at present.

[glamourie]

Well he wouldn’t have been sitting on it if she organized things like a sensible person, instead of demolishing all of his hard work; part of that annoyed him too, even if he had expected it. Prior to Kalierre’s return, he’d had all the paperwork of the infirmary so organized as to blow someone’s mind: alphabetical by subject in a large wooden cabinet with drawers and sideways turned hides to indicate what was in each section and act as separators. It took him hours, but considering how much time he spent in the infirmary, it was really only a day’s task. So flawlessly organized, it was… but as soon as Kalierre came back he’d known that she would move things, solely because she couldn’t find them -- just like he moved everything of hers when he couldn’t. Still, he was on quite a roll when it came to being in a foul mood and he was not about to be bested by her in anything. The disorganization in her office just served to further his agitation, and the dragon healer’s words made R’wign twitch violently in response. A casual viewer might note that he looked ready to scream and throw himself of a weyrledge, and the sentiment was not all that far from the truth.

“It’s the middle of the day. Patients who are trying to sleep are actually unconscious; the dragons are bellowing all about, I’m certain if they don’t wake someone up, I most assuredly can’t,” R’wign replied with a definite edge of agitation in his voice. Yes, he was upset. Yes, he was on the verge of a tantrum. And yes, he knew he was over-reacting. Lack of sleep did that to a person. Yet, knowing something and being able to act appropriately were two different things. Just because he could see that he was having quite the fit in response to something that could be qualified under the header of ‘a normal, if bad day’ did not mean that he was able to actually stop himself from doing it. Nor was he sure he wanted to. He had a habit of clamping down on all of his unpleasant emotions. For so long he’d hidden them away that he didn’t know how to stop the rush of things coming to the surface. The technical term for his behavior was ‘misplacing aggression’ and he was sure most mind healers would have a field day with him. However, he didn’t view mind healing as real healing (perhaps that was arrogant?) and he didn’t care.

What was he supposed to do, really? Sit and tell everyone that he felt like it was his fault that Marra and Religna died? That he felt like a failure? No one wanted to hear that sort of thing. No one wanted to know what was going on behind the smiles of everyone around them. Human beings thrived on the façade that was presented to the public: happy, cheerful, pleasant demeanors for the most part. Some others (like Kali herself) flippantly disregarded society’s need for false cheer, and that was okay -- but R’wign wasn’t someone who could do that. He didn’t function that way. More over, even if he could, he was fairly certain that he was incapable of just voicing his problems. What good would it do? He saw nothing beneficial coming from it. So he repressed, until something totally unrelated sent him into a horrible mood and he ended up having a minor breakdown. Like right at that moment. He was mid-tantrum, yes, but the actual day had nothing to do with it… as Kalierre had doubtlessly figured out.

The dirty look he wore only got worse as he stood up, removed the hides from under him, and then threw them onto the table defiantly. His arms folded and he raised an eyebrow, clearly meant to challenge.

“I can survive just fine without the infirmary shifts and constant agitation,” he said, and, at least for the moment, he felt like he was right. “I have friends. Plenty of them.” He bristled slightly, and R’wign was very obviously annoyed. Truth was, he didn’t have quite as many: Cezine was gone, so was K’ran, and so was Marra… and Religna. That left, what? Kalierre, M’ta, K’lir and Meira? Of them, Meira and K’lir would be busy as weyrlings. Perhaps Tr’esn, but he was so skittish… Kali was pretty much busy all the time too, and R’wign didn’t really know whether he saw her as a friend or not; maybe that was persnickety of him, but from time to time, he felt like she didn’t view him as a friend, so… That really just left M’ta. And he couldn’t follow M’ta around being annoying all the time. If he quit the infirmary, what would he do? “I think I could survive just fine. I’ll just sleep all the time, instead of working all the time and getting stabbed. And I really don’t like it when people poke me in the eye socket. What in Faranth’s name possesses the brats to think that is okay? Is our creche staff really that incompetent that they don’t know manners?!”

[Requiem]

Kalierre didn't bother to move as R'wign advanced on her in order to throw the hides on the desk. It was almost humorous. In fact, if she hadn't known R'wign she likely would have been laughing at the childish tantrum he was throwing, but she knew this wasn't normal. The young healer was hardly easy to get much of a rise out of normally. Neither of them were. It was one of the things that made their partnership work. He was a good healer, and they'd miss that if he left, true. More pressing, though, was the simple truth that he was the only one here she really had a personal connection with. Kalierre didn't make those lightly. The thought of losing that one connection didn't sit well with her in the slightest. Still, if he decided to leave, she couldn't (and wouldn't) stop him.

It was no more in her nature to say anything to that effect than it was for him to be as glaringly uncaring of others' sensibilities as she was. Kalierre wasn't one to give affection freely, or acknowledge it once she did.

She tilted her head slightly to one side as she regarded the male towering over her, amusement twitching at her lips despite herself. Really, no one else could pull off a tantrum and make it so ridiculously...cute...as R'wign managed. No, she shouldn't be amused but, really, could anyone blame her? Sleep all the time? Really? R'wign? "I'm sure the friends you have would appreciate the extra time with you," she stated, somehow maintaining a straight face. Of course she hadn't meant that he didn't have any. Then she couldn't help it. "In moderation."

No. No. No. No. Bad idea. Don't go there. But the impulse overtook her all at once, and before she even realized that she was actually considering it, she had already reached up and - yes - poked R'wign in blatant imitation of a fascinated child. "Well, you must admit," she commented, hand still outstretched. "It's not something you see every day." Then she busted out laughing, unable to hold it in anymore, the dragonhealer sagging back against the desk to keep her balance.

"Honestly, R'wign, do you hear yourself?! Complaining about children not having manners and getting stabbed with needles. Oh, I agree, you clearly need a break, but whatever am I going to do about finding something to laugh about if you leave?" She cleared the moisture from her eyes and shot him a smile. The hand returned to her cane, then. Sure, that little gesture of hers might just throw him over the edge completely. Or break his momentum. Either way, she figured it would be best if the tantrum played out or finished sooner rather than later, so she wasn't too worried.

[glamourie]

. . . . . . . . !

R’wign was going to tell Kalierre that he was sure that M’ta would get by just fine without more time with him and that the other brown rider probably was grateful for the reprieve. Everyone else was infirmary staff (except K’lir, who had made it painfully clear he really would prefer to be left alone more oft than not) and thus saw him constantly. He was all ready and rearing, his counter argument formed perfectly in his mind, when Kali leaned over and stopped him cold in his tracks. He blinked and jerked away from her outstretched hand, so that her poking came to impact his nose rather than the eye patch on his face and his expression twisted to a look that was describable only as furious. It actually took his mind a moment to register what Kalierre had done, but when it connected along with her words, he rose from the chair, slow and deliberately; he couldn’t intimidate her, he knew, and he didn’t see a reason to try. Kalierre didn’t scare easily and certainly not by the likes of him (he was only scary when he had plants around him and even then it depended on whether or not someone knew what he could do with most plants). No, it was more to contain his anger as his first response was to scream and storm out. Mocking him when he was upset was not fair.

He settled instead for pushing some of the parchments and hides to the sides of the desk, putting a clear path on it between him and the dragon healer. Then he pushed himself up onto the desk top, resting on his knees. The position was rather like a child sitting on their bed, his weight resting completely on his bent legs. His hands moved down to rest on the table and he met Kali’s gaze squarely, his eyebrows nearly meeting his hairline. He kept his face impassive in an attempt to disguise his responses, and he was good at it, though normally he hid behind a mask of friendliness. Lack of emotion was rare for R’wign. Not entirely unheard of, though.

“I am certain you can find a new clown to entertain you, Kalierre,” R’wign said softly, and then raised himself up as much as he could. Sitting on knees wasn’t an easy position, nor expressly comfortable, but it put him in the perfect position to reach over and yank the dragon healer closer to the desk. Bringing her closer made it easier for him to plot. “Maybe not one as pretty as I am, but then, you don’t particularly like prettiness anyway. Keep your fingers out of my empty eye sockets, I have a sneaking suspicion that I know where they’ve been and I’m not too keen on them anywhere so personal on me, if you’ll catch my drift…”

It was a silly idea, he knew. Kalierre was like an older sister to him, particularly ornery, bossy and prone to fussing over silly things at the weirdest times; he distinctly remembered hearing Kalierre rant at someone for jarring their injuries worse. (He’d also expected her to throw a fit at him for allowing himself to catch pneumonia after the Siege, but fortunately she didn’t.) She wasn’t easily swayed, but her behavior made him feel challenged, as though he had to one-up how ornery she was being (that and he was agitated and had to return the favor somehow). He didn’t really expect a bad reaction. A slap was even unlikely, though he didn’t know what to expect. Just the same, R’wign was not about to be one-upped by a cripple. He might have been half blind, but just the same, there was a reason that people referred to him as shameless…

So he leaned forward, fearlessly, and ran his tongue over Kalierre’s face, starting from her jaw up to just under her eye. The entire movement took only seconds before he dropped back down to be sitting on his legs again, a bemused smirk on his face, as if defiant; maybe it was because he wasn’t sleeping right, but he was pleased with himself regardless. Ellie took one look at him, chirped in upset, and then flew over to join the other fire lizards on the shelves. Too close to the meanone’s; she didn’t feel like listening to the loud salamandyr if he decided to come out and be a grump. R’wign ignored Ellie, one hand coming up to brush a stray curl from his face vainly. “I’m flattered that you’d miss me, Kali. You could have just said that… you know, ‘R’wign, you’re amazing, I love you, please don’t leave me.’ I respond well to ego strokes.”

[Requiem]

She blinked up at R'wign curiously. That was a face wonderfully devoid of life, now wasn't it? Kalierre had always suspected most of R'wign's demeanor was put on, but now she could be certain; that amount of control came with practice. Lots of practice. In fact, he was, at this current time, more adept at it than she. Kalierre had fallen out of practice a couple of turns ago or so when she realized that people in the south didn't need her to play submissive. In fact, it was something of a barrier here.

The dragonhealer made a small squeaking sound that was part surprise and part pain - mostly pain - at him suddenly bringing her closer. It was negligible, of course, given that she always had some sort of pain in that hip. She was just usually more prepared for the stab of sensation. R'wign tended to be forward, yes, even aggressive, but he didn't make a habit of manhandling her, so she hadn't been expecting it. "Perhaps I don't want another clown," she commented peevishly, if only to prevent him from taking complete control of the situation. "Do you know how difficult it is to break them in?"

Squirming slightly to get a better grip on the desk so she wouldn't go into a graceless half-fall the moment he let her go, she shot him a scathing glance at his inference. Really! It wasn't as if she made comments about his twisted relationships, now was it? She'd even been good about not making comments about Marra and R'wign's obvious masochistic bent, so Kalierre definitely thought that the topic was off-limits. If he wanted to open that particular can of worms, though, she was game...

Her eyes widened as he licked her scarred face, the woman jerking back involuntarily. She clutched at the desk for balance and straightened as best she could, a dangerous light entering into her eyes. "Could I now?" she repeated, tone low. Her arm snaked up swiftly, fingers coiling into his collar and dragging him back down toward her with snakelike swiftness. They were practically nose-to-nose now, and she smiled grimly. "Just confess my love for you?"

Bringing her lips by his ear, she nibbled at it lightly. "Yes, pet. It has nothing to do with your being the best healer here. I pine for you. Whatever will I do without you, R'wign, without my bane and my reason for living to stare at in fruitless desire day after day? I shall positively die of heartbreak if you leave me." The hand loosened from his collar and she rubbed the back of her knuckles lightly along his neck before drawing back with a raised brow and a decided smirk.

If he wanted to play that game...

[glamourie]

Oh ho. Had he surprised her? Good. He really hated being predictable. R’wign kept the amused smirk from spreading over his face and rested his palms on the top of the desk. What a sight the two of them must have made. It was a good thing the office had a door and most of the apprentices were not in the habit of walking in without knocking (a discipline he’d instilled upon them by spiking all rude-apprentices with various herbal concoctions varying in intensity depending on the frequency of their inability to respect his privacy). He could just imagine the looks. The two of them already got some very interesting ones, especially when they were on shift with S’lain, which, admittedly, didn’t happen very often. One missing eye, one gimp leg, one with a damaged arm. Selenitas’s healers left something to be desired, when it came to their physical condition, but knowledge they had. They were all skilled enough… particularly when it came to making everyone else in the infirmary feel awkward. Though, he possibly took more pleasure from that than most of the other healers; R’wign thought it was good fun. And he could just picture the responses half of the staff would have to knowing that he’d licked Kalierre. Savitri in particular made for an amusing mental image, but the gold rider was often the victim of his biting sense of humor. Easy target.

His gaze followed Kali as she jerked away and he quirked an eyebrow; he didn’t respond to the clown statement, because all he could think was that not everyone happened to like being ‘broken in.’ He was just special that way. She probably hadn’t even intended the statement in the way that his mind twisted it (though one could never tell with Kali). He blamed sleep deprivation; he was more loony than normal due to not sleeping right and the end result was him comically making comments that he’d normally have held back. Although, it was garnering some of the most amusing reactions that R’wign had ever seen from Kali, and he was silently pleased at the result. He needed to tease her more often. It was funny being on the winning side.

Although, that entertainment was not meant to last. The look on her face was decidedly challenging and R’wign resisted the urge to back up and snipe again; he really was in a bad mood. Her hands latched onto his collar and he relaxed to avoid being too rough to pull - it was an instinctive response more than anything else. So close, it was ridiculously easy to make out each scar with absolute clarity. But who was he to talk about scars anymore? Really? He was covered in them himself, head-to-toe. The thought was pushed from his mind as she spoke and he allowed a playful half-smile to brush over his face. Genuine, it was, though he was tempted to laugh. No, R’wign wasn’t quite that conceited; he did not believe for one second Kalierre was interested in him as anything more than someone to talk to. Even if he did like to accuse her of more--

Cheating. Cheat cheat cheat. He wanted to win and she just wouldn’t let him, the witch. (It didn’t help that he did like the attention…) His normal response to such behavior - and words! - would have been to blurt out something ridiculous like “Well, I’m sorry but you just can’t have me!” and then strut out comically and go back to business. Why? Because R’wign was just that flamboyant most of the time. Most. But - part of it was agitation, a lot of it was ego, and more still was the fact that he was curious - R’wign didn’t let his normal reaction take over. He did an abrupt mental about-face and drew his hands up rest one of them against Kalierre’s chin, his eyebrow angling up slightly. Playful, yes, but also suggestive; maybe he was being ridiculous, but he didn’t want to be the first one to give up. Ego and all that. His other hand snaked down to her wrist and pulled it up toward his mouth.

“Who said I was leaving you?” he said softly, brushing his lips over the tips of her fingers, feather-soft. “Oh, Kalierre -- all those times you made fun of me, mocked me, and barked orders -- you were trying to seduce me, you did notice I liked being bossed around. Here I was thinking you were being oblivious…” His hand on her wrist dropped as he scooted to the very end of the desk, leaning up so that they were practically nose-to-nose… again. “All just a ruse to throw me off your trail, was it…? A very good one I might add.” Yeah yeah. He knew better, he did. “And this talk of breaking in…” Tilting his head, he brushed his lips against hers, the lightest of touches. “You really should have been honest from the get-go… never know what might have come of it…”

[Requiem]

This was, of course, his cue to acknowledge that she had most definitely won the contest of wills and back down. It would be ever so much better if he also stated his clear folly in attempting to leave her here, more or less alone for all the support the other Selenitas healers offered her, in this southern madhouse. Yes, in a wholly perfect world that was exactly as things would have proceeded and, truly, with almost anyone else...But if R'wign was anyone else he'd already be well on his way to needing the constant care of a mindhealer or away from the infirmary entirely.

Since R'wign was not anyone else, though, she should not have been surprised, even if she always had gotten the impression that he treated her as senior. For the longest time he'd even been fairly nervous around her. It was, of course, possible that her recent change in status to cripple might produce this sort of hubris, but Kalierre was fairly sure her grotesque image was more likely to produce more fear as opposed to achieving the opposite. And, much as their relationship had only gradually changed over the turns, she'd seen him enough with other people to know he tended to like pushing the line.

Too bad R'wign had no idea where her line was. There were few people more competitive than Kalierre, even amongst the most overbearing of the north's dragonriders. Was it terrible that she actually was experiencing a thrill of excitement at the prospect of this contest of wills?

Standing utterly still as he kissed her fingers, she allowed herself to drift ever-so-slightly closer. Kalierre was tempted to turn on the aggression, but refrained, opting instead for a fair impression of someone completely shocked by the healer's behavior. Of course, it would be obvious enough to him, but then, they both knew what they were about so what really did that matter? It was all part of the game. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed back slightly.

"Don't you understand, R'wign? You're a boy. A gifted, unbearably attractive boy, yes, but I could hardly make my feelings known, and here you drag them from me! It simply cannot be." Shaking her head vehemently, she didn't move to separate herself from him, just the same. "If they knew..." A dramatic sigh. "So we must deny our feelings, and-" Her hand ran up his chest, and she stared at it as she did so. The woman was only too well-practiced at this sort of act, even if it was a little rusty after a few turns. "-continue as if none of this ever existed."

[glamourie]

Oh, how cute -- pretending to be all submissive, docile and shy. R’wign knew better though - just as Kalierre probably knew better than to buy anything he was saying as truth. She knew him very well, after all. Still, it was almost appealing; despite dating Marra, arguably the less submissive female on Pern, he liked that trait in females -- hence his fondness for the Senior Weyrwoman. Kali probably had no idea about that. Probably. Most people weren’t aware of his little crush, due to how much he flirted with just about everyone (male or female). But he did like Kaegan and -- well, he knew very well that Kalierre was nothing like her, even if she was acting nice and meek. It was incredibly awkward, almost enough for him to give up entirely; somehow he strongly suspected that Kali was not going to let him win this little go round just to placate his ego. She was such a snot sometimes. But -- just because he realized that didn’t mean he intended to do anything about it. Pride. Ego. Whatever the term for it -- R’wign wanted to win, and that meant not backing off, even if he knew that Kali wasn’t going to make that easy for him. On the contrary, the prospect of it being a real challenge to make her squirm away from his touch was highly appealing. She wouldn’t be creeped out by the normal methods… Truthfully, he’d thought for certain she’d be repulsed by the idea of touching him at all. Meant he needed to be creative. Creative he could do, though.

“A boy? Hardly. It’s been quite awhile since that term fit me.”

Half of that was honest, actually. R’wign termed ‘boy’ to people who were naïve and innocent - two words that hadn’t applied to him in a very long time. Not since before he came to Selenitas. However, the suggestive lilt of his voice was indicative that he meant something else by those words - something a lot less innocent. His eye narrowed slightly, the same playful smile on his face as he filled in the gap between the two of them so that there was little left for distance. His face moved to the side of hers, arms winding around her, but gently. Just because he was being… daring, didn’t mean that he’d forgotten about her injuries entirely, and R’wign didn’t want to hurt Kalierre. Namely because she’d hurt him back and that would be bad, but that was irrelevant. He let his hands clasp under her arms, behind her back, and settled for brushing his lips over her ear in a remarkable imitation of her earlier movements, except that there was no nibbling, no licking - just gentle brushing of flesh on flesh, light enough to almost be ignored… or described as ticklish.

In the process of moving forward, he leaned in to her touch, and brushed his nose against her ear before angling his head downward. The movement put his lips directly against her neck, with only a breath’s space between them. He was a touch annoyed to admit that he did like the attention; the last person to touch him like that out of flight lust was dead, after all. Even if it was in jest this time around… just reminded him of how much he actually did miss Marra, and not just in the someone-to-talk-to way. Pity. But Kali wasn’t on the menu. Not really. He had limits of what he was willing to do… or so he thought…?

“Is that really what you want?” he asked against her neck, brushing his nose against her skin gently. The position put her entirely in his blind spot (which was pretty much everything on his left side), but he didn’t worry much. There were enough fire lizards scattered over the shelves that if for some reason Kali went insane and decided to spontaneously stab him, he’d know in advance; the colorful entourage that went with him anywhere would alert him by screeching and screaming. Not that he could do anything either way. He trusted her enough to believe that Kali wouldn’t hurt him. There were very few people he put that level of trust in, but she was one of them. “I don’t think it is… I think you’d be very upset if I were to push away from you now, leave… that’s why you don’t want me to go; you’d miss me if I stopped coming in the infirmary regularly, wouldn’t you…?” Actually, he rather thought she would, though not for the reasons stated. R’wign was not going to admit that though. The game was… almost fun; he was curious to see how far Kali was willing to go before remembering that she had a weyrmate. Not like anyone was waiting at home for him.

[Requiem]

A brow rose in open amusement. Really now? You think you're a man, do you? At any other time she might have spoken the words aloud, laughed in his face, and sent him off with a swat that was more playful than punishment. R'wign was and had always been a child in her eyes. The laughter wouldn't have been intentionally cruel, but that statement was utterly incredible.

But her mood was somewhat shaded today, metamorphosed into something that, rather than dismissing his claim out-of-hand, tempted her with the idea of testing that assertion. What a generous mood she was in, no? To even think of allowing him to prove himself. Only the fact that she knew this was only the result of a certain green dragon preparing for Flight - and possibly her own insecurities of late, though she was loathe to admit that last - kept her from acting on the unusual impulse. Kalierre most certainly had restraint.

It might have been odd, however, to note that her reasons for not considering R'wign in that matter had nothing whatsoever to do with loyalty to her weyrmate. She simply didn't need the awkwardness if R'wign stayed...and no, he wasn't the sort she usually bore an attraction to. Too young, too...falsely cheerful. A good friend, perhaps, but not someone she'd take to her furs for any reason other than something pragmatic. An act she hadn't had to do since coming south, and distasteful for that reason in itself.

So, while she didn't openly challenge him, she didn't cut off the game as she otherwise would have. The challenge was invigorating. And...there was something unsatisfied within her that thrilled at finding herself playing the 'prey.' Kalierre was never one to enjoy being put on a pedestal as if she was made of glass, and K'von, Faranth smile on him, treated her with kid gloves as if she might break at the slightest touch. It put her in mind all too clearly of all that she'd lost, and that angered her on a deeply buried level. She wouldn't act on the hunger R'wign was awakening, of course. Far too inconvenient.

Besides, he wasn't attracted to her. She was frankly doubtful as to how K'von could still want her, and, in the dark quietness of thought, believed his continued devotion to be motivated by pity. It chafed. R'wign was merely playing a game, a game to be enjoyed...but not taken too far.

How she was loving it, though.

Tilting her head and exposing more of her neck, she pulled back from him a little, though not with enough force to escape his awkward embrace. The tremble was not entirely put on. She was, after all, a warm-blooded female, and necessarily sensitive to touch. "You're a knavish beast," she murmured, placing both hands against his chest in a warding gesture. "And what if I would miss you? That changes nothing." One hand rose in the pause, into his hair, massaging lightly at his scalp. Almost absently.

"A rogue, to be preying on a woman's weakness. Come. Release me, and go, if that's what you want so badly. I can manage without you. It's hard now, but after awhile it will be easier, without having within my reach something I can never touch." Thus said, she lowered her head to make him fight for access to her neck.

[glamourie]

Knavish? Really? The word almost made him laugh - almost. Oh, he knew very well that it was an exaggeration, an act, though the phrasing made him wonder what sort of way Kali did talk to that pet brown rider of hers (who in R’wign’s mind did not really have a name -- he just referred to the man as ‘Kalierre’s pet’ in his head). Not that he’d ever ask. Despite his playfulness for the moment (and ‘playful’ was really all it was, or so he kept insistently telling himself - the idea of secretly harboring some weird attraction to Kali was ludicrous), he really did not want to know. What he did want to know was how far Kali was going to take the game. Part of him suspected that she was just being particularly stubborn and refusing to let him win on principle, a fact which would not have come as much surprise to him: Kali seemed to like doing just that. There was a reason that most bronze riders seemed to have a problem with her (and sometimes he couldn’t fault them). Well, he wasn’t going to let her win. He just wasn’t. R’wign was sick of backing down and letting other people win on anything (although the slight touches were encouraging enough, even if he wasn’t going to admit that out loud to anyone). Harumph.

Carefully, R’wign reorganized himself on the desk top, pulling away for the time it took to swing his legs over the edge. His feet hit the ground with a light clack, and he immediately circled around, so that Kali was pinned between him and the desk. His arms wrapped around her waist. She could get away if she really wanted (without hurting him, at that) but he was making it difficult… quite intentionally. Yes, he wanted to see how far Kali was willing to let him push it - but he also wanted to touch her. The last time he’d touched anyone outside of flight or runlust was Marra - almost a turn ago. It would’ve been easier to adjust if not for the fact that his mindmates seemed determined to torture him. He had faith in Kalierre, which made it easier to forget the normal ‘limitations’ that he’d set for himself -- he didn’t believe she’d suddenly behave oddly around him any more than he would have around her. She was practically male in personality anyway, though so close to her he could not deny that she definitely wasn’t physically. His mind was all over the place, he knew, but -- hnn…

“So dramatic,” he teased, leaning forward to brush her jaw with his lips. One of his hands came up to hers, pressing her fingers more firmly against his chest; the instruction/request was obvious without words. “I’ve never known you to be one to run from temptation. Is this something new that I’m as of yet unaware of?” He mentally prodded his fire lizards to shoo (an audience was not welcome) and dropped his hands back to her waist. “If I were to leave now…” He kissed her jaw, mid-words, and then glanced up curiously, “… are you honestly saying you wouldn’t chase me down?” Whether he meant leave her office, or the infirmary, was unclear; he really did intend to stop coming to the infirmary for awhile, he was so sick of it… although Kali was definitely presenting an adequate distraction from those thoughts. Devious witch. He couldn’t even be properly mad at her - though technically he’d started it, so it was his own fault.

His lips moved over her jaw, ghosting over before he actually caught her in a kiss. Half of him expected to be slapped for it. No, not expected - wanted. He wanted her to shove him away and tell him to get back to work. That would be a sign that he won, wouldn’t it…?

[Requiem]

It was...odd.

Kalierre had taken to watching R'wign with all the fierceness of a hawk, her brow knitting. Was she upset? Angry? It might have seemed that way, but truly she was just...confused. Not by his behavior, nor even her own, but because it was R'wign who pressed close, penning her in, and she didn't mind. She didn't mind. The wrinkles faded from between her eyes. Had she been whole, she might have half-climbed up on the desk to better continue the charade they were playing at, but it would have been amazingly awkward in her present state so she simply shrunk back.

The hand he clutched to him curled in his shirt, remaining there in a gesture that was hard to determine, and deliberately so. Kalierre didn't intend to lose. If R'wign thought he could scare her by pressing close - the boy who'd been afraid of dragons that she'd met several turns past - he was deluding himself. He wasn't fool enough to press if she showed any indication of not wanting this to continue. And even if he was, she could take care of herself. All bluff, there was nothing for her to do but to call it. Why, after all, would she spook over something like this? He had to realize there was no way he'd win.

"That's brilliant," she muttered, her body twitching slightly as if in an effort to dislodge the hand still lingering at her waist. "If you can't coax her with pretty words, call her a slut instead?" Her eyes flashed with annoyance, and this particular expression was one worn often enough that she hardly had a whit of trouble drawing it out. Or was she actually irked? Hard to tell.

The kiss on her jaw actually did catch her off-guard, despite the fact he'd been nuzzling at her and kissing her all along. Kalierre froze against him. Wait a second now...where was this going? She gasped and pressed further back against the desk when he continued to speak, her glare holding little malice and much irritation. "Stop you? I've half a mind to-" To what? Kick him out the door? She hesitated.

Typical male that he was, he pressed that advantage. Kalierre's fingers tightened around the bunch of clothing. She reached up with her other arm to push him away, but found her hand twining in his hair instead, at the back of his head. Because he'd win, and that wasn't going to happen. Although, for the life of her...she really couldn't seem to remember why she had to pursue this in order to win. The goal itself seemed to have fled her mind.

Kiss him, it seemed. Only it wasn't just half a mind. Kalierre didn't move closer, but then, she didn't need to - there wasn't a bit of space between them anyway. Her lips parted for him of their own accord, and she realized then why things had seemed so off. R'wign was not...this. Her healer, he was, a lad she'd trained and who had - who always had - surpassed her in a number of ways. She respected him, liked him such as she liked anyone, but the thought of standing here like this (even in jest) had never so much as scratched the surface of her mind. Now here they were.

But she wasn't thinking about that child. The kiss, the words, the touches...did she really want more? Could that be true? Her mind said no. But she didn't pull away. And Kalierre was too honest with herself to claim it was all a misplaced competitive streak. They broke. She eyed him for a moment. "Do you have any idea what you're getting into?" There was challenge in her smirk. A final warning, such as it was, if he understood it. Because if someone was going to back down, it wasn't going to be her.

She wasn't going to lose.

[glamourie]

“Putting words into my mouth,” R’wign replied simply, and without apology; if she wanted to assume his meaning, that was her right, and trying to explain to Kali that he meant otherwise would have been a symbol of weakness. He wasn’t weak, and he was not about to lose to her. Nor was he about to show weakness of any kind. So he settled for a look that he knew was deliberately unreadable, and did not back away; logically, she could slap him or something, but… he didn’t really think that she would. Yes, R’wign’s ego knew no bounds. Especially not when he was getting his way (sort of). He moved to brush his lips over her jaw again, thus missing the would-be scalding look; it wasn’t as though her expression was of much importance at the moment anyway, since he knew very well that Kali could fake irritability as much as he could (or more – he was much better at pretending to be pleasant, after all). If she were able to see (though the angle prevented it), she might have noticed that he was definitely smirking. Her cut off sentence elicited a great deal of amusement from him. Yes, his ego truly did have no boundaries. At least he was smart enough not to ask what she intended to do. That was a sign of intelligence.

That she kissed him back was pretty much all the encouragement he needed, and R’wign made no effort to pull away. In fact, the almost-warning brought a wry smile to his face and he couldn’t help but cock his head to the side in a decidedly playful, if a touch mocking, gesture. Trying to scare him off, was she? She’d have to try better. Whether she remembered or not – he was involved with Marra and Kali at her worst couldn’t compare to that, long-term. And he didn’t believe that Kalierre would turn weird on him. Worst she’d do was tease him later on – she had a weyrmate, technically (and it wasn’t his job to worry about that relationship, so he wasn’t doing so), and she was the only person he considered a superior in the infirmary. He just did not believe there would be any lasting oddness between them. Certainly there wouldn’t be any from his side.

“Let’s see if I do, shall we?” he said softly, hands moving to press on the desk at either side of Kali’s hips – pretty much as acting as a ‘cage.’ “Standing between me and a desk is Kalierre, who I’ve known for Turns, the only person in the infirmary that I can say bests my knowledge in any place of any importance” – Asharra didn’t count – “and so far, she hasn’t said no. Of all the people in the Weyr, she’s the most likely person to never act bizarrely around me for this… contest. Certainly not liable to treat me all that different. Not to mention, said woman is also one of the few people I can honestly say I trust… and you have my absolute full attention. Do I know what I’m getting into? I think I do…” He leaned over to whisper, almost as if someone could overhear them. Technically, they could – there were only walls and a door in the way; someone outside the door could hear everything. “Not sure I care, though.”

Then at once, he stepped back, giving Kali room enough to move if she so wanted. His head cocked to the side and he let his eye roam over her once, very slowly in obvious appreciation, before meeting her gaze evenly.

“Tell me to leave and I will,” he said, and he meant it; if she told him to leave, he’d actually go. But, being as arrogant as he was, he didn’t really expect Kali to tell him to leave. R’wign actually thought Kalierre was as interested as he was. Not because he thought he was amazing (he wasn’t) but because it was so… almost outlandish, the idea of the two of them. The idea definitely appealed as much to his quirky sense of humor as it did his body. “Otherwise,” he added, his voice very soft, “I’m going to bend you over that desk and find out if it’s as sturdy as it looks…”

[Requiem]

Kalierre stood, pinned back against her desk - hers! - with the brownrider that had somehow become something other than the child she'd first met (back when she was still influenced by Benden and playing 'nice' with everyone) somewhere down the line. She'd watched him go from sullen, arrogant, terrified little teenager into an equally arrogant but decidedly more subtle man, and the change had been so gradual she'd hardly noticed. Just a couple of turns ago she would have laughed him off, amused and slightly flattered by the attempt. But he had her enthralled, he did, frozen as a rat before a snake, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Kalierre had a thing about control, she did, and there was something dangerous about being out of control. Something...frightening and compelling all at once. The contradiction of her nature.

And was she afraid? A touch. The apprehension was in her gaze, and it wasn't entirely put on, because the woman was far too experienced not to know that this has moved on from jest into something...other. Neither had originally intended it, but neither were willing to have their bluff called and...here they were.

What was worse, she got the distinct impression that R'wign was entirely serious when he spoke this last time. Though why he thought he could trust her she wasn't sure. Certainly the expression in his eye as he looked her over caused the woman to shiver slightly. She hadn't moved from where she stood against the desk, but she hadn't decided.

It was irritating, really. Kalierre knew she'd lost. Somehow, somewhere, she'd lost. Either she told him no, thereby acknowledging the game as a game and losing it that way, or she didn't. But because there was a part of her that was excited by him, that wanted to be manipulated and outclassed and dominated, she lost in that way too. He'd checkmated her with that question. Saying yes admitted she wanted him and what he offered, and saying no admitted that this game was just a game. Yes, the dragonhealer was irritated. She didn't like to lose.

Leaning back against the desk, she regarded him through half-lidded eyes, her gaze wandering for a moment as she wavered. Well, if she was going to lose, she might as well get something out of it...he'd stirred her up, and K'von, though she cared for him, treated her far too carefully for her tastes; he wouldn't be able to satisfy this hunger that R'wign had awakened which, in essence, would make that a double loss on Kalierre's part. Time to cut her losses and scheme after another way to win somewhere down the line.

Because if R'wign thought that this was over, he was greatly mistaken.

"I think you're a fool," she commented laughingly, almost affectionately. Almost. The dragonhealer closed the distance with only a wince to show for it, pulling him down for a kiss as she pressed against him, inviting him into her mouth. Her hand descended to his waist with just a touch of playfulness. Maybe he'd spook at the last and run, though she wasn't sure which of the two options she wanted at this point. "Does that answer your question?"