Trading One for Another (Rys and Ciss)

[kysseh]

Savitri was surprised to find herself coming to consciousness in her own bed, a bit disoriented and her brain functioning at a significantly slower speed than she was used to. It was night, she noticed quickly, the sun having just gone down. Strange. She remembered afternoon.... and the coast, with Cath, to avoid the weyr during Aslath's Flight, and-

Her body--nude, she now realized, beneath the very light covering of her furs--stiffened at this realization, and she unconsciously curled into a tighter ball, her usual sleeping position. The difference now, though, was what awakened her, for it felt like she had a hot stove pressed against her back. Something very warm and very solid was curled around her, and she distinctly felt a band of warmth around her waist. Her sleep-clouded mind was immediately in a panic as she tried to put the pieces together, working through her day to figure out how she had gotten from waking up in the morning to... sharing her bed.

Chores... Infirmary.... bathing and oiling Cath... the coast, because Aslath was Rising. Yes, she remembered the coast, playing with Cath in the waves and then drying off in the sun. They had headed back right after Cath was aware that Aslath had been caught. She remembered feeling so... so warm, the feeling stronger now that she was back in the weyr and in such close proximity to so many available males. She had removed Cath's straps and hung them up, set aside her pack, intending to go take a bath and get rid of the salt from the ocean, but.... she had been distracted. She remembered turning, bumping into someone warm, responding to the touch of capable and confident hands.

She curled up tighter, unable to resist a light flush at the realization of how easily she had acquiesced beneath Ka'rys' touch, and Ka'rys, she knew it was. Even in a Flightlust-induced state of desire, she doubted she would have given in had it been anyone else. It didn't take any motion for her to realize that there was some discomfort--the virginity issue was no longer a problem--but it was negligible, at worst. Her primary concern was her mindmate. It worried Savitri momentarily that Hepaticath would have reacted badly, but the amused--even smug, for some odd reason--contentment that the gold was radiating put the young woman at ease.

Ciceroth's Flew you, Mine. You were very happy. Why are you nervous now? Hepaticath inquired mildly, quite comfortable on the double couch... all by herself. The gold tilted her head lightly to eye her rider and the now-demoted bronzerider where they rested in Savitri's bed, and then she returned her patient gaze to her ledge. Ciceroth would come to his senses and come join her on her couch soon, she knew. He was too smart to stay away, especially not when Hers had possession of His.

Savitri was not relaxed by Hepaticath's words, mostly because... the concept of sharing a bed was an unfamiliar one to her. Unsure how to respond and afraid to move for fear of waking him, the young woman remained still, minus the squirming of her toes. They were cold, and she twitched them until she found his warm, bare calves and burrowed her toes back between them for the warmth. Ahh, yes. Much, much better. Her toes, at least, were comfortable, even if the rest of her body felt tense and stiff, her face and neck lightly flushed with embarrassment. How to proceed with this?

[glamourie]

"Nomovemyqueen," Ka'rys muttered under his breath as the warm form beneath his touch shifted. His hand around her waist tightened slightly in what was an undeniably possessive grasp. "My gold." Whether it was lingering remnants from Ciceroth or something else entirely was unclear, but Ka'rys made no effort to release the decidedly soft form beneath him. In his sleep, he was only aware of just how comfortable he was, and that he didn't want that comfort disturbed for anything. Yet, the more she moved, the more he started to wake up, and then --

Mmf, cold! Ka'rys recoiled immediately at the chilly touch of something against his calves. He squirmed backwards instinctively and rolled himself into a ball, unintentionally right against Savitri's side. He was still mostly asleep, as was evidenced by his squirming motions that bore a remarkable resemblance to a tunnel snake attempting to burrow downward. Unfortunately, none of the blankets formed around him the way that his furs did, and Ka'rys noticed. His hand slipped off of Savitri's side as he curled up tighter and squirmed, to no avail. What was wrong with his furs that they weren't covering him the way he was supposed to? Too soft to be the couch or on the floor next to Ciceroth, he was in a bed but -- it wasn't his bed. His bed would've responded to his squirming, that was why he had the piles of fur organized that way, for exactly that purpose. So where exactly was he? A sense of cold alarm filled him, and he did not dare open his eyes.

What happened, what happened? He remembered flying, fast, hard and quick. He remembered catching Kindrith, trying to break his fall some, and how much it hurt his wings because of how fast the blue was plummeting? Wait, his wings? -- No, Ciceroth's. Had he pulled a muscle? He'd have to check. Kindrith fell into the water, did he survive? He hadn't stayed to watch but he looked okay, he didn't between but he was probably bruised at the minimum. He'd flown his hardest to catch up and he had managed to, and then Aslath, infuriatingly, picked that little bronze Corinth over him - how irritated and disappointed he'd been that she would pick a bronze who felt threatened by a blue. He'd snarled, but as feelings went back to him, so too did normal sensations. His first thought was of Savitri, and how badly she'd reacted when Millieth Rose. The worry was doubled by Ciceroth's concern for Hepaticath, for Savitri's sickly state had an adverse effect on her dragon as well. He'd left, and somehow ended up in her weyr. How surprised he'd been to find Hepaticath there already and her - her -- not the gold who Rose, but the one he'd been Chasing in his own way for months.

The sense of alarm that he felt heightened with the realization that the bed he was in was almost certainly Savitri's. His stomach plummeted and he tensed visibly. She hadn't pushed him away, hadn't really resisted or fought. What was he thinking? She was a weyrlingrider, Hepaticath was young, stupid, stupid, stupid --

Hepaticath is fine.

Ciceroth's words were only slightly soothing. It wasn't just Hepaticath he was worried over, after all, though the bronze did not seem remotely concerned. If her queen wasn't ready to kill him, did that mean he hadn't hurt her too badly? He could barely remember anything, except the sweet touch of her skin and the elated feeling that it was her he'd found, not someone else, some stranger he'd doubtlessly grow to resent as time went on. Yet -- she'd said she was inexperienced, and he remembered slight tenseness, some resistance. He remembered enough to wonder if he was too rough, wonder if he'd hurt her emotionally or physically. Would she hate him for all time? Was she awake?

You're being ridiculous. I lost a flight, you won one, and you are sulking like someone took away your favorite dagger. If you're that concerned, sit up and ask her if she's been harmed. You're irritating me. Needless to say, the bronze was not exactly in a good mood. His tail flicked animatedly from where he was lying curled up on the edge of Hepaticath's weyrledge. He had a good reason, though, for not immediately going over to her side. In his mind, it would've been an insult to her, to only come back to her after failing to catch Aslath. He was waiting, giving it some time, giving her some time to understand that while he sought her presence, it wasn't simply to soothe his wounded ego. It was because she was one of the few dragons he cared about. Hepaticath was a queen, even if she was a young one, and he didn't intend to insult her.

Ka'rys winced slightly at the infliction in his dragon's voice, but did not speak. Instead he slowly moved to prop himself up on his elbows, a wave of brown hair falling over his face to obscure his eyes. His gaze, however, was square on Savitri's face. "'Vi...? Are you awake?" he asked quietly, ignoring Ciceroth's growing irritation with him. Impatient creature.

[kysseh]

Oh, dear. He was awake, wasn't he? Savitri stayed very still and did not make any protests when the bronzerider began to squirm away from her, aware that the hand around her waist was moving away. The young woman did not react, not sure how to respond to her bedmate now that he was awake. Shards, but... she hadn't even known how to lie properly next to him when he was asleep. This was horribly awkward, and she was sorely tempted to drag a pillow over her face to hide her embarrassment over the whole matter. That would have required pulling her arms from beneath the scanty warmth of the furs, though, and she would rather stay warm, a feeling emphasized by the shiver that started at the back of her neck and ran down her whole body, goosebumps peppering her arms. Shards, but why was she so cold?

You two kicked most of the furs off the bed, and you are not wearing layers. Hepaticath pointed out most unhelpfully from her couch, her eyes whirling a highly amused blue-green. The young gold scooted around in her couch to get comfortable, sighing in contentment. She was comfortable, she was, and life was very good. Hers had been Flown and would be happy about it again soon. Hepaticath also had her bronze back in her possession--and, oh yes, Ciceroth was most definitely hers, whether he knew it and liked it or not--so it was hard for the gold to be surly. Her adolescent sulking over Ciceroth Chasing Aslath had vanished now that he was back. That silly queen had chosen some other bronze, which meant that Hepaticath could reclaim what was rightfully hers.

And she was waiting now for him to come join her. He would, eventually. She would ask him, eventually, if he took too long. For now, though, she just watched the amusing scene playing out over by Hers' sleeping place. And it was so amusing too! Humans were so silly about flights.

Sorely tempted to retrieve those fallen furs so she could stop the chills from overtaking her body, Savitri was instead distracted at Ka'rys' movements to prop himself up. She glanced back at him over her shoulder and then rolled to her back, mindful to hold the furs up to cover her massively scarred chest. It belatedly dawned on her that he had seen all of the nasty marks already and could still see a few above the level of the furs where she held them against her breast. Ah well. She just relaxed her hold and let the furs rest there, covering her... mostly decently. Her green eyes focused on his arms where he propped himself up, gaze roaming over him and refusing to settle on his face.

He just had to talk, though, and she nodded, even though he probably knew the answer already. She was looking right at him, after all, and had her eyes open. The use of his nickname for her had her quirking her lips in a hesitant smile. "I'm awake," she said softly, unwilling to ruin the moment by speaking too loudly. "I'm sorry... for waking you." Neither of them had slept long, she knew, if it was just becoming dark outside now. He had probably slept better than she, the young woman thought with a twinge of bitterness. He was used to sharing a bed. She wasn't. "Got kind of cold."

Another unconscious shiver, and she held the furs tighter against herself, staring up at his face. Before she could stop it, one of her hands lifted to brush the offending bit of hair from his face, ignoring the fact that her own long hair was splayed in a tousled mess on the pillow. She wanted to say something else, to talk about what had instigated their encounter. The words didn't come, which elicited an embarrassed flush and a helpless shrug. What was there to say, really? "Are you all right?" Oh, very clever of her. Her flush deepened, her nose wrinkling at her own ineptitude. "... Stupid question."

No, really? Hepaticath queried rhetorically, rumbling softly in amusement. So silly, Hers was.

[glamourie]

A slight hint of pink colored his cheeks as she moved and Ka'rys instantly wondered where his clothing was. Somewhere on the floor no doubt. His embarrassment kept him from suffering from the same problem that she had - no part of him was chilled, primarily because he was fighting back a flush. The way her eyes roamed over him was flattering, but also a hefty reminder of the fact that he was completely naked and in an undeniably sticky predicament. She didn't look mad (She wasn't throwing pillows at him and screaming obscenities after all) nor in any way upset. Uncomfortable maybe, though the familiarity with which she brushed away the strands of hair in his face was reassuring in its own right. Not that it stopped the dark brown strands from falling right back down in front of his eyes. Sweat tended to make his hair unruly, and he'd long-since given up trying to look presentable after... well, after flights.

"You didn't wake me," he replied before finally sitting up properly. His gaze flicked around next to him before he grabbed one of the heavier furs and yanked it up onto the bed. She did wake him, but it felt very natural to deny that fact. No sense in her worrying over something she couldn't fix, after all. Ka'rys carefully spread out the blanket so that it spanned over his lap, as well as over Savitri, and then frowned at her next question. The expression was undeniably confused. "Isn't that... my line...?"

You are acting more like an embarrassed girl than she is, Rysmine. You should be ashamed.

Ka'rys shot a glare toward Ciceroth that made the bronze shift and look at him with rapidly whirling eyes. Most of the disappointment that he felt was beginning to diminish in light of his rider making it so easy to pick on him. His tail flicked mockingly, but Ka'rys did not rise to the bait. Instead, he turned back to look at Savitri, taking deliberate effort to stare at her face, even though it was hard to keep his gaze from wandering. The furs kept her mostly hidden but it didn't matter because his memory filled in the gap of what he couldn't see; he had, after all, only a few hours before, managed to see and touch all of her. That memory was burnt into his brain, the images forever there -- whether either of them liked it or not. It took a conscious effort on his part to avoid leaning forward to run his hands over her skin, down her jawline. Very tempting, it was, to lean forward and catch her lips, but no - no.

"I'm fine," Ka'rys added weakly. "Are... you?" He wanted so badly to launch into apologies, but it seemed somewhat inappropriate. If she was okay, he didn't want to run the risk of making her think he was unhappy with anything. He wasn't. By Faranth, he was so far from unhappy it was sickening. The only thing keeping him from bouncing around in excitement (silly as it would have been) was the worry that he'd forever damaged his relationship with her by being a wherrybrain. He'd worried she would be uncomfortable, because of her behavior during Millieth's flight. It never even dawned on him that him showing up in her weyr probably would not have helped that. Stupid, stupid. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have - I was worried, after how you reacted to Millieth. As soon as I could think I wanted to make sure you were okay, but ... It didn't really dawn on me that I probably shouldn't have, uh... that is I... shard it, Ciceroth, don't make me skin you!"

Ciceroth's rumbling was getting steadily louder, and by the time Ka'rys blurted out his insult, the bronze had sprawled out and was crooning in delight. All of his anger about losing to Corinth was gone in a flash of amusement at his rider's expense. Wasn't it always that way? I am petrified, Rysmine. Please, by all means, climb out of the furs, with your lack of extra hide, and skin me. Walk across Hepaticath's weyr over here, completely without your fabric coverings, and yell some more. I do not think that Hepaticath's will mind. He rumbled louder, then stood up and stretched out. I can ask Hepaticath, if you like, but I think we both know what the answer to that will be...

[kysseh]

So... the cold feet to the legs hadn't awakened him? Her nose crinkled again, and she gave Ka'rys a look of mild exasperation, despite the rather... odd situation she found herself in. Apparently, her need to make a point was not diminished after a round of energetic.... whatever-that-was-technically-called. "You don't have to lie, Ka'rys," she said quietly, propping herself up a few inches on both elbows and letting the furs slip dangerously low on her torso. Covering up was a useless exercise at this point except for warmth. His response to her ridiculous question was not comforting, mostly because his tone was... a little on the edgy side.

Ciceroth's rumbling did distract her, and she glanced in the bronze's direction and chuckled mildly, shaking her tousle-haired head and inching closer to Ka'ry's warmth. "They're both laughing at us, aren't they?" she asked rhetorically, her tone still quiet as she gestured with her chin at the queen radiating smugness from her couch. "She is." She inhaled deeply and then let the air out slowly, trying to calm her fluttering stomach. Shards, but she was so nervous. Ka'rys being so uncertain wasn't helping. Now would have been a good time for him to act over-confident. Of all time for his ego to have left... "I'm fine, Rys. It's... a little uncomfortable, but nothing hurts. I'm just... this is sort of awkward. Don't really know what I'm doing," she stuttered out, reaching up again to try to shove his hair from his face. It wasn't working, sadly enough.

"Thank you for being worried. We went to the coast and then... came back, and... you were... here. I don't... I'm not upset, though," she managed to get out, for all the lack of sense that it made. She ducked her head, her expression suddenly youthfully shy. Where to go from here? What to do? "I... err. I didn't... hurt you at all, did I?" she asked softly, looking back up at him with cheeks flushed with utter embarrassment. She vaguely remembered lots of noises she did not know she could make, as well as the use of fingernails. Had she used her teeth on him? She couldn't remember.

They are quite silly beasts, are they not? Hepaticath was saying to Ciceroth with undisguised amusement, watching Hers stuttering her way through an attempted conversation. Silly creatures. They should just cuddle. That or Fly again. That is what they are supposed to do. It sounded very sensible to her, and the gold idly crossed her forelegs and draped her neck across it. A new train of thought from Hers elicited a snort from the young queen, mostly because Savitri had become distracted and was now sitting upright.... sans clothing. Savitri realized that only too late. Not cold any longer, Mine?

The look that Savitri sent her dragon was nothing short of murderous, and she scowled, a rather hilarious expression given her current state. Now sitting upright, the furs had fallen to her lap, goosebumps trailing over her exposed skin. She was ignoring that, though, mostly because acknowledging it would only have made her blush more. "Do you... regret this?" That was a crucial sort of question, she thought.

[glamourie]

It took every inch of his effort not to reply with his initial thought: that she didn't have to argue with every single thing he said. She seemed to enjoy bickering, and he wasn't going to get into that at such a... well, he didn't feel like arguing. So, he said nothing, deliberately dropping that topic in favor of scooting back as much as he could... and toward her, a little. So strange. The last time he woke up after a flight, he fled, but that was because he knew Shmee would come after his head. She probably still would. Ciceroth's stunt with Kindrith was bound to earn him a few enemies. That thought burned in his mind, along with a fleeting worry of whether or not E'yan and Kindrith were harmed. He had no idea where they were, and no way of knowing if they were okay after the flight. He pushed his worry about the bluepair out of his mind for the time being and instead turned his full attention to Savitri.

"Ciceroth finds me amusing. He's always laughing at me, you'll find." He shook his head slowly. Ka'rys was used to his dragon's sadistic glee in his misfortunes. So long as he wasn't hurt or mentally scarred, Ciceroth took surprising delight in him getting humiliated. He'd accepted it long ago, though acceptance did not stop him from yelling every chance he got. Ka'rys turned his gaze to Savitri and he watched her silently as she spoke. His eyes followed her hand, and he went cross-eyed to watch her push his hair from his face to no avail. Once her hand fell away, he pulled her closer, almost completely into his lap. So what if they weren't dressed? He wanted to hold her and be closer to her. Not like anyone was around to say anything, except the two laughing, winged dunces. Pfft. "You scratched me a few times, but hurt isn't the word I'd use for that," he admitted, arms looping around her from behind. His head rested on her shoulder, possessive. "You're over-thinking more than I am. That is both reassuring and frightening at once, and I commend you on making my brain hurt."

How funny, she had one of those looks too! Following her gaze to Hepaticath, Ka'rys couldn't help but grin, and he hid it by turning his face directly toward her hair. The dragons would doubtlessly be able to see, but hopefully neither would tattle on him for finding Savitri's agitation so amusing. Whatever the gold said obviously had her riled up. Gently, Ka'rys kissed her temple, his arms tightening around her chest, skin on soft and slightly scarred skin. Unlike Savitri, he had no problem with the scars at all, and honestly did not understand why they bothered her so much. He thought them beautiful, though in his own way he rather longed to kick the bronze that injured her so, for it bothered her so much. Random thoughts. His eyes closed, and her question made him lean his head against hers. Didn't his actions make it clear exactly how he felt? He thought they did; apparently not.

Oh don't expect her to read your mind, Ciceroth scolded as he made his way over toward Hepaticath. Once he reached her side, he flopped down against her (quite literally) and stretched. His left wing was exceedingly sore. To the queen, he replied simply, Rysmine is worried that you or Yours are hurt because of him. He seems to think somehow this has bothered you. I told him you're fine, he doesn't believe me, and he is very sure Yours will be mad at him. She does not seem mad, so he is calming down. He is mad at me, too. The last part was amused, and Ciceroth's eyes whirled a vivid blue-green. I find him very silly.

"Do I seem like I do?" he asked without moving, aside from tightening his arms around her. His gold. His. "The only thing I regret is that Ciceroth decided to try and be noble. He's almost certainly pulled a muscle in his wing, and I'm going to have to listen to Shmee complain - or him complain about Aslath complaining - all because he felt the need to try and keep Kindrith from becoming a splatter of ichor and blue flesh on the ground." He -- Ka'rys was blaming Ciceroth completely, but a lot of that was him, too. He didn't want to lose one of his riders. Oh, but they weren't his anymore, were they? No longer Weyrleader. That was T'rid's problem. He probably wouldn't be a wingleader anymore, either. How funny.

[kysseh]

Oh, the dragonpair seemed quite happy to be amused at their humans' expense, a thought which had Savitri scowling darkly at both of the winged brats. Sure, she liked Ciceroth just fine, but at the moment, he was irritating, if only because... well, she was in a mood. She had intended to be angry but was effectively distracted by Ka'rys pulling her closer. Her body tensed initially, unsure if she liked being handled as such. Then she ended up on his lap, her back pressed up against his front, and the pulling and tugging were immediately designated as highly tolerable. His arms around her waist, head on her shoulder, had her leaning her head against his for a moment, hoping he didn't mind that she was a tousled mess. It was his own fault, after all.

Oh, shards, but he had her stomach flip-flopping with the way he was embracing her. She squirmed in his hold, turning her head in surprise at the feel of lips against her temple. The increase of her pressure around her chest had her hissing softly. The scars, though nearly a Turn old, were still highly sensitive. "Gentle there..." she murmured quietly, wriggling a bit. Her gaze flicked to the dragons as Ciceroth joined her Cath in the couch, then she turned at an odd angle to look back at her bedmate and.... lover? The thought of the word had her tensing again, and then she distracted herself by wriggling around in his lap, leaning her side against his chest and drawing her legs in to be comfortably in his hold. Her arms went around him, holding her light eyes focused on his face.

His words... oh, shards. Her gaze dropped. So... he was not ashamed or experiencing any regrets, though she was not shy about having asked. "I can't tell with you sometimes," she admitted quietly, lifting her eyes again to watch his expression. The impact of what Ciceroth had done, though, shocked her, and she frowned slightly. "Wait.... what did Ciceroth do? Why was he saving Kindrith? His wing is hurt?" Concern for Ciceroth decorated her face, and she glanced over at the bronze to make sure he wasn't sporting any horrendous wounds.

Hepaticath was delighted when Ciceroth joined her and crooned lowly to him, not the least be bothered when he literally flopped down against her. He was still bigger, her playmate was, but he would not be bigger for much longer. She was quite rapidly catching up. Her head rubbed against his neck, affectionate and simply welcoming. They are both silly, Yours and Mine. I am not hurt, Mine is not hurt. But... The concern radiating off Savitri had Hepaticath suddenly alert, and she crooned anxiously, nuzzling at Ciceroth's lovely neck. You caught one of the blues? You're hurt? What happened? she asked rapidly, protective instincts coming to the fore as her tail curled around his, her nose ghosting over his wings to see where this hurt was coming from.

[glamourie]

Wriggling was bad. Did she not know how bad that was? He squirmed slightly and tensed at the instant physical reaction he had to her touch; it wasn't his fault that she was attractive and very nude, pressed up against him. Her warning that he was being too firm was noticed, but... also slightly disappointing; why did the scars have to be on the one part of the female anatomy that was extremely arousing to squeeze, touch and fondle? Why was it that of all the parts of her that the little bronze menace could have scarred, he had to pick the one human males were most likely to be interested in? Slightly irritated by that thought, Ka'rys closed his eyes and grinned apologetically; it was only half-sincere. There weren't any clothes to distract from the fact that he was most intensely enjoying the way she was wriggling in his lap, nor that he liked how close she was pressed up against him, so warm and soft to the touch - so real. Her skin felt so perfect against his. When was the last time that he'd taken a lover and well-and-truly liked the person? Not since Leradi, quite a long time ago indeed.

Her question about Kindrith made him look down at her and pull away slightly - just so they could see one another clearly. "In the flight. I - it's - I only remember what Ciceroth saw. When he Chases, I go under close to completely." He shook his head slightly, then frowned. "Cyanth, Kaaoloth and Corinth were surrounding Kindrith - the only blue in Aslath's flight. Surrounding him, preventing him from following closer, not that he could have. Kindrith dropped like a weight, falling toward the ground ridiculously quickly. His own wings were too small to come out of it completely. Ciss - I - we couldn't let him fall, couldn't let him die. He'd have died if he hit the ground at that speed. Died."

Ka'rys loosened his arms slightly, nervousness evident in his posture. Ciceroth mimicked his shifting slightly, though the bronzerider did not appear to notice. Or, more accurately, though he noticed, he did not really care. "Ciceroth dropped after him, fast as we could -- and we managed to slow him. He still dropped, he hit the water, but..." He closed his eyes and kissed Savitri's cheek, the touch as gentle as possible. "That was near the middle of the flight. Probably would've made more sense just to fly Kindrith toward land, but Ciss is a bronze, he couldn't completely give up a queenflight. So he let Kindrith go; if he fell it would hit water, and he'd survive that. We flew up as fast as we could, managed to catch up near the end and she chose Corinth. She chose Corinth who felt threatened by a blue." He blinked twice, then gazed down at Savitri. "Kindrith is - was - ours. Ours to protect, even if that meant..." It didn't make much sense, but...

Ciceroth viewed Kindrith as his. He viewed all the dragons at Selenitas as his, even though he'd failed to catch Aslath. It didn't make a lot of sense, even to Ka'rys, but... that was how the bronze felt. Kindrith was theirs to protect and as the Weyrleader - at the time - it was his responsibility to make sure no harm came to him. That meant sacrificing every chance he had at winning, yes, he knew, he'd known even then, but a dragon's life was worth more to him. Kindrith was as much a dragon as Cyanth and Corinth, as Kaaoloth and Ciceroth himself, whether his hide was shiny or not. He knew that, and it was just a shame that the fools who were Chasing Aslath did not. And that was what they were: fools.

The bronze crooned quietly and nudged Hepaticath before replying honestly, My wing is a little sore. Nothing going easy on it will not fix. I tried to fly too quickly, to come out of a fall too fast, and now I am stiff. It is nothing that will not heal, nor anything that merits worry. He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck affectionately. I didn't want one of my blues hurt. Aslath may not have minded if he was killed, but I did, do, and I regret nothing. I expect she is very mad at me right now. She was not my complete focus, and I am sure she will not thank me for that insult. He drooped his wings slightly, then added, I regret nothing. If she'd rather have a bronze who was that insecure as her mate, so be it. He knew he was the better of the two of them. He did.

[kysseh]

Savitri would have been completely unobservant and an idiot to miss the effects that her physical proximity and motions had on Ka'rys, and she tried to remain still to keep from exacerbating the issue. It was not that she did not want him interested in her. She just... was not feeling up to dealing with that for the moment. She liked just being held, and getting him excited could result in an escalation. Her body pressed up against his solid warmth, one hand lifting to splay across his chest. She liked the feel of his muscles beneath the skin, liked the strength there. If she had not been preoccupied with just enjoying his warm proximity, her hands would have been all over him, investigating his musculature.

He was going to answer her, and she reluctantly permitted him to pull back enough to explain, her eyes intently watching his face. The kiss to her cheek was only vaguely noted, her hand slipping up to his shoulder as she listened, processed, tried to understand. He... or Ciceroth, more specifically... had purposely abandoned the flight, if only temporarily, to save another dragon. It had cost him the flight, she guessed, given Aslath's temperamental preferences. The implication of that shocked her, her emotions evident in her expression. She had no words for it, though, so she simply pressed her lips to his and then withdrew, her smile of adoring pride speaking on her behalf. "I think you two are a rare find among males," she murmured softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek when she could come up with nothing else to say.

Hepaticath agreed with that sentiment even in her silence as Savitri passed along the story and Ciceroth told his version. She nuzzled gently at the base of her bronze's wings, flicking out her tongue to lightly touch his shining hide. Stretch it and make it comfortable. I do not want you to hurt worse. she encouraged him, returning his affection with a gentle croon and a flicker of her tongue. His words had her huffing softly and pressing closer to him. There is no insult in you saving someone who tries bravely to pursue her. Hepaticath said with no lack of irritation, her ire directed at Aslath and not her current cuddlemate. It is her loss for choosing another. Not yours. Her loss and Hepaticath's gain, of course...

Savitri shifted a bit in Ka'rys' arms, flicking a bit of a grimace as she acknowledged that the scars on her torso would need to be tended to. He had not irritated them, specifically, but... well, vigorous physical activity did tend to aggravate the still-healing areas. "I'll be right back," she promised him quietly before squirming away and slipping from the bed, immediately shivering at the loss of close, warming contact. Unashamed of her nudity, she padded over to her dresser and retrieved the little jar and then scurried back to her bed, crawling back to the bronzerider and the warmth he provided. Settling comfortably in a seated position, she opened the little jar and dipped her fingers into the salve before starting to work it into her scarred torso. Even in the low light afforded by the glowbaskets, she was somewhat repulsed by the mass of scarring from the level of her collarbones down to about her navel. One long line extended lower, ending just below the level of her hips. She hated it and the constant attention and care it required, especially when it meant she had to keep out of Ka'rys' warm arms to avoid discomfort. "Sorry.... need to do this twice a day, and they're sore right now," she said, flicking him an apologetic look. "It won't take long." No, no, it wouldn't, even if she had to rush it a bit. She'd be back to snuggling him quickly enough.

[glamourie]

Ka'rys smiled weakly at her... compliment? Statement? Whatever it was; he didn't particularly agree with her. He didn't see anything... good... about saving Kindrith. Practical, yes. Letting Kindrith die would have soured the flight completely and would doubtlessly have resulted in a period of mourning. He wasn't selfish enough to put his own lust above another's life, even if it was flightlust, and neither was Ciceroth. The fact that his bronze liked the lesser ranking dragons better than he did other bronzes and most queens also was a factor, and Kindrith was Ciceroth's clutchbrother - literally. Ka'rys knew E'yan well enough. They'd trained together as weyrlings, went to all the same classes. There were not very many people at Selenitas that Ka'rys could say knew him at all, but E'yan was there when they trained, through all of Ciceroth's reckless attempts at proving he was superior to the other bronzes... how he remembered, vividly, the first time they flew. He'd been climbing on Ciceroth tightening his straps and the bronze suddenly bolted over the ground, upward toward the drumheights, and then threw himself into the air. He'd screamed bloody murder at Ciceroth, and the bronze had to beat his wings a few times, it stung, but they flew - they flew gracelessly and landed. Only a handful of people would have known about that. E'yan would've. Kindrith and E'yan didn't deserve to be humiliated by the way that Corinth, Cyanth and Kaaoloth behaved.

Dark brown eyes followed her movements as she stood up and his head tilted to the side just slightly. Once her warmth was away from him, he twitched (visibly) and looked around the sides of the bed. Three swats was all it took before his fingers snagged on his pants and he swung his legs over the side to pull them on. They were black fabric and hung entirely too loose on him around the legs, barely securing at the waist; they were his typical flight clothes. He couldn't bring himself to just be completely nude, it was awkward, and having pants to pull on should he need to escape at a very quick speed was useful.

Ciceroth crooned softly at Hepaticath, though he did not make any attempt to move his left wing. It was fine, really. RysHis was just worrying too much about it. A little stiffness wasn't unusual. For him to fly that fast, all at once, wasn't common for him, he wasn't used to it - that was all. Nothing terrible to worry about. The insult is in not focusing entirely on her, when she should have had my full attention. Despite his disagreeing, Ciceroth had no problem turning to lay his head on Hepaticath's back, two out of three of his eyelid layers falling closed. I am touched that you think so highly of me. His ego was still stinging slightly, though. There was nothing that could fix that but time. Part of it was that he felt like Aslath never really thought much of him. Her behavior during Tanith's flight testified to that, and he was still moderately upset. Against his better judgment, he added, Now she has Corinth who she can cast away the next time she and Salenth are getting along perfectly. It might not have been welcome to mention that - nor wise. Speaking against a queen for any reason wasn't usually the smartest thing to do, but... he trusted Hepaticath.

Savitri returned, and Ka'rys swung his legs back up onto the bed, then pulled his knees up slightly. His arms rested over them, fingers dangling mid air, and he watched her curiously. "Should I apologize for agitating them?" he inquired softly before uncurling to scoot across the bed. The movement put him right in front of her, and he took the jar from her hands to gather some of the salve on his fingers. "Do they hurt much?" He couldn't really remember what it felt like when his back was still healing, mainly because he'd been so young. With the salve on his fingers, Ka'rys leaned forward the run the pads of each digit over the scars trailing over her chest, completely shameless. Though his mind registered her state of undress, the majority of him was focused instead on trying to ease any discomfort; thus, he did not find the contact exciting in any way. Fascinating, yes, but that wasn't the same. "It's funny. T'rid is Weyrleader now... and I have this urge to laugh hysterically that he now has to deal with Shmee regularly. Is that cruel of me?"

[kysseh]

Only Ka'rys would choose the opportunity to pull on clothes instead of examining a nude and uncovered woman. Were she not feeling rather lazily satisfied after... that... Savitri would have been a bit offended, she thought. As it was, she could scarcely bring herself to be irritated, especially when he sounded so concerned about her well-being. "It's all right. They're just... sensitive. Any kind of vigorous activity that stretches them out... it makes them a little inflamed. Not your fault," she said quietly, grateful when he came closer. She was still chilled and fully intended to retreat back to the warm safety of his lap as soon as she had tended to the old wounds.

The removal of the jar from her grasp had her startled, eliciting a soft exclamation as the warmth of his fingers came in contact with her skin. A protest rose but quickly died on her lips, a soft moan emerging instead. Despite the awkwardness of Ka'rys touching her, it was not uncomfortable. Her face colored a bit, mostly out of embarrassment that she could not identify a cause for. Her salve-slicked fingers lifted to curl around the back of his neck, encouraging him. Wait... was he talking to her? He actually expected her to focus when cold, disoriented, half-asleep, and being touched? It took her a moment to process his query and offer forth a response, and even then, it sounded... juvenile, even as it emerged. "Yes, but... well, it's Corinth and Aslath's fault that he's in that spot. Not yours."

Her free hand drifted--she had given up entirely on tending to her own wounds; Ka'rys had that under control--to rest on his thigh, tugging lightly at the dark cloth covering him. "Why'd you get dressed? Leaving?" She swallowed quickly to force down her immediate negative reaction to that thought, green eyes focusing on his face, inquiring. He would really leave, after all of... no, no, he wouldn't. It did not seem logical. Her hand rubbed idly at his leg, thumb stroking the back of his neck. That simple touch of skin on skin was comforting, soothing, and it made it easier to ignore the lingering discomfort from their... encounter.

Hepaticath did not feel the least bit inclined to argue with Ciceroth on that count, so she said nothing, simply nuzzling very gently at the base of his wings. He had not adjusted his wings, of course, but that did not stop her from worrying. She would bother Hers to examine Ciceroth's wings later. For now, she let him rest, crooning in adoration as she felt the weight of his head on her back. Her own neck curled around him, head on the ground and leaned against his warmth. Her eyelids began to close in relaxation but snapped open at his words, and she immediately sensed bitterness and a wounded pride. Reasonable, she thought... but not the way she wanted her beloved playmate to feel.

Do not be upset, CissMine. You do not need to be jealous of her pets. she said simply, rumbling softly at the bronze. She felt, of course, that her Ciceroth was far better than that. He was not a pet. You are too smart to be a pet. Her following snort was one of certain amusement at the very thought of it. Ciceroth? A pet? Hardly.

[glamourie]

Pants were a good thing. A very good thing. Noises tended to catch his interest more than sights; in that respect, he was perhaps unusual, though he'd never bothered to ask whether or not other men preferred sound as much as he did. That was hardly something one talked about with others. Ka'rys was distinctly pleased that she was so quickly distracted by his touch, too, since there was almost nothing meant by it; he was simply trying to help. Her response, though, was the most amusing thing to him. Normally Savitri scolded him for such remarks, or informed him of how childish he was being. Even he recognized the delight he felt at T'rid being stuck dealing with Shmee wasn't exactly the most mature of reactions. It was nicely ironic, though. Of all the bronzeriders in the Weyr, T'rid (from what he'd heard) was one of the least mature, therefore, the one most likely to get along with Shmee. They could act infantile together and Selenitas would burn to the ground. Part of him was worried; most of him was just so ecstatic to be able to go back to being a hermit, though, that it didn't matter.

Well. If Savitri let him go back to being a hermit. He had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't about to hold still for that, though, considering that she'd hunted him down before when he was spending all of his time alone. Did he really want to avoid everyone? ... No, just most people. She didn't fall under that category, but associating with another goldrider wouldn't keep him out of the limelight in any manner of speaking. Did it matter? No, not really.

Each touch was distracting, though, and to keep himself in check, he pointedly watched the movements his own fingers made over her scars. It took conscious effort to keep reminding himself to focus on that, and not anything else, anything like her touch through the thin fabric of his pants. Her fingers were surprisingly cold, likely because of the salve, and the touch at the base of his neck made him shiver despite himself. It wasn't just from the chill, though he would've liked to claim that it was. What was one supposed to do when they willingly threw themselves into a fire? Stand and burn? ... That seemed like his only option, really, short of running around and hoping he didn't fry completely. Metaphorically speaking.

"What?" he asked, as though coming out of a trance. Her question seemed so out of the blue that it confused him, which amused Ciceroth. He ignored the bronze completely. "What, leaving? No - I just thought pants might keep me from, um.. might minimize temptation some." Honesty at its finest. Admitting that made him twitch slightly, but he managed to keep himself composed well enough. He was not going to be embarrassed by the fact that he was physically attracted to her. It was a perfectly normal reaction, even if he did pride himself on being anything but perfectly normal most of the time. "I'm not going anywhere unless you're kicking me out. Are you kicking me out?"

The gentle nuzzling on his left wing made him twitch slightly and he tightened the wing closer to his body, almost as if cradling it. There was a slight soreness, but overall he was okay. He crooned quietly, then went completely still, comforted by the warmth against him. What did she mean by hers, though? His eyes whirled in confusion that he projected to Ka'rys, but got no response other than amusement. Typical. I am not jealous of her pets, he said softly, I just don't like being cast aside as though I am nothing.

Picking up on Ciceroth's feelings, Ka'rys glanced away from Savitri to speak to Hepaticath himself, "He doesn't like being told, essentially, that he is caged in, yet she is not. What I mean is, had he Chased any dragon other than her, she would probably have been furious - yet it was okay for her to throw a fit over other bronzes. It bothers him. It's always bothered him." He turned back to Savitri and frowned. "I almost punched Shmee in fury at Aslath when Tanith Rose. It took all my effort not to throttle the life out of her, and then for Aslath to act as if Ciceroth should be perfectly friendly... was irritating. He was though. I don't think he's capable of being disrespectful."

[kysseh]

She felt and saw him shiver, and Savitri was oddly reassured by that unconscious gesture. That Ka'rys reacted to her the way she did to him made her feel less... ridiculous for having such an intense physical response to his motions. Her trust in him was not in question. It was bothering her, however, that she did not know what to do. What was she allowed to do, and what not? Were there manners associated with Flights and the aftermath? Wishing that the weyrlingmasters had given them a good long talk on this, she shifted restlessly beneath his touch, her mind racing to formulate a decent question and her eyes focusing still on his face.

His response to her question startled a half-chuckle from her, and she almost wanted to laugh at the thought that she would want to kick him out. Then again... well, she was rather uncertain, she admitted silently. Really, would she be clinging to him--oh, shards, she was clinging too!--if he was unwelcome, though? They were a pair of idiots, her and her Rys. Her Rys... she liked the sound of that, her back straightening and a smile ghosting across her face at the mere thought. Belatedly, Savitri realized her mind had wandered, and she came alert at the irritation emanating off her mindmate. She looked sharply toward the young gold to see a quick whirl of orange and yellow in the weyrling's eyes. Cath, what-

I am not angry at Ciceroth. I am angry that he is upset. the weyrling clarified privately to Hers, lifting her head from the ground to regard the pair on the bed. Ka'rys' words were recognized and taken into account, and after a moment, the yellow faded its way back to green as she began to settle. It distressed her to see her favored playmate so upset about the senior queen's behavior, and the young gold huffed in irritation. I have no words for how angry it makes me... that she behaves toward you that way. was what finally emerged to Ciceroth. She crooned low in her throat and left his wings be, her tail twining very gently with his. No... there were no words, or none that she could think of, anyway.

Savitri finally managed to tear her eyes away from her mindmate to focus again on Ka'rys. His words had her nodding briefly in understanding, and then she indulged in a rare youthful moment and scooted in close to him, arms around his neck. Her scars were forgotten, mostly because the roil of emotions coming off Hepaticath had her unsettled. The gold was normally the less reactive of the pair, but with Cath riled on Ciceroth's behalf... "Sorry. Emotional," she murmured, her face buried against the side of his neck. "I was furious at Shmee... and at Aslath. Bratty, insecure teenagers... except worse, since they're supposed to be setting examples for everyone else."

She pulled away after just a moment, albeit just far enough away to look him in the face. "Cath was too young when Tanith Rose... she didn't understand and didn't know him well then. She does now, and she's angry that Aslath was so rude toward him. Angry on his behalf," she elaborated quietly, giving a slight shrug of her shoulders and then shivering at the chill. Shardit, how was it that he was so warm while she couldn't hold heat to save her life?! It just figured. "He's special to her, so she thinks he should be treated as the greatest-"

Second greatest. You're first.

Rolling her eyes, the young woman edited. "-second-greatest creature alive, after me, apparently." This was giving her a headache, and she released him with one hand to rub lightly at her temple, sighing softly. Her brain was too muddled from sex, sleep deprivation, and emotional overload to process it all at the moment. "He's her favorite, though she'd never be rude enough to say it."

[glamourie]

Ciceroth’s eyes whirled rapidly in confusion, and he ducked his head down beneath his good wing. Though Hepaticath didn’t mean it, an angry queen was rarely a good thing and he was loathe to be on her bad side. It wasn’t him she was angry at, she made that much clear with her wording, but evident or not, he was still extraordinarily uncomfortable. Angry queens, even young ones, rarely amounted to anything good. Bold and sometimes bizarre though he was, Ciceroth was a bronze at heart and no bronze liked to see any queen upset. He was fond of Hepaticath, which did not help anything. Being fond of her meant that her distress upset him more, and the confusion layered with guilt bled over to Ka’rys, even though Ciceroth did his best to keep it from showing. The bronze forced himself to relax, physically, though he kept his head hidden. Two of his eyelids fell closed and he crooned to Hepaticath, hoping to soothe her temper. Even though she said it wasn’t him she was angry with, he was still bothered; her being angry at Aslath could have no good results. As flattering as it was that she cared, he did not want Hepaticath to get herself in trouble by contending with the Senior Queen. Nothing good could come of that at all.

Curling the end of his tail around hers, Ciceroth nuzzled his own wing in what could be taken as preening; he was, in fact, simply trying to make himself comfortable in the semi-unusual position he’d curled himself into. Not that strange positions were out of the ordinary for Ciceroth. He liked sleeping curled up into a tiny little ball, after all, with his head underneath the majority of his body, and he enjoyed curling himself amidst the rocks next to the riverbed, even though that position was frequently viewed as uncomfortable at best. Certainly it wasn’t easy trying to get himself curled up like that, though he managed well enough. Ciceroth was a pretzel of a dragon.

Upsetting you was never my intention, and I do not want you to be angry in my defense. It was a long time ago. He was still upset, yes, but that stemmed more from pride than anything else. She does not treat me particularly cruelly. She is Senior Queen. That she speaks to me at all is a compliment. Whether he really believed that or not was unclear by his ‘tone.’ It was a common view, in his experience, for bronzes to appreciate any attention given to them by golds, whether it was negative or positive. Ciceroth didn’t share that opinion. There was a reason he did not chase queens at Fort. He expected to be treated with respect, as an equal, and Aslath simply proved no queen was capable of that. Not even the one he was curling up with, though he would have liked to believe that Hepaticath did really enjoy his company. Perhaps he was just made cynical. Losing was not something he took well.

Ka’rys gingerly wound his arms around Savitri’s waist, not remotely bothered by her proximity. If she thought he was going to get upset, she was mistaken. Though he was not normally a touchy-feely sort, there was something to be said about privacy and intimacy. They were alone, what did it matter? Ciceroth was upset, feeling insecure, and that did bleed over to him to some degree, along with the anxiety the bronze felt in regards to Hepaticath being upset. He wisely did not relay that to Savitri, knowing full-well it would just make her and the young queen both uncomfortable. Peaceful calm was appreciated, adored even, and he was in no hurry to have it ruined by opening his big mouth. There was a time and place for full honesty. Later on they could talk about awkward things. Not when they were so close.

“He’ll be fine,” he said softly, nuzzling Savitri’s hair. “He’s just distressed. He doesn’t like losing, takes it even worse than most males do.” He didn’t add that Ciceroth losing flights wasn’t common. Most greens in the north knew a good deal when it was presented before them - a bronze that would make no demands of them, and would treat them as equals, was almost an anomaly. Though greens were considered the lesser of dragons, most of them were smart enough to realize just how fortunate they were with Ciceroth. He really did try his best to treat the lesser colors as equals, and not just for flight purposes. In the south he’d Chased considerably less, but he never took losing well. Losing to Corinth seemed to be a personal affront to Ciceroth, though whether that was because of T’rid being so young or because of what happened in the flight, Ka’rys wasn’t sure. He’d ask later. “He… Ciceroth is… he views all dragons as equals in their own right… and Kindrith is Ciceroth’s clutch sibling. Literally, they hatched from the exact same clutch. E’yan and I were weyrlings together. Feels so long ago.” Shaking his head, he added blandly, “I think Ciceroth simply can’t grasp that Aslath doesn’t believe he’s the best dragon on Pern when he certainly thinks he is. Not being able to understand has him in fits. He’ll be fine once he gets over it.”

[kysseh]

Hepaticath was aware that she had made her playmate uncomfortable, and the gold crooned a gentle apology, responding to the way he relaxed himself against her. It dawned on her that he was trying to comfort her, a thought which elicited a chuffing sound that bore a distinct resemblance to a human laugh. It was a draconic version of the same, for whatever anger or irritation that Hepaticath had retained on Ciceroth's behalf was promptly discarded. Well... for the moment, anyway. His tone was thoroughly unconvincing, and she had her own private opinions on the matter which were destined to remain very, very private without good cause.

Her temper tantrum over, she relaxed and let Ciceroth work to make himself comfortable, resisting the urge to help. If he needed her, he would ask, she decided. She should be complimented you find her worthy of your attention. Hepaticath pointed out, lifting her head a bit and angling it about, trying to find where his head was hiding at. He was hiding from her? You do not have to hide from me. I am sorry if I scared you. she said guiltily, chagrined by her flare of anger. Hepaticath was sullen only rarely, and anger or upset was even rarer. Savitri took care of most of the strong emotions for both of them. Hers was good at being emotional.

His touch seemed... almost hesitant, Savitri noted, and she wondered if she had just pushed things too far. He was not recoiling, though, so perhaps this was permissible. She let her eyes flutter closed, tired. His words filtered through her brain, registering slowly enough that it took a moment for the smile to begin to show at the corners of her mouth. A male... upset about losing a flight?! That was nearly unheard of, wasn't it? "I hope he's all right. Hepaticath is worried that he might feel insecure," she admitted, reluctant to open her eyes again and leaning into him just enough to stay warm and... close. "If I didn't know how much you disliked Shmee, I'd be wondering why you weren't sulking too. Losing doesn't sit well with many males."

Her eyes opened again at his admission that Kindrith and his rider had been in the same weyrling class as Ka'rys and Ciceroth. Her surprise was evident on her face as she made mental count, and she shook her head as it finally settled in. "...From the same clutch? Strange. I thought they were much older than that," she mused quietly, only belatedly realizing that might not have gone over well. "Or... maybe I'm mixing them up with someone else. My mind feels a little chaotic right now." She had added that on a little too swiftly, her backtracking obvious enough to make her cringe. It hadn't been a lie, though; surely, he could see that.