A Flight-Mixed Cocktail (S'rei)

[reqqy]

The bronzerider removed himself from the scene unfolding before him, a pensive frown touching his face. It was becoming increasingly clear why Faolan had been sent south. S'rei was familiar enough with the slave trade to understand what the north looked for, and the former bluerider didn't match. Someone had gone too far. Or maybe...this - man - simply wasn't one who could be broken and still retain enough of his independence to be useful. The bronzerider was familiar with it, but he'd never so much as attempted to learn or understand the process, as it quite frankly turned his stomach. Taking advantage of people at their most vulnerable? Disgusting.

Just looking at the extent of the discipline Faolan had been subjected to suggested that the normal level of suggestibility immediately following the death of a dragon had not been there. It didn't surprise him, really. They should have just killed him. That was what usually happened, if the ex-rider proved too willful, but apparently someone decided to take up the challenge. Had they broken his mind along with his spirit? S'rei's frown deepened. As Aliscia's eyes flashed up to his questioningly, he merely shook his head. So. She hadn't seen. No, the north had little use for slaves that were obviously unruly - as any buyer would assume upon seeing that back - and even less for ones who would panic if left alone. Faolan was more like a broken, abused child than what was meant to be produced.

His guilt lancing through him, S'rei stepped forward, reluctant to interrupt but determined to give both Aliscia and Faolan their space. He didn't belong here with them at this moment. The man's hand fell on her shoulder. "You take care of your -" He couldn't find a word for Faolan. In the end, he left the sentence hanging. "I can talk to Ka'rys for you. There are other things I need to discuss with him anyway, and you - well, frankly, you don't look like you should be meeting with anyone of higher rank at the moment." And S'rei didn't wait for a response; either she would or she wouldn't accept his offer. Either way, he needed to be out of this room, and he really did have business with the Weyrleader. The bronzerider silently slipped away, leaving his own office to the two.

Faolan didn't much notice S'rei, aside from when he drew close, the boy watching him apprehensively. Her hand on his head was soothing - and still surprising, despite everything. Aliscia had never been anything but gentle with him. Yet he still expected her to push him away or strike him, as the others had. This wasn't good behavior. But he just needed to know she was okay, to touch her to reassure himself that he really did find her, that Aliscia really was here and not hurt.

Why was she...explaining herself? That wasn't necessary. Although it did help relieve some of the knots bunching in his gut. She just needed to talk to someone. That was all. Didn't want to wake him because she was being nice. "I would rather you tell me," he stated, far too boldly, and promptly pressed tighter against her legs in a silent plea for forgiveness. Then her hand was moving along his back, and he stiffened. Faolan had never let her see them, his scars, despite the fact that he slept nude beneath the furs she'd given him. He was always up earlier than she to prevent such things. Now, in a moment of fear, he'd neglected to put on a shirt as well, and she knew. Now she would send him away. They all did, once they saw. He wanted to weep as her fingers traced the lines, remembering how stupid he'd been, how much better he was now. Cherry curled tightly in Aliscia's lap, shuddering little shudders. "Please," he whispered. He liked the woman. She wasn't mean. When he did something for her, he felt that, rather than being forced to it, he actually wanted just to help her, to make it easier for her. Because she treated him...different. Confusing, sometimes, but not really a bad different. It felt as if he could almost be someone like Aliscia, when he was with her. "Please." Faolan didn't want to give that up.

Faolan responded to her urging because that was what he was wired to do. No room for disobedience in him. He stared at her fearfully, then cast his eyes downward before she could be angry at him, his body bent uncomfortably forward due to Aliscia's tugging. The boy didn't dare touch her directly with his hands to steady himself. Her words brought his eyes reluctantly back up, and then he was trapped in her golden ones, seeing the mositure and the pity. Pity. More, the signs of other distress. Forgetting for a moment that he might soon be sent away, Faolan reached out, brushed her face. "You were crying." He finally searched the room for the man who had been here before, but S'rei was long gone. Had he done something to Aliscia? Only one way to find out. "Why are you sad?"

[kysseh]

Aliscia was dismayed when S'rei gave her no help in the matter, though she was quick to get over that fact. As a grown woman, it was almost shameful to think she could not handle a distraught man... young man... on her own. Still, a little guidance would have been helpful, instead of being left to flounder helplessly. She tried to focus on Faolan, though, which wasn't hard given her instinctive reaction to try to soothe the distress from him. She hated to see anyone so frantic like that, and the feel of the scars had her further distressed and wishing she could... fix it, as cliche as that sounded even to her tired brain.

Thus, she started a little when S'rei's hand fell on her shoulder, and she pursed her lips at the bronzerider's words. She ruefully admitted to herself that he was right. There was no way she could coherently speak to Ka'rys with as fragile an emotional state as she was in now, especially not now that she was worried for her anxious roommate. S'rei was given a nod and a quiet 'thank you', though she doubted he heard it as he slipped out to go tend to things. She owed him a debt of gratitude for handling things as well as he did, and she resolved to thank him later. Much later, when she was not quite so exhausted or emotionally overwrought.

His sudden boldness elicited a weak smile from her. Of course he would rather know, but... "I'm sure, but sleep is valuable. I know that better than most," she said a bit sadly, wishing she had the luxury of being able to give it up when she wished. She needed it more than he. She was older... and it showed in many cases. Her body had taken a lot of abuse and often protested when she did things like bend over as she was doing to embrace him, her arm slipping around his upper back as her cheek rested lightly atop his head. It was uncomfortable, and her back protested. Despite this, though, the closeness was soothing.

He felt stiff beneath her touch, and she pulled back enough to watch him, wondering why he was pleading with her. He seemed so afraid and hesitant, and even Cherry was shaking in her lap. Why was he so distressed, beyond the obvious fact that the scars were probably uncomfortable and shameful? Why was he pleading with her? She wanted to ask, but his meeting of her gaze, his sudden interest in her wellbeing, had her distracted. She was startled for a moment and then nodded quietly, looking down to the flit in her lap. "I... why don't you sit... here, next to me? You can't be comfortable like that," she began quietly, gesturing for him to sit beside her chair and be comfortable... or as comfortable as one could be on the floor.

"Not sad. Just... a little upset," she admitted, touched by the way his hand brushed against her face. She reached out to stroke his back again, sighing softly as she tried to get her thoughts in order. It was hard to think when tired, hungry, and emotionally unstable, but she was trying her best. "... I.... shardit. Faolan, I'm pregnant." That had been far too difficult. "I'm not due for... months. I'm just... worried about everything... including you. Before you... make assumptions, just know that I want you to stay, okay? I'd love for you to stay," she said hurriedly, the words just spilling out in her rush, her gaze weary but honest. "I'm liking sharing my weyr with you, though we need to get you a more comfortable bed. I just... if you don't want to be around me... around a baby... then just tell me, okay? If you don't want to be around, then I'll find you somewhere else to live. But..." She could not quite bring herself to admit how much she wanted him to be with her, stay with her, mostly because she did not trust her voice at the moment, quavering as it was.

She was bothered by his pleading, still. What was he so desperate for? He had only to tell her, and she would do her best by him. "'Please' what? What's bothering you, Faolan?" she asked, rubbing her hand more firmly along his back, mindful to be gentle around his scars. Wounds, even old ones, tended to not like being less-than-tender treatment. She made a mental note to use some salve on his back when they got back... perhaps after a short nap for one or both of them. "You can tell me; it's all right." Her tone was a little softer now, wanting him to be able to trust in and confess to her. She still could not think of him as a 'slave'. She thought of him more as her ward for the moment than anything else, to be honest. Or even a helper or apprentice. Never, ever a slave.

[reqqy]

Faolan did not open his mouth to argue with her, because he had already been far too bold, draping himself over her knees as he had and saying - that. Too much more and she might stop being amused. Yes, amused. That was what he got out of it, that this woman, whom he liked because she had never hurt him, was amused by how he acted and that was why she allowed it. Women were - better - than men, anyway. Most of them. Some, though, seemed to like having a man to order around and heap cruelty on, simply as a surrogate for all the men who made their lives miserable. The dragonless listened to the cold rationality of his dark man for a few moments more, as it was this, if nothing else, that allowed him to survive. No need for such a voice with Aliscia, though. She wasn't like the others.

He didn't argue with her. He didn't say that his sleep was less important than her well-being. She knew it, even if she wouldn't say it, and it really wasn't his place to imply that her well-being relied on him. Faolan didn't want her hurting herself, or tiring herself out more, though. When did he start sleeping so heavily that she had managed to leave without his notice? He would have to be better about that. No, he wouldn't cling to her or stop her, but he would have liked to send Cherry with her just in case. Awakening to an empty weyr was frightening. His first thought was that the only person who had been kind to him at all in months had decided to desert him, but then he quickly realized that was silly, because she wouldn't just up and leave her weyr like that; she'd kick him out. Then he was simply worried about what might happen to an injured, sick woman wandering around on her own. Yes, he knew she was sick, though the why escaped him, and it was not his place to tell her to see a healer.

The man held very still as she drew him into that awkward embrace, his hands falling on her knees because he didn't want to hurt her more simply because he was off-balance. A slight tremble coursed through him. What...was she doing? It felt like a hug. But that, that didn't make any sense. For a moment he felt something stir inside him, and a wariness asserted itself. Aliscia was...toying with him, somehow. No one hugged someone like him. This was just a game. It was - distressing - but in a way it also brought some small measure of relief, because cruelty was something he knew and understood. After all, it had bothered him that she always seemed to be so nice. Aliscia was setting him up for something. Faolan just knew it.

He sat immediately, complying without thought, his eyes watching her, and, for probably the first time, the boy seemed to have given way to someone older, his pale blues narrowed and watching her with a barely veiled intensity. That creature vanished almost immediately though, at her words, his eyes widening for a moment, and he could not quite hide the beginnings of a soft smile. Faolan loved children. But then, yes, his mind jumped to the fact that she almost definitely wouldn't want him with her, now. Not when the scars made it obvious that he was inferior and probably a danger. He kept his hands still in his lap, kneeling at her side, though he had the urge to wring them. Her next words, though, brought out a genuine smile of relief, and he reached out to hug her good arm to his chest in a rare show of affection, as opposed to a gesture simply meant to comfort.

"Yes, I would like to stay," he told her, though he thought it was clear enough. More than clear. However, he would not leave this one up to chance. She hadn't been playing him when she hugged him. She'd just been upset about being pregnant, which made sense, and it also made the sickness he'd noticed fit into place. "It's better than the floor." The couch was. He didn't need a bed, really. Faolan was used to the floor, and still young enough that it didn't effect him to sleep on a hard surface. His eyes focused on her face, meeting her gaze pleadingly. Talk of his living elsewhere distressed him. "Please. Don't sent me away. I'll be good, and I won't hurt the baby. I swear to you, I won't." He couldn't, but he was acutely aware of the scars.

Those scars that she couldn't seem to stop touching. Faolan didn't dare to remove himself from beneath her fingers, though it bothered him that she wouldn't stop. Why must she keep reminding him of his shame? The question, too, seemed cruel, except he knew...that she must just be tired, or pregnant, or both. Should he answer? If she hadn't already thought it, he didn't want her thinking it now. Faolan twitched uneasily. But, in the end, it was a direct question, and he couldn't simply not answer. "Please don't...send me away." He'd released her arm when she moved to stroke his back again, and he had no place to touch her, to try to show how important this was to him. Faolan remained still. His eyes fell to his lap. "I was not - right - when they started, but I'm not bad anymore." The words were obviously hard for him, but they still came out with a fervency, hoping that Aliscia would believe him. "Not in three months. I haven't had to be beaten in three months, so please...I'm not bad. Don't make me go."

[kysseh]

The look in his eyes was not that of a young boy, for a brief moment. No, for a moment, he seemed older and more intense, more complicated. It should have bothered Aliscia, but she found it almost refreshing. She was not speaking to a child, after all, and that brief flicker of something more reassured her of that detail. Sometimes, she tended to forget that he was a fully-grown former dragonrider, especially when he behaved like a skittish, anxious little child. It was not his fault, she knew, but she could scarcely feel guilty for thinking him a child when he often acted like one. But that little glimpse of something affirmed her suspicions that, deep down, he was still an adult grieving for his mindmate. He would bear close watching. Not because she thought him a threat, of course, but because she was anxious to see if any of that intensity was real or just a figment of her tired imagination.

His reaction to her words was cautiously joyful at first and then openly so, and she gave him the most genuine smile she could manage, watching him hug her arm to his chest. Apparently, he was overjoyed at the news, which surprised her. Pregnant women were notoriously unstable, and infants were loud and obnoxious and ruined a good night's sleep. But he seemed... happy. Perhaps too happy? She was unsure at first and just kept quiet, letting him have his moment. It was over all too soon as he started to enthusiastically speak about staying with her, wanting to be with her, even with only the couch as a bed. She was still going to make some other arrangement, perhaps put in a request for a two-bedroom family weyr. The babe would require her to have more space anyway, and Faolan... he counted as family, in a loose sense of the word.

His words had her concerned, and she had to fight to keep from frowning, instead just staring down at his face. She had not even considered that he would hurt the child. He had never aggressed at her, never shown anything but kindness toward her. Sure, that one brief look told of more to him, but she had months to see his true colors before the babe was born. The petite brunette was hardly concerned with that, though, for he seemed so genuinely happy. "You've always been good, Faolan. Always. And I trust you," she told him, wishing she could stroke his hair still to soothe him, tell him how very welcome he was with her.

His next words had her absolutely floored, and her head was set to start spinning at the implications. He thought she wouldn't want him for the scars? Scars indicated a severe sort of beating, which meant noncompliance. But... he was so docile, so gentle with her that she could scarcely imagine him being anything but that. They must have broken him far more than she had originally thought, and she very carefully moved her good hand against his chest to get his attention. "Faolan... please look at me." Her nearly-gold eyes were gentled, her mouth curved upwards in a faint smile. "I'm not sending you away. I don't want to send you away, and I won't beat you. I'll need more help from you now... and I'll probably ask more of you. But... I really do want you to stay." she said softly, wishing there was something she could offer him in return.

She would think on that later, though, for she was starting to feel the need to return to her weyr for the sake of comfort. "Let's head back. I need a more comfortable chair, and I want to put some salve on your back to help with those scars," she said quietly, remembering that she had yet to use it on her face. "And it'd probably make your back hurt a little less and help those marks to fade a bit. Would you... let me do that for you?" She would not force it on him, but freely offer, she would. She wanted better for him than he had had, and this was... well, a small start but a start nonetheless. "And I need food and sleep." Her stomach growled loudly to punctuate that, and she sighed, wishing she wasn't so needy.

[reqqy]

Always been good? No. He hadn't always been good, though he couldn't argue with her directly and so held his tongue. Genuine surprise crossed his face as she told him she trusted him, though. Faolan regarded her blankly for a long moment, that strange flicker between child and man reasserting itself for a few seconds. It was becoming more frequent lately, though the broken creature always crushed it down with ruthless force of will. Most of the time she didn't see. Such a look had not been...good...in the past. Something about insolence. He didn't care to remember, because it seemed that they always found some sort of excuse. No, they weren't wrong. He was. Somehow. They couldn't be. If they said he was bad, he was bad, because...because they had the power and power ultimately controlled reality. His mind couldn't seem to grab ahold of one side or the other, dripping into each other and tainting the insolent one with the submissive, the submissive with the insolent. Or maybe they were never truly separate on any level that counted.

If Aliscia trusted him, she was either naive or...well, pretty much naive. Yet the thought itself calmed him. He could not believe she was lying; Aliscia wasn't, he was sure. Too emotionally distraught to truly be able to attempt it with any real success. The insolent one laid itself to rest with the death of Faolan's wariness. Maybe he should be beaten again, if only because it made his other self scarce. Other self? True self? More...pessimistic self? Who knew? At any rate, it was sinking back beneath the surface, the man's joy at the thought of having a little child to play with returning. It was the only thing he missed about Angry Man and Loud One. Shei was absolutely adorable.

His face did turn up to her, just as she asked of him. Always as she asked of him. He paused, transfixed by her eyes and expression, trembling slightly before he edged closer and simply placed his hand on her knee. "I can help you. Whatever you need," he responded, utmost sincerity radiating from his eyes, though one couldn't help but think he was trying to make sure she wouldn't change her mind. Her hand on his chest made him feel strange, a bit. Not bad strange, but strange. It was not like how he was used to being touched. "Whatever you want," he added, his voice softer still, almost shy. He'd do anything just to stay with her.

Blinking, he wasn't sure again, not because he didn't understand what she was saying, or even because it was a surprising turn of events - he was beginning to learn to expect Aliscia to be different than the others - but because he wasn't sure he wanted it. Her hands on him, working on him. That just felt wrong to Faolan. Other. Different. Not what should be happening. He bit his lip lightly. But, in the end, he nodded, because she seemed to want to do it, and because her fingers had been gentle on his back. Feather light, in fact. An uncomfortable pressure, at times, but not hurtful, and he didn't mind her touching him.

Listening to her stomach's protestations, his eyes flared with momentary distress. How could he have let her grown so hungry? They'd definitely spent too much time on him! Not good. Faolan didn't ask her. He stood, moving to gather her into his arms. Aliscia was light, but even if she'd been one of the larger females, or even the size of most men, he could have done so with relative ease. His slight frame hid that supple strength that nothing could wring out of him - one developed on the seas. "You're tired," he repeated to her, almost forcefully, as if daring her to argue and demand she be put back down. Cherry curled between them, content now that Faolan had calmed. The dragonless began the walk back to Aliscia's weyr, taking it much more slowly on the return than he had setting forth.

[kysseh]

He seemed honestly surprised at her admission that she trusted him, but he should not have been. Aliscia did not let strange men stay in her weyr for any length of time if she did not trust them, and she would not have let him stay past a sevenday if she thought he was a danger. No, he was not a danger, and that expression on his face had her wondering when the last time was that anyone had shown any trust or caring toward him. Well, she certainly hoped that he did not prove her wrong. She would hate to be wrong about him, and she did not want to send him away. He was growing on her in a way she had sworn she would not let people get to her anymore. Between him, Savitri, and that little brother of the goldweyrlings--his name escaped her--she was getting soft in her old age.

Shardit.

His soft voice and the honesty in his eyes had Aliscia smiling almost affectionately down at Faolan. He was going to let her help him, then, and that made her feel better. She felt terrible about him fussing all over her when she had nothing to offer him back but... some attempts at kindness. She wanted to do something more for him, what did she have that he could want?! Obviously, just a place to stay, and she was hardly about to deny him that. Her eyes gentled at the thought of how generous he was in insisting that he would do whatever she needed. Well, she would be needing quite a bit, and she wondered if he knew just how much. Hopefully, she would be less unstable this pregnancy, but.... then again, she had no weyrmate to dote on her. She just had... Faolan, whatever he was to her.

She let out a soft noise of surprise when he was suddenly distressed and then lifted her into his arms. Her surprise was evident in her expression, and she put a hand down to her stomach to make sure that Cherry had not been dislodged from her lap. Then her hand quickly moved to grasp at his neck to steady herself, and she stuttered out something resembling a protest and then fell silent. She should have said that she was too heavy, that she needed the exercise. But... she was tired, and his chest was warm. She could not resist snuggling in closer, placing her cheek a bit tiredly against the warmth of his bare skin. "Thank you," she said softly, not able to protest that he was of some assistance and that she was tired. She was quite tired... and hungry.

She reluctantly pulled her head away from his chest as they approached her weyr, wondering what to do first. She wanted to tend to his back, but her stomach insisted upon growling. If she did not get some food in her soon, she would be approaching faintness or snappish whining, and she was loathe to inflict that on her helper. Thus, Aliscia reluctantly released his neck as they approached the door to her weyr, bringing the hand down to stroke the flit curled contentedly between their bodies. She had forgotten how much she missed having one of the little creatures; it had been awhile... too long, perhaps. "You can put me down, Faolan. I don't need sleep quite yet," she said softly. And truthfully, if she stayed cuddled close to him like this for much longer, that warmth would lull her to sleep. No... she needed food first and to tend to his back.

[reqqy]

He paused for a moment, looking down at the woman quizzically at her sounds, wondering if he should put her down after all. It was something he knew to be generally accepted elsewhere. His arms and back were meant to support whatever weight she needed for him to support, including her own - though she was significantly lighter than a lot of what he'd carried over the last months. Over the last turns. But then she was moving against him, the man smiling slightly in relief. He didn't want her to get upset over this, after all. No, she didn't seem upset at all, but the affectionate squirmings were throwing him off a little, such that his strides shortened in length and weren't quite - even. Faolan simply wasn't used to more than being ignored or treated with grudging indifference. Less, certainly, but not more.

Cherry crooned, reacting to the woman's touch. Something flickered behind his eyes for a moment. His arms tightened around her ever so slightly, before he forced his eyes forward, moving along the stairs surely. He didn't respond to her thanks verbally, though he lightly squeezed her arm as he continued to climb, acknowledging the words she shouldn't have spoken. His pale blues sought out her eyes as she lifted her head, concerned again, but the woman didn't seem distressed. Then she was asking him to put her down, and he was a bit confused by what she offered up as explanation. What did sleeping have to do with being carried? Faolan complied, however, lowering her gently to her feet, an arm crossing the width of her shoulders beneath her chin until he was certain she was steady. She'd seemed so exhausted before.

Even then, his arm merely moved so that his hand could lightly rest on her shoulder, Cherry having taken up residence on the woman's head and crooning quietly. He reached past her to push open the door to her weyr and guided her inside. The young man glanced at Cherry, who chirped quietly and immediately flew upwards, popping between. Faolan glanced around the room and sighed quietly. The only chair they had was the one to her desk, and it wasn't much better than the one she'd just vacated. After a moment, he led her to his own couch, rearranging the pillows on one end and pressing her firmly down. He drew one of the furs over her, before kneeling on the other end of the couch and lifting her legs until she was lying back and he could remove her shoes, the boy placing them carefully beside the couch.

"Cherry went for food," he told her quietly. Arching his back, he peered at her, inquiring, "You're comfortable?" She wasn't lying down, just propped up against the pillows, but he couldn't always tell the difference between pain and weariness when looking at someone. The young man glanced toward the shape that was Tanith. Thus far, the green had done nothing overtly threatening, but he found himself looking toward her every once in awhile, just the same. Faolan settled back on his heels, rubbing at his face for a moment, still not fully awake. "Was there anything else you wanted?" She may not have wanted what he'd already done, but he hated seeing her looking so tired and...possibly sick. The couch was easier. He reached out to touch her foot lightly, just to be in contact with her.

[kysseh]

Aliscia was disappointed to leave his warmth, but it was necessary if she wanted to stay awake long enough to eat and tend to his back. He was very gentle in setting her down, and it took her only a half-second or so to find her balance, which had been off the last few sevendays for obvious reasons. Faolan did not seem to want to leave her uncared for, though, and she found his concern touching. Were she not sure it was largely out of simple obedience, she would have been flattered by the attentions. Now, she was just grateful. He had at least made a silent acknowledgment of her thanks, and she tilted her head up--way up, since he still had quite a bit of height on her--to give him a genuine, if weary, smile. Even if his concern had odd roots, she found it soothing, comforting.

The flitter on her head had her turning her eyes upward in an attempt to get a glimpse of green, but she quickly found out that that made it difficult to walk. Thus, she just focused on getting herself through the open door, lifting her good hand to cover Faolan's where it rested on her shoulder. He was far too kind to her, and she was going to get spoiled at this rate. She hadn't been spoiled in Turns, really, so it was a nice change from being ignored or used or... just plain alone, save for her darling, vicious beast of a mindmate. A low rumble of amusement from the green's direction told Aliscia that her dragon was awake and alert, and it made the greenrider's scarred face break into a loving smile aimed at the stirring beast.

Then she felt Cherry leave her perch, her head feeling strangely light as a result, and she was surprised to find herself being led toward the couch. She was about to protest, but Faolan seemed intent on something, and she just let him settle her down on the couch, feeling a bit guilty about taking over his bed. The guilt only worsened as he worked to make her comfortable, and a quietly contented sigh escaped her as the fur was tucked about her small body. Shards, but she was definitely getting used to this, though she squirmed a bit, ignoring the ache in her ribs, at the discovery that the couch was not quite as comfortable as she remembered. Tolerable, yes, but far from the gentle comforts of her bed. She definitely needed to find him a better bed.

"I'm fine, Faolan. Thank you," she sighed quietly, closing her eyes tiredly for a moment. Cherry was getting food? She hoped the poor flit didn't hurt herself in the effort, but the man probably knew his pet far better than Aliscia did, so why worry? His gesture of sleepiness did not escape her, and she scooted over a bit on the narrow couch. There was not a great deal of room, but he could at least sit beside her, if he wanted. Did she need or want anything? She was seated semi-comfortably and was warm and tended to, but... oh! "There's a little jar on one of the shelves in here... somewhere. It's probably the only brown one, and it's about the size of your fist. I need to take care of my face... and your back." She squirmed fully upright, groaning softly at the stress it put on her ribs. Stupid sharding... well, it would suffice to say that she would be grateful for those bones being back to normal in another few sevendays.

[reqqy]

Thanking him again. His eyes flickered, but he nodded to her just the same, not wanting her to think that he didn't hear her. It was just...not right. Although most of this wasn't right. Faolan was actually still rather tired, but he was always tired, these days. Aliscia's sleeping habits were all over the place, and he didn't like to be asleep when she woke. Especially now. More, things were just different here, and he wasn't used to the sounds just yet. The man was typically something of a light sleeper, so such things threw him off fairly easily. The fact that he'd managed to sleep through Aliscia's departure was frankly unsettling with that in mind. He must be really needing the sleep right about now.

Despite the boy's apparent distraction, he responded to Aliscia's nonverbals instantly. Joining her on the couch, Faolan tucked his legs beneath him in a clearly submissive posture. It wasn't truly meant to be that way. In all actuality, it was simply one of the most comfortable positions for him now. Familiar. He would have felt quite out of place in a sprawl. He jumped a little as she spoke again, instantly coloring. His mind had wandered? Nodding, he swiftly got to his feet, trying to mask some of his surprise but not doing a very good job of it. The former bluerider practically jumped out of his skin when Cherry skipped back into the room and plopped onto his head. Rather, divebombed it. Her landings were never very...graceful. The man wavered uncertainly in the middle of the room. He wanted his shirt. Bad enough that Aliscia and whoever else happened along had seen, but others, too?

Cherry was making a nest of his curls, though, and he didn't want to dislodge her. Too late. He moved to the door, opening it right before the drudge was about to knock, and whispered a 'thank you,' to the woman before taking the tray from her and closing the door with a certain finality. Hopefully she wouldn't be offended, but...he'd rather not have his back to Aliscia. Part of him acknowledged that it embarrassed him on more than one level - not just what it said about him, but he knew what it looked like. Beatings tore the skin apart, raising up great, roping welts, and when it healed it looked...strange. Several layers of that created something of a deformed look, as if he'd been born with something other beneath his skin and then grown a few humps in there somewhere just to even it out. Clothing concealed it nicely. He wasn't, after all, twisted or anything. But...

Faolan was swift to turn back to her, bringing the tray over, which was heaped nicely with greens and fruit. A little meat, and even less bread, which made it rather clear what he thought was most important. He smiled at her, ignoring the green nesting in his hair. Snagging the chair to her desk with his foot, he placed the tray down upon it, near her elbow, and carefully reached under her to retrieve the rumpled shirt he'd been wearing earlier. He would have gone for a clean one, but this opened up down the center, so he just slid his arms in and went in search of that jar she'd mentioned, not bothering to lace it up. It didn't take him long to find it. The young man settled beside her again, the jar held in his lap. "You should eat first," he told her firmly, because she let him. Already he was being spoiled by the woman.

His long, fine-boned hands ran over the surface of the glass, the man clearly not intending to eat with her. He sometimes did. Faolan was getting used to that peculiarity of hers. But he wasn't someone who ate often - never had been. The young man no longer went days without eating, though he might go one. His body, ironically enough given how small he was, actually had a pretty low metabolism, and he was genuinely content on what little he ate. "It's not large," he told her softly, still touching the jar. "You should save it. For you." She should. And it would mean she didn't have to look closely at his back, which he didnt really like so much. Since she didn't seem put off by it the way most of his masters had, his concern now became it was...ugly. And somehow he didn't want her staring at that part of him. Besides, he felt uncomfortable being touched there. His back had become highly sensitive.

[kysseh]

Aliscia wished she knew how to deal properly with Faolan. Obviously, he was confused by half of what she did and afraid by the other half. There was no possible way to make him understand that she did not see him as a slave, as that would probably only throw him for a loop. They must have broken him down very badly. That, or he had just been naturally unstable after his dragon-

The near-gold eyes closed for a moment as Aliscia wished that thought away. It was painful and made her wish to just hold the poor man until his hurt went away. She doubted it ever could. Even when Tanith was asleep, there was still that... closeness in the back of her mind that kept her alive, sane. She was never, ever alone, and she knew it very well. To be deprived of that... it was unfathomably painful to even think of. She smiled tiredly as he seated himself on the couch behind her, more than a bit startled when Cherry zipped back and dropped herself onto the man's head. That was.... rapid. How had she-

He was suddenly up and to the door, and Aliscia nearly jumped in surprise. Instead, she just waited patiently and watched, an involuntary sigh coming from her as she got a brief glimpse of the state of his back. It was... hideous. She felt suddenly angry at the thought of what had been done, and injuries or no injuries, if she could've sunk a knife into one of those bastard's necks, she would have. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones, but she was feeling an increase in her natural urge to protect. Faolan was now included on the short list of those who were worthy of her utmost protection, and she would fight the next person to lay a hand on him.

The tray had plenty of food, and Aliscia would have been surprised if she even made a dent in it. She started to nibble on the fruit, careful to move so that he could get to his shirt. She felt incredibly guilty for having taken over his bed. She would have moved to her own bed, or offered to, but he quickly sat down beside her after locating the sought-after jar, which spoiled her intentions. Thus, she continued eating, and some of the greens and fruit disappeared quickly enough. Shards, but she was hungry! Savitri had fussed at her for not gaining any sort of weight yet--in fact, she had lost weight since the Flight and her injuries--so perhaps this would keep the healer at bay for awhile. "Aren't you hungry too?" she inquired, gesturing at the tray. He was not exactly sporting a healthy amount of body fat either.

The movement of his hands had her momentarily distracted, and she watched him stroke the little jar. She felt an instinctual want starting in her belly, and she had to swallow and force that urge back down. Seeing his hands made her want them on her, for some reason, and she blamed the hormones for the light flush starting in her neck. Stupid... ugh! The last thing she needed right now was to want a man. Not many men were keen on being with a pregnant woman, and... well, she was not entirely thrilled with the idea of bedding any random men just to satiate her out-of-control hormones. She'd have to make do for now... and hope that it did not get worse, though if last time was any indication, it would. She squirmed. Shardit.

"It goes a long way. Besides, Savitri is always making up more for me," she replied, watching his continued fascination with the jar. It then occurred to her that he might be using that as an out, to avoid revealing his back to her. He had been quick to cover it with his shirt, so perhaps it bothered him more than he let on. She finished off her fruit and carefully wiped off her hand, watching his face with curious eyes. Then she reached out to rest a hand on his arm. "If you don't want me to touch you, Faolan, please just tell me so. I won't force you to let me."

Her eyes flicked to the nesting green atop his head, and she was momentarily distracted by the little flit's curious behavior. What was she trying to do up there, exactly? That thought randomly led into another, and she chuckled a bit tiredly. "Why did you name her Cherry, by the way?"

[reqqy]

Faolan glanced at the tray for a moment, frowning at it as he quite deliberately catalogued his body, then shook his head. He didn't want there to be any chance of a lie in his response. Even though she wouldn't be able to tell on this count, it was a part of him now...this need to only tell the truth. Anything other than that was not accepted. "We ate last night," he added, by way of explanation. Albeit neither had eaten much of anything, they had eaten together, and he rarely was hungry less than twenty-four hours after the last meal. Cherry wasn't hungry, either. She'd seemed to have flattened the part of his hair she wanted to rest in, and was now curling up to sleep. On his head. Cherry had some odd habits.

The man glanced over, stilling when he saw Aliscia's expression. Why was she staring at his hands? He glanced down at them, to see if they'd suddenly started sprouting warts or something. But no. They looked just as the always did. Even the once-broken fingers had fully healed, and where they'd been broken was no longer noticeable. Fort healers seemed to be particularly good at making sure that a slave's usefulness didn't diminish. Faolan wasn't bitter about it; he liked his hands. They allowed him to do so many useful things, and not all of them things for the people he served. Yes, hands were important. His blue eyes rose back up to the woman's face, still a little confused about why she was staring at them in that way, although something familiar stirred in his belly. His brow furrowed.

Oh, that wasn't good. Faolan wriggled uncomfortably, wishing she'd just go back to eating so he didn't have to feel...weird. The expression on her face was familiar, and when he identified it, he knew that this couldn't be, so it must be that he was making it up. One of these days - if she allowed him a night outside the weyr - he needed to find someone to relieve that. There usually was no shortage. And he'd run into this problem with mistresses before, if they weren't excessively cruel. The boy didn't have an overwhelming sex drive, but it was a need that occasionally needed to be seen to. Especially if he didn't want distractions while with someone as pretty as Aliscia. Mistresses did not like slaves showing that sort of interest. He figured it probably made them nervous, which only made sense, given how nervous he felt right now just because she was staring strangely.

Ah. Yes. And of course that would change things, too, wouldn't it? Sinking to the level of a slave...

The young man was pointedly staring at the jar to keep from pursuing that line of thought any further. It didn't help much, but...it was all he could really do without being dismissed. His grip tightened around the jar as she neutralized his argument. No excuse now. At least the thought of her looking at his back buried all the strange feelings quite effectively beneath the anxiety. Her hand on his arm had him looking at her wide-eyed. She was providing him with...a way out? Impulsively, he covered her hand and squeezed it lightly. His response was minimal, and not altogether definitive. "It's ugly," he told her, quietly. Faolan wasn't vain, but even he could be conscientious about what was essentially a deformity. "Ugly and -" He had to call on his deeper self to provide the next word, for it wasn't within the realm of simplicity he usually operated in. "Sensitive."

Blinking, the former bluerider glanced upward, as if trying to see the green flit atop his head that had so aroused Aliscia's curiosity. Of course he couldn't, but the expression itself was rather comical. He smiled slightly. "She liked it." The reply was uttered as if that were the only logical answer to her question, as if it explained everything.

[kysseh]

Aliscia merely nodded at his admission that he was not hungry. She wished he would eat more than once a day or so. It made her feel slightly guilty to be constantly hungry when he ate so very little. Slow metabolism? She hoped it was not conditioning, or she would have to try to break that. A man needed more than a handful of food a day, especially if he was active. She was tired and not entirely functional at the moment, though, so that would have to wait until later. She trusted him to not lie to her on many counts, and the fact that Cherry was comfortably asleep, even in the proximity of food, reassured her that the little flitter was not hungry either. She felt... slightly less guilty, then, but she squirmed a bit anyway. Having a slave--or just such a submissive personality--around was not something she was used to...

Shardit, he had noticed her looking, and she quickly turned her gaze away before things could get... awkward. His uncomfortably fidgeting did not go unnoticed, and she wished for a brief instant that he was still a rider... or at least not having the mentality of a submissive person. If he had not been under her care, she would have made a move on him right there. He was young, attractive... gentle. Really, what else could a woman want?! But, she could not force him into anything, and he seemed very discomfited by the idea. So, she closed her eyes and forced down that want until it was just a flare of heat that refused to go away. She would deal with it... some other time.

The squeeze on her hand caught her attention, and she smiled a bit sadly at him, using her shoulder to gesture at the scarred half of her face. "I'm no stranger to ugly, Faolan. I think my face is the least scarred part of me." Minus her breasts and much of her belly, of course, but she was avoiding things that might inspire her to be overly bold. "But if you don't want it, I won't. I just thought it might help it heal better." She let her hand rest beneath his for another moment and then wriggled it free to continue eating. She was approaching full but was not quite there yet, if only because getting ill that morning had left a gaping hole where her breakfast should have been in her system. She had felt too off to eat.

His explanation had her chuckling a bit around a mouthful of bread, and she had to finish and swallow before she could respond, her nearly-gold eyes amused, if still weary. "Good enough reason." She sighed quietly and ate in silence for another moment before she was finished, unable to eat anymore. Relaxing back into the couch, one hand instinctively sought her lower belly, the heaviness there. She was not showing and probably would not for awhile. Still... just that odd heavy feeling that she remembered from last time, coupled with the elation that she could not suppress, no matter the circumstances of the child's conception... those were enough to tell her what was happening, and she was so very happy, even if the situation could have been better.

She realized quickly enough that she had drifted into her own thoughts and was neglecting her loyal company. "Sorry. Thinking too much," she murmured softly to the dragonless man, shifting a bit in her seat to glance over at her bed. She wanted it so badly... wanted to curl in the furs and use Faolan as a warm, living, breathing pillow. But, it would have to wait, and her eyes flicked again to the jar. Time to get down to business, now.

[reqqy]

He frowned at her for a long moment, a flicker behind his eyes as Faolan leaned toward her. Ugly, she said? Scars themselves weren't ugly. They just meant...that you'd lived. They told a story. No, the reason he called his ugly was not because they were scars, but because they'd been allowed to heal by themselves, and they hadn't healed...quite right. Which could only be expected when your back had been completely torn up. Cradling the jar between his thighs, he allowed his free hand to drift upward, hovering before the scarred portion of her face. The three vertical lines lengthened it, contrasting interestingly with the softness of the other side. Her golden eyes, watching him. Faolan made as if to trace the scars with his fingers, but he pulled back at the last moment, as if remembering himself. "You're not ugly."

He'd seen ugly, and only knew it in three ways. Evil, dead eyes were the ugliest to him, and made him want to flee. The other two were aesthetically ugly, in the form of extensive - usually fatal - burns that literally melted portions of the flesh from the bones and sometimes the bones themselves, and the scars made from a whip, where the welts would rope and twist and gather seepage so they'd have to be broken back open. Most anything else didn't seem ugly to him, though it might make the man feel sad to think of what must have happened. Of how much it had to hurt. Faolan knew pain in all its forms and was sensitive to it in others.

"Not ugly at all," he repeated softly, partially because he wanted to and it was true, but mostly because he was actually thinking about what she'd said next and didn't want her to start pressing him since he was beginning to - waver. Better not to give any indication of it. Faolan was silently grateful when she went back to eating, as it allowed him to think in silence.

The man offered her response to his reason for calling the firelizard Cherry a small, absentminded smile. His eyes were again on the jar. Or, rather, they seemed to be concentrating exclusively on the jar until she leaned back, when he simply set the object aside and removed the tray, setting it on her desk. Faolan lingered there for a few extra moments - where she wouldn't be able to read his expression. Faolan still didn't like the idea of her seeing his back that close and unobstructed, nor did he like the idea of anyone touching him there, but...she'd said that maybe it would help it heal? If that was truly a possibility...It was unreasonable to believe she wouldn't see it nearly that closely, even if he was careful. The man couldn't sleep with a shirt on because of its sensitivity, and often slept on his stomach or side for the same reason. Aliscia would see it eventually - probably far more times than she'd like.

He'd only just returned to settle near her again when Aliscia apologized, Faolan casting her a questioning look. What did she have to be sorry for? There was nothing wrong with thinking. The young man watched the shifting of her gaze silently, and for once he couldn't tell what it was she wanted. That distressed him a little, though he tried not to show it. Aliscia was...so much nicer...than anyone else and he...he really wanted to...please...her. How many times had he catered to the whims of people he liked far less? It seemed - wrong - not to treat her with more courtesy and devotion than any of them. Faolan bit his lip lightly. Well, he knew one thing that she wanted...

He shrugged out of his shirt, draping it over one end of the couch, his eyes skirting the edge of her gaze timidly. Up close and shirtless, he was clearly every bit as slender as he looked, but not nearly so thin. His ribs were only suggested, not pronounced, and a fine layer of wiry muscle moved with supple grace beneath his skin. Faolan passed Aliscia the jar, holding on to it long enough to state, "It might...help heal?" His eyes didn't leave hers, the man cocking his head questioningly. He didn't know where she wanted him. The two easiest ways didn't seem appropriate, but he didn't want her to strain. Both of them sitting lengthwise on the couch with him between her legs...was almost as bad as his laying on his stomach with her on top of him.

So he merely fixed her with his questioning gaze, hoping she would have a better idea - or, at least if it were hers, she wouldn't feel uncomfortable about the situation.

[kysseh]

Faolan seemed very insistent of the fact that she was not ugly, but Aliscia had grounds to disagree on several counts. She had seen herself in a mirror for many Turns before her face had received those scars, and she knew that they completely marred the right side of her face. They did not affect her vision... or most uses of her mouth, besides opening it very wide, which she could no longer do. They just.... ruined the even lines of what had been a youthfully pretty face. She had not been considered exceptionally pretty as a youngster, but she had never been labelled as unattractive. Just... on the prettier side of average, perhaps. She had thought that ruined by the scars, and she still did. But... Faolan's insistence that she was not ugly was touching and a bit reassuring, to say the least. They were the most recent of her scars, and to have a man not view her as ugly as a result was... encouraging, even if his attitude was one of subservience. Maybe he was just flattering to get on her good side, but... she doubted it, though that could have been her ego speaking.

She wished he would have touched her, but he was already moving away to put the tray on her desk. She shifted a bit on the couch and swung her legs over the side to settle her bare feet on the cold stone floor. It tingled a bit, but it centered her enough that she could focus on the matter at hand, even tired as she was. She smiled a bit at the questioning look he gave her as he took his place beside her again. Poor man. She kept confusing him, even as hard as she tried to be good to him. Ah well. She did not intend to be difficult or confusing. It just sort of came out that way, especially where he was concerned.

Both of her eyebrows raised as he took off his shirt and set it aside, and she took a moment to look over his torso. It was... well, thinner than she would have like to see, but the rippling of the muscle had her intent for a moment. She had always liked a little muscle on her men. Not bulk--though B'rom had certainly had that--but some genuine lean muscle was always appreciated. He seemed so... shy, though. Not shy... timid. Was he afraid of what she would think? Well, she had no complaints to make, and she just watched him quietly, extending her good hand to take the jar. He would allow her to touch him, then, and it eased her concerns. She wanted to do something for him, and he would allow it... perhaps. His cautious question had her nodding, and she wondered how best to do it. The couch... well, it was going to make things awkward.

She pursed her lips and then got carefully to her feet, gesturing with her head that he follow. Careful to not trip over her own shoes, the woman padded over to her bed and settled down onto it. It wasn't huge, but it was sufficient for two people. She sat cross-legged and carefully removed and set aside her sling, set the jar in her lap, and then patted the open space of bed before her. "Can you lie down on your stomach here? This will help keep the skin from drying out and minimize the scar tissue. And the massaging keeps the scars from getting too raised," she said with the ease of one who has cared for scars for Turns. Granted, she could not reach parts of her back, but she did her best. "But if I hurt you... then tell me to stop, all right? I'll be as gentle as I can." She could scarcely imagine being anything less than gentle with him, but scars tended to be oversensitive areas that throbbed or flared at the slightest of contacts. And being one-handed....

Well, suffice it to say that she would have to be careful. She used her free hand to open the jar in her lap and then waited patiently, near-gold eyes flicking upwards to train on his form, hoping he would not be put off by the change in situations. Had he ever been on her bed before? She could not remember, so probably not. Still... she was not offering it for that reason. It was just... easier. Yes... she would go with that.

[reqqy]

A frown flickered over his face as she rose, the man first not understanding what she intended. No, he still had no idea when he obediently gained his own feet and began to follow. Faolan didn't like the exposed feeling the movement of air against his back generated, and he instictively bowed his shoulders against that crawling sensation, hunching a little. The former bluerider looked particularly frail in that stance - particularly timid, as if the slightest unanticipated motion would send him fleeing across the weyr and out the door in an instant.

He paused when he saw that she was clearly making for her bed, the frown deepening slightly. That...wasn't normal. Faolan's eyes flicked to her. It wasn't what he was used to in general, and he had been living with Aliscia long enough to know that it also wasn't a normal situation in regards to the greenrider. His toes curled against the cold stone, his arms wrapping lightly around himself, as if he were feeling the cold especially strongly at the moment. He could handle change, and, in the end, he would do as she wanted him to. Not because she was his mistress, though. The man would do it because he didn't want to distress or upset her. Yet that still didn't stop him from regarding the bed warily. It might make it easier, he supposed. It wasn't as small as the couch, and he couldn't very well ask her to do this on the floor.

His eyes flicked to her face as she began to speak, Faolan alternately regarding the empty portion of the bed she wanted him to lay on and the woman herself. Exposing himself in this manner made the former bluerider nervous. He didn't like the idea of her seeing or touching his back - in truth, the only reason he'd agreed was because she both wanted it and thought it would help. Faolan would give anything for the heavy, grotesque scarring of his back to at least be a little less pronounced. He really wished it wasn't Aliscia looking at it or touching it, though. She hadn't responded with loathing or - as one had - fear, but he couldn't help but think that was because she hadn't gotten a good look before.

"I'm sure you won't hurt me," he reassured her, deliberately voicing the words the way he did so that it committed him to doing as she asked instead of backing out. Sure enough, phrasing it in that way seemed to break him out of his frozen state, and Faolan moved forward, glancing at Aliscia one last time before he knelt on the bed before going to his stomach, trying not to think of how long it had been since he'd felt the - softness - of an actual mattress. Now he'd be secretly yearning for it for awhile. Oh well. There were many things he secretly yearned for in the quiet of his thoughts, most of which he never, ever gave into.

Some things just couldn't be entertained.

The dragonless man was clearly tense, despite his position, and he turned his head to regard Aliscia as best as he was able, hoping to catch her expression so he'd have some idea of what she was thinking. "Ugly," he repeated, at a near-whisper, and it was unclear whether he meant it for Aliscia or was simply repeating it to himself. Perhaps it was just a way to try to relax himself enough to keep him from bolting.