Hibernation (Avu)

[Kisha-Ra]

The cold cut in everywhere, shoving cold fingers down Darya’s neck, or freezing her toes, or making sure her fingers were stiff, every time she moved. The bluerider’s solution to this, because southern born and bred as she was she hated the bitter winters of the north, was to move all the furnishings in her weyr closer to the fireplace. Today, despite a fire in the grate, and the fact that she was doing her leatherwork sat on a rug the was practically in the fireplace, Darya had added wool gloves with the fingertips cut off to her attire to try and keep her fingers from freezing and a selection of warm blankets were strewn over the sofa and chairs, waiting for her to curl up in some of them. All in all it made her feel old as well as cold, and that in turn made her angry, which meant the stitching on Azrath’s straps was jammed through the leather with a single minded ferociousness that meant the work was being done rapidly at least, and Darya’s tugs on the leather to make sure it was secure bordered on savage.

It had to be said that Darya’s mood was not much improved by Azrath, who was basking out in what weak sun the northern winter could produce. Whenever the blue was questioned on the temperature he simply observed Between is colder.[/color] Something that never failed to annoy Darya. Darya’s pets were at least in agreement with her. Her razorclaw was perched on a stump section that had been moved over to the warmest zone just as soon as he started trying to perch on the back of the armshairs and wouldn’t be moved away until spring emerged; currently Vrae hunted with utter savagery and spent the rest of the time in the weyr. Even the smaller dragon kin that looked to Darya didn’t share Azrath’s indifference to the weather, the tiny green salamandyr Sweetling was visible only as a nose poking out of Darya’s shirt collar, the firelizard Bit was drowsing on the mantle, and Imp, Sweetling’s bronze sire, was scampering over Darya’s crossed legs and into her work trying to get her to pay attention to him without speaking.

So Far Imp’s efforts had nearly got him squashed several times but the bronze didn’t see that as any reason to stop what he was doing, in fact this time he was going to… HEY! STOP THAT! Imp scuttled away from the desending needle that had nearly struck him and hopped up on to Darya’s needle wielding hand, rousing the other creatures in the weyr with his mental shout. Vrae instantly closed his eyes again, he wasn’t allowed to eat Imp, so had no interest in him, Bit took off and fluttered around the room, bombarding both Darya and Imp with fuzzy images, and Sweetling stuck her head further out. Why do? She inquired, rather confused.

Darya simply sighed, picked up imp with her left hand and put him to one side before placing her work aside for now, she’d never be able to concentrated on it with all this fuss going on. As the bronze salamandyr climbed back into her lap Darya rubbed her scarred left hand with the right one and looked at him. ‘Sweetling has a good point. Why did you do that?’ Babies should be seen, not heard. I hears this from older, old is always wise. Darya shook her head over the salamandyr’s irrelevant reply and shuffled around until she could hang a kettle over the fire without setting her gloves alight. Now what?

[Avu]

Don’t you know better than to put papers near the fire?

“Don’t you know better than to talk to me when I’m busy trying to become Pern’s first human icicle ever to be Weyrleader?” Ce’thian muttered at Aether, who flicked his tail in mute disapproval from his undoubtedly warm position curled in Ce’thian’s bed. “And they’re not even singed that bad, nobody will notice. What’re they going to do, frame it? Why do people have to fall in love anyway. Reassigning rooms is the most boring thing in the history of forever. They could just move in. Minus the paperwork. Waiting period would be immediately reduced to zero.”

Oh Minething…so very bitter your heart, Sparath drawled. Ce’thian had long accepted that Sparath was psychologically incapable of not making a comment when faced with anything at all, and rolled his eyes expressively for Alias’s benefit (since Aether obviously Did Not Care). You say it like you don’t have your very own blue to Rise for you, /I/ don’t even have that, the parallelism is lost and it’s so truly distressing. The things I put up with for your lover blue, Minething, really. At least butterfly’s promised to get on it, lover blue won’t even /try/.

“You’re disturbing,” Ce’thian said distractedly, squinting at some greenrider’s microscopic writing. “I didn’t know we had a greenrider named—what? How do you pronounce this? Vaufhghhhfgh?”

Very classy, Minething. On the ‘ledge, Sparath turned, tilted his head thoughtfully, and said, You know what—if you’re bound and determined to rot in front of the fire listening to the worm spit sagacious advice at you, then you don’t need little old me, do you, Minething? I think lover blue will be much more happy with my company. Enjoy, Minething, don’t go blind staring, it’d be an awful bore trying to train you again minus sight.

“What,” Ce’thian said, blankly, just as Sparath flared his wings and then took off, spinning in a lazy circle around to Azrath’s weyrledge. Which already had an occupant, not that that stopped Sparath from dropping in without so much as a by-your-leave, purring, Lover blue dearest…miss me? You know how my heart bleeds for you in your absence…Minething is being a bore, anyway, and you’re not boring, how’s the humanthing and company?

Ce’thian, meanwhile, looked at the paper, and then at the empty weyrledge, and finally at Aether, who pinned him with a thoroughly unimpressed look. Alias thumped his tail rhythmically against the sheets, and Ce’thian finally set down his papers, uncurling long legs from the chair, and drawled a sarcastic, “Don’t wait up for me,” as he left the weyr, because come on, if people wanted to move in with their lovers that bad, they could damn well do it without his explicit permission so what was the hurry. Answer: There was none and it was cold and dull and drab outside, so he was taking an impromptu break.

By which he meant he let himself into Darya’s weyr, announcing himself with, “The most exciting thing that’s happened today so far is setting paperwork on fire, and that was an accident. Please one-up the burning paper. It sounds awful even in retrospect. Hi, by the way. I’m stealing your bed, there’s a dog on mine.” Which, predictably, preceded an elegant faceplant across the bed in question. Yeah, he’d pretty much given up on anything remotely resembling dignity around Darya, so what.

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[Kisha-Ra]

A large shadow drifted over his hide a time or two, and Azrath’s response to this was to open one eye for long enough to identify Sparath, and then do nothing, if Sparath wanted sun he could just use his own ledge. Not that a little thing like a lack of acknowledgement was going to stop Sparath from landing and chattering. Possibly not even a meteor strike would do that.

Lifting his head to bat his eyelids at the bronze (a rather ridiculous action given the multiple lids) Azrath slapped Sparath’s flank lightly with the tip of his tail. Oh Sparath my sweet, I have yearned for a huge bronze to come and take up my heart and half my ledge.[/color] The blue responded with good cheer and ironic touch that came from nearly three decades in the company of a very sarcastic human.

Darya is cold, and therefore sat so close to the fire she’d be in it if she was any nearer. I tell her she should go down to the great hall, eat something that will put meat on her bones but nooo. The bird is miserable, and Imp is stirring up the greens, no doubt there shall be mischief later. Azrath heaved a gigantically put upon sigh for the behaviour of the rest of his weyr’s occupants and took on as much of a tragic expression as he could. I do hope spring comes early this year, before they drive your poor blue insane…[/color]

Darya had become so used to Ce’thian letting himself into her weyr that she didn’t even turn away from the flames when he started talking. The comment about burned paper did cause her to push her leatherwork away from the fireplace though. ‘When I had paperwork to deal with I’d happily have burned it all and danced in the ashes.’ Darya commented, Burimyu’s council hadn’t been too bad for paperwork but her short tenure as a weyrlingmaster had threatened to drive her mad with it. ‘My usual theory was to leave it until someone was yelling, then I’d at least get some help with it.’ She added cheerfully as she shuffled sideway to grab a mug that was lying around without standing up.

‘Do take the bed.’ She added, peering at the mess in the bottom of the mug and trying to decide what it had been and how old it was. ‘It’s warmer over here though.’ She added since the bed was not that close to the fireplace, Darya was too worried about unauthorised fire at the moment to move it closer. ‘I’ve put a lot of effort into having one warm space in this horrible northern winter. Klah?’ Darya finally discarded the mug she’d retrieved as too dirty for use and got up to fetch another, which she waved at Ce’thian to add emphasis to her inquiry. Imp, left behind on the rug, scurried over to see if he could collect scritches from the bronzerider by climbing onto the bed and shoving his muzzle in Ce’thian’s ear. Hi Ce’th! Come to play with fire? he added just to make sure he wasn’t ignored.

[Avu]

Well I take great pride in my ability to be bronze and take up space, you know, Sparath said, absolutely deadpan as he obligingly sprawled out over as much of the ‘ledge as he could manage without actually essentially shoving Azrath over. I hear body fat does wonders for keeping warm, perhaps you should feed Yours until she’s warm. Anyway, we’ll soon embark on an adventure, you and I; we can vanquish the winter before you die. Minething will miss us dreadfully, I’m sure, and his ‘voice’ was nothing short of completely condescending, But I suppose it’s time for him to face the music. Cold cruel world and all, isn’t it, lover blue?

Making sense: Clearly overrated.

Sparath finished on a cheerful rumble, fluffed out his wings like a molting bird, and plopped his muzzle on his forepaws, circling his tail around his haunches. At least there are fewer things spawning in the winter than spring.

“Mmphfg,” Ce’thian answered eloquently. Hopefully his tone would indicate agreement, since there was nothing remotely resembling actual words emerging until he lifted his head to plant his chin on the covers instead, addressing the far wall, “I despair to think of who would help me with paperwork.” Not that he had anything but respect for some of the bronzeriders, but he was pretty sure that nobody he had respect for would willingly help with paperwork—he had this standard where he made a point of not looking up to masochists, since it would invariably lead to bad, bad things. Probably.

“Please,” he agreed, at Darya’s offer of klah, and managed not to outright twitch at Imp’s muzzle being shoved into his ear. “Hi, Imp. Aether’s told me copious times that I’m not supposed to play with fire, so I’m going to refrain.” Wise advice of a grumpy blue Salamandyr aside, Ce’thian reluctantly peeled one hand off of the bed to pet Imp, turning his head sideways so he could actually see Imp without going dramatically cross-eyed. “If you’re cold, we should go to the hot springs,” he added, for Darya’s benefit. “There’s always the risk of freezing on the way there, but if you turn into an icicle, I’ll melt you once we get there. You probably won’t die, but I make no promises.”

Yeah, Ce’thian was nothing if not totally trustworthy and very reassuring.

Call it a talent.

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[Kisha-Ra]

As well since those are prime among your abilities.[/color] Azrath grumbled, though he didn’t bother to move, irritating though he could be Azrath was sure Sparath wouldn’t actually shove him off just to get a point across. Or at least it hadn’t happened so far. Before I die? Have I received some death threats or dire prediction I haven’t heard about? If I’m due to die there hardly seems a point in questing after winter’s end since Darya will likely die with me.[/color] Azrath made such a morbid comment in the remarkably relaxed tone if someone who is sure they aren’t marked for death.

Darya shrugged. ‘Whoever needs it. Probably the person who wrote it out in the first place.’ She replied as if that was blindingly clear, which it was, that was the whole point of paperwork after all. Well that and passing the buck.

While Darya fiddled around preparing drinks Imp purred happily and slowly lifted his frill so Ce’thian could rub underneath it. Good lad. The little beast crooned, pleased that someone was paying him his due. Are you certain? Dar like fire very much. Fire was good, wasn’t it? Darya welcomed it, fed it, and settled it down to sleep when she was going to be gone, why would Aether advise any other course of action?

Darya snorted and shuddered dramatically, though not so dramatically as to rattle the mugs she was carrying, at the very thought of going anyway. ‘Oh sure the water will be hot but the air will be horrifically cold, just like the air we have here in fact. There’s snow on the ground up there.’ The disgust in Darya’s tone as she placed the mugs down by the bed made her opinion on snow abundantly clear. ‘Can’t you see I’m looking to get the position of Weyr hermit? I’m going to remain in this room until I become warm, cold resistant, or a mushroom.’ Darya sat down on the edge of her bed and was promptly landed on by Vrae, who’d decided he ought to keep an eye on this male in his territory, even if it meant leaving the fire. The Razorclaw was a little miffed when Darya’s response was to bury her fingers in his breast feathers and continue talking to Ce’thian. ‘I don’t know how you can even think of going outside in this.’ The bluerider said quite firmly.

[Avu]

Sparath lifted his head all of five centimeters to pin Azrath with a mock-indignant stare. Oh lover blue, I’m so terribly offended you know…you haven’t noticed my other talents? Well… he flicked his tail at Azrath, I’ll have you know they include the ability to keep dragons alive indefinitely…but, more’s the pity, they’ve got to Rise, you know. So I suppose if you’d like to live the winter you ought to get on that, I can only wait so long for you, lover blue. A coquettish flutter of his wings, since Sparath had definitely already tried eyelashes and found that it just did not work without actual eyelashes. Anyway, compared to me you’re soooo old, lover. Don’t you want to live forever with me?

“I always knew Darya was secretly a pyromaniac,” Ce’thian replied seriously, nodding to himself, his brow furrowing in concentration as he obediently rubbed under Imp’s frill. “This is totally not a surprise at all.” Still, he twisted enough to flash a lopsided grin at the bluerider, rolling onto his side to accommodate her without breaking contact with Imp. Her words widened Ce’thian’s amused smile, and he hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the mugs and debating the energy required to get all the way over to them versus the reward of actually getting there. “Pyromaniac mushroom. That’s adorably disturbing.”

Because, obviously, the first adjective people associated with Darya was always adorable.

Ce’thian squinted at her for a moment, trying to decide if she was serious, and then cupped one hand to scoop Imp up out of the way for the totally inelegant squirming and flopping that followed until he could wrap one hand around one of the cups of klah, slightly rumpled from his efforts. “I am one with nature,” he deadpanned, reluctantly slanting his body into a vaguely upright position so that he could actually sip form the cup without spilling it down his front like a particularly stupid toddler or something. “I spent a brief stint as an icicle as a child.”

He settled the cup back beside the bed, absently reaching over to nudge Darya. “Have you actually just been sitting here all day? That’s terrible. I think it’s probably my civic duty to fix that. Tell me,” he scrunched his eyebrows together and pursed his lips in mock solemnity, “What do you like to do when you aren’t playing with fire, Darya?”

[Kisha-Ra]

Azrath blinked innocently. Why yes I have noted your fantastic ability to chatter pointless, your immense capacity to play the fool, and a few others, but the two I mentioned before are foremost among your skills[/color] The blue was determined to give as good as he got from his metallic companion but Sparath wasn’t as easily stumped as Darya and Azrath would be forced to admit he shared some of her failings when it came to repartee. It’s a kind offer I’m sure but I feel like I can last the winter out without you.[/color] At sparath’s next comment the blue snorted and lifted his head feigning shock, though naturally his eyes betrayed him be remaining steadfastly blue green . By the first egg no![/color] He exclaimed in mock horror. I would never get any space to myself in the whole of forever.[/color]

Hmmm was Imp’s only reply as he twisted his body around and leaned in Ce’thian’s hand, the bronzerider could say anything he liked while he was doing that.

Darya spared a sniff of derision for Imp and Ce’thian both, because really you’d think they wait until she wasn’t there to talk about her. With that she wriggled herself around until she was sat leaning against the pillows in half reclining position and continued to pet her increasingly grumpy bird for a moment. Eventually though, Darya let Vrae escape back to his perch simply because Ce’thian’s squiggling all over the place to get hold of a mug distracted her. ‘You one with nature.’ She repeated sceptically. ‘What type of nature would that be? Because just a moment ago you looked like a tunnelsnake.’

‘Noooo, I’ve been sitting over there all day.’ Darya turned a perfectly serious and earnest expression on Ce’thian and indicated the spot before the fire. ‘I told you, It’s warmer over there, and I’ve been doing some leatherwork thank you, not just lazing. Plus, isn’t your “civic” duty to get on with your paperwork?’ Darya shoved air quotations around the word civic with her fingers and spat it out like it tasted foul besides, she always felt that words such as civic were used exclusively by people who were trying to out one over on you.

‘Was I supposed to be doing something else?’ Darya allowed her brow to wrinkle in perplexity. ‘It seems to me that playing with fire was my only duty today.’ Darya claimed her own drink from its resting place and looked into it as if there might be wisdom therein. ‘Seriously, it’s winter, I don’t do much that takes me away from the fire, I’ll probably be horribly out of condition by the time spring rolls around. Also I’m almost out of things to do in here. Can you believe I’ve finished all my mending? I always thought it’d stay in the basket forever, or at least until I got sick of looking at it. So unless you’re about to suggest something to do with a roaring fire, a warm bed, or hiding out in the south until the weather’s finished being awful, I’m not helping you come up with something.’ Darya sniffed and crossed her free arm over her chest, which didn’t have quite the same effect as a pair of folded arms. ‘Come on, come up with something non torturing.’ She mocked and sipped her klah.

[Avu]

But playing the fool is so veeeerrrry different from being, isn’t it, Sparath purred, dipping his head towards Azrath in a totally unnecessary show of exaggerated confidentiality, since he wasn’t exactly broadcasting. Should tell that to /some/ shinies, poke some holes in their egos, at least I wear mine well. Oh yes, the very definition of ‘modest’ was Sparath, but of course it didn’t matter to him as he rolled lazily onto his side with an audible fwump of wings and hide, making a point of flopping one wing over Azrath’s flanks, a coy flick of his tail asking, You’d be so lonely without me lover, you may as well admit you’re lost without me, it’s okay. Lots of dragons are, it’s a common malady, I’ve been told.

“Hiss,” Ce’thian replied, deadpan, as he raised an eyebrow, and dismissed it and the idea of paperwork with a wave of his hand, “Technically it’s the civic duty of the paperwork to get done, but that doesn’t have to coincide with me.” And besides, the challenge of thinking of something that was not localized inside of Darya’s weyr that was remotely acceptable for all involved parties had him more or less distracted. After all, he had to make sure she was in shape by the end of winter, see? Good Weyrleader, taking an interest in the well-being of his…uh, ‘minions’ was probably not an appropriate term here, but at least he hadn’t said it out loud.

Darya probably would’ve either found being referred to as a ‘minion’ very amusing or very sarcasm-worthy.

Or, you know, both.

Ce’thian stroked his fingers down Imp’s spine again lightly—was it bad that he liked Imp more than he did Aether? Because at least Imp wasn’t perpetually condescending—and then tilted his head owlishly at Darya. “South is an option. Let’s go South. Temporarily, I can’t exactly commute every day just for kicks, but. It’s early,” sort of, in the sense that the sun wouldn’t go down soon in the South but was probably just about to die dramatically in the North because winter. “We could go and be back before the paperwork’s due and I get yelled at via Sparath.”

He waved a hand at the vaguely blue strand of sky he could make out from his sprawled position over the lumps of dragon on the ‘ledge.

“Pick a Hold, any Hold,” he went on easily. “Or the Weyr. Not much choice involved there, although I suppose it’d work too.”

Like Ce’thian didn’t make a point of swinging by Selenitas every once in a while on his own—it was just easier to maintain diplomacy when he dropped by than if he didn’t, and anyway, he needed to ply Elysia with strange new chocolate on a regular basis or else he’d never know what kind was good to eat. (He plied Elias with chocolate too, but he operated under the continued impression that all children thought all chocolate was good, so he couldn’t exactly count on his taste.)

But, that said—new places, and all that.

A Hold could be, you know, interesting.

In that it was probably excruciatingly boring.

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