Fort Weyr - Steeped in Tradition Weyr
As a goldrider's weyr, this ledge might be considered predictable, but it is the history that makes it something special, for this is the weyr in which Moreta lived. A wide wallow is plenty large enough for a queen to rest, and have a view of the weyr spread out before her watchful gaze. The interior is lavish and large, walls and floors perfectly smooth and glossy with age and use.
The tall, dark wood cabinet stands easily eight feet tall, and seven feet wide. Hand carved images of the Fortian mountains and woods make it a priceless and ageless piece, well cared for and meticulously oiled, even when the weyr was empty. It no doubt holds many secrets, but those will have to be gently pried from its many cabinets and drawers, secret compartments and whispered history among the drudges. Beside it is a large hearth with a wooden mantle, worn smooth by time and all the hands that have rested there and touched it. Hanging above the hearth is a sketch of Fort Weyr, seen from the skies. The parchment is old and curled at the edges, but the heavy wooden frame and precious pane of glass have kept it safe all these turns. There is a signature and date in the corner, but they're too faded to read properly.
In the back there are three different rooms. One is a large bedroom with an adjoining bathroom, complete with its own bath and closet. The walls are also smoothed and rounded, so good luck getting anything to fit flush against the wall. The bathroom is spacious, with a rather large stone tub, perfect for soaking in after a long day of meetings. Another is a smaller second bedroom with an attached closet and a little hearth, and the third is clearly meant to be an office, if the shelves carved into the wall are any indication.

It's a weird time to wake up, the middle of the night when most people are ostensibly supposed to be sleeping, but in this particular context there are probably quite a number of people across Fort Weyr doing the same thing. Inri tends to be a long sleeper after flights, because Kouzevelth's acrobatics are incredibly muscle-wearying; sorry, D'ani, if you've been impatiently waiting for her to get around to seeming human. At least her hair was up, so it's not tousled all in her face, and she has not managed to twist herself off the bed and onto the floor. The other good point: the fact that the bedroom door had been open, because Inri's front room does not have anywhere comfortable to sit. When she finally stirs it's slow at first, making murmured noises and trying to hide her eyes from light before opening one eye and wrinkling her nose. "What," she mumbles, and that's all she has to say about … everything, so far.

Impatient nothing. D'ani's been hoping Inri would sleep for hours yet (even if he woke up before she did). Did he ever crash for awhile too - after tumbling Inri into her bed and joining her there for the human culmination of Kouzevelth's mating with Kainaesyth. Influenced by those two - and with the competitive Dremkoth's disappointment over his loss roiling in his mind, he'd had no presence of mind to leave. Oh, that open bedroom door was the first thing D'ani's brown eyes sought when they flew open, even with his arms entwined possessively around Inri. He vaguely knew another should have been here - in his stead, not with them. Please Ha'ze. Pleaaase do not have showed up somewhere in the heated confusion and be… yeahno. That'd be just too awkward to face. The bed hastily scanned, a long breath of relief, let out, he'd slowly extricated himself from the tangle of soft body, left a gentle kiss on Inri's temple and donned his jeans before wandering out through that bedroom door, seeking something strongly alcoholic and gulped down enough to numb the guilt. He's returned, with a bottle (not that he needs more, mind, because he's drunk, but he wants more) and is sitting propped against Inri's headboard. He's not run away like a coward. No, he's staying to face the music and has some explaining to do (or he thinks he does). So that "What-" of Inri's. It could end in any number of ways, but he assumes it's "-are you doing here?" And so he says promptly, "Watching you sleep." And then drunkenly adds, "You're beautiful when you sleep, you know that?" And because he shouldn't be here, a thought that yet brings a heavy frown, "I'm sorry, Inri."

Some of Inri's alcohol was actually still out and easily findable, though it was all craft wine — still in a crate, because that had been what poor Z'len was delivering and no one had actually gotten the chance to deal with it yet — and not the strongest option. That at least was predictably where normally kept, and the cabinet had the key in the door. "Hmm?" Inri blinks a couple of times, curling up in blanket not because of any sort of shame but because her shoulders are cold, and hesitates, trying to catch her brain up with what she's temporarily lagged on. "No, don't be. It's not your fault," the ceiling gets a dirty look, because Kouzevelth and Kainaesyth on the ledge haven't done anything to offend her, and D'ani hasn't either, and no, Ha'ze isn't actually on the ceiling. "You're lucky I don't mind you watching me sleep." It's a sleepy smile, but a genuine one that … probably only looks a little less drunk than he is, but she's sleep-wasted.

Yeah, D'ani bypassed the carton of wine and searched for private liquors. Because he had no idea whether that crate is destined for somewhere…else. Vitners, a mysterious and unknown entity who might deal with all sorts of establishments and bars hither and yon. So he hasn't disturbed that. His gaze follows Inri's to the ceiling as if Ha'ze might be Spiderman-sticking by toes and fingers up there (and how creepy would that be? ) "When I find the irresponisble…!" D'ani, normally mild-mannered, leaves it hang ominously, though the implication is that it will not bode well for the other bronzerider when he does. His eyes fall from ceiling to bed and he regards Inri for a moment. The words "don't mind" are vastly different than "welcome" and they tumble together in his mind, a decision made as one hand is clumsily offered to help tuck that blanket in around her shoulders. The candor with which he clarifies has been kept locked behind firm lips until now. Now it is free, thanks to that whiskey and his fingers brush her cheek as he pulls his hand back, explaining gently, "I'm sorry I'm here at Kouzevelth's behest and not yours."

"She's trying to find out where he is, I think," Inri says of Ha'ze, who undoubtedly will be found at some point. Possibly by D'ani and Dremkoth, or by Inri herself, or by an angry mob. Maybe that's where he is already — trapped by an angry mob? "Though I'm not … asking, right now, I don't like to interrupt her naps, either." She's nestling her head against that hand as she's talking, though, and smiling in a way that's slowly gaining sobriety. But it is doing so at all, which means she has the cognitive one-up right now. "If you wanted to share my bed at my invitation, it wasn't ever not there," she points out, because maybe she did actually have to explicitly say that? "I just figured that you — outside of flights — weren't —" She bites her lip, not out of nervousness but consternation at trying to find vocabulary. "You'd rather not periodically sleep with someone you weren't weyrmated to, and that's certainly not for me to bring up, except for how I just did, but let's pretend I didn't." He's intoxicated, she's tired, that is totally doable, and is also apparently the major remainder of her Holdbred sensibilities: women don't propose. The end.

An angry mob with pitchforks and torches gunning for Ha'ze might be safer at this point? Perhaps even more desirable than the Weyrleader, the Weyrsecond and a Junior Weyrwoman seeking him. "No, please don't wake her. Kainaesyth didn't seem concerned, so he's probably fine." Hah! Little does he know! Ha'ze is dismissed from his thoughts by Inri's reply and his hand reluctantly leaves her cheek to swipe a hand over his face and grimace into his palm where he mumbles a frustrated (at himself, not her), "That came out so wrong, damn the whiskey for a tongue tangler. I meant I don't know how you feel about me other than fond. We've always been good friends but I-" His hand rakes through his hair and yeah that whiskey is gonna make sure the entire truth is out, the words tumble roughly from his lips, "I have loved you for a long time. I want you not just your bed. Your affection, your babies…" Shut up, D'ani. More whiskey, that's what he needs. And so he stops more confessions with a gulp, then somberly offers the bottle to her (because surely she needs it after hearing that?) with another muttered apology.

Inri loves drunk people. Because Inri loves it when people just talk — especially considering that's what she does — and it's even better when they have no filters and just blurt things out. That may have been part of her decision to become a bartender in the first place, considering she grew up in a tavern and even got to see some of that delightful tendency as a child. "If you're having babies I think you have bigger problems than not being able to be eloquent when drunk, though you're actually doing very well," she says encouragingly, and tries to nestle up against his side once she's stolen the bottle, taken a single swig, and handed it back. She might be enjoying this too much to want to forget it. "And my bed is not on offer, I like it and would hate to have to give it to someone, but the rest of me is."

Whereas D'ani would be (and probably has) eyeing them askance and saying, "You're making absolutely no sense dude." And suggesting mildly, though undiplomatically because he's had a few rounds, "More drinking, less talking." Note: Inri makes little sense to him but he doesn't say that to her now, regardless that his befuddled mind is confused by her comment. Instead, "Wh-at?" He blinks owlishly down at her - he approves of the snuggling by the way - and promptly disposes of that half-empty bottle by placing it absently on the nightstand (or floor is she doesn't have one of those) so he might curl an arm about her and encourage that. One forefinger aims to lightly tap her nose, but it's more clumsy than he thinks (lucky he doesn't poke her eye out or errantly get a nostril in his impaired state) "I want your babies to be my babies." He's looking both less somber and less sober, but her teasing is met with absolute seriousness despite the half-smile forming. "So…would you mind awfully being my weyrmate instead of my girlfriend?" Because he's also holdbred and… he's making a wreck out of this proposal, isn't he?

Inri actually has two nightstands, one on each side! So there was one readily convenient. The nose-wrinkle D'ani gets in return is at least fairly standard Inri making faces at people fare, especially when you've just clumsily poked her face, and not something more judgmental. "Noo-o," she says, catching the nose-poking hand in hers, "but you probably should repeat the question sober, because right now I may or may not actually believe you. I mean, I do, but you might forget." This is just common sense. Drunk people forget things. She pointedly isn't expecting him to regret it, and therefore doesn't say anything about that. Ego? What ego? "Proposing drunk isn't usually a wise action, even if it is enjoyable enough for me. Actually, doing just about anything serious drunk usually goes badly for one reason or another. Don't go to foreign Weyrs' hatchings drunk, either." Not that he would do that. Just that she did.

D'ani is indignant, as only a drunk can be. To wit: he snorts injured pride at her. Yeah, not his most polite at the moment. "I won't forget! I-" For a moment his fingers curl around the ones holding his hand before he tugs away. It's a gentle enough movement that isn't so much getting free of her as getting to somewhere else (evidenced by his arm remaining curled about her shoulders). That somewhere would be his pocket. He manages awkwardly (gotta love jeans pockets) and pulls out a box. "-'ve had this for awhile but in the last five days, but it didn't seem like the best time to ask." Aaaaaand now that she's no longer proddy he's inebriated, go figure. So of course this is the perfect time to pop the question! The button to that box is pressed open as he offers it to her. Inside is a ring nestled in blue satin, a white gold band with pave diamonds inset in filigree and a single, clear grey-blue stone cut to sparkle. It's simple, but elegant. And though his brown eyes are on hers expectantly, of course he asks (because that's how he read her last comment, that she went elseWeyr), "You went Between drunk?" Foreign Weyrs be damned! His slight frown says he's more worried about her safety than diplomacy gone awry.

If he expects an answer to that question — well, he is going to get one, but there's going to be a little bit of a delay with how Inri is distracted staring at the ring (with bright eyes, looking delighted, so there's that for D'ani to process while he waits for actual words!) and then working through his addled mental state and her recovering one. "Well, if you were going to anyway, I guess if you can't remember I can just tell you I said yes," she eventually says, agreeably enough, though she's quietly hoping that Dremkoth is paying enough attention that any lost-to-alcohol memories might get replaced. It would be awkward to have to tell the kids later, well, how did you get together? Oh, no one remembers, we were exhausted and drunk. "Or be wearing the ring which makes it kind of obvious — can you put it on me, or are you going to fumble it? Also, because you probably still wanted that answered — no, I was just already there drinking and then a hatching happened and we waited until I wasn't drunk anymore to come back. Kouzevelth has common sense." Inri might've tried otherwise.

D'ani's got enough senses to grin crookedly at Inri's humorous answer (either that or he's lacking them enough to see it as funny). And with drunken overconfidence, "Of course I can put it on your finger! (or break her finger, is there really a difference at the moment?)" For this he'll have to release her shoulders and does so without knocking her upside the head, go him! He is a little unsteady as he holds her left hand and removes the ring, overly careful in his attempt to thread it on her third finger and hopefully (she may have to semi-assist at this point) gets in in place without major mishap. He has already forgotten having asked her about *Betweening* drunk and absently grunts, "Thank Faranth for Kouzevelth!" As for Dremkoth, not only is he listening in with semi-grumpy attention (still frustrated he's lost, though he'll forget that soon enough), he's also sending an apologetic shoulder mental tap-tap-tap to both Kouzevelth and Kainaesyth. « Your riders are being summoned to an emergency meeting. Ha'ze is required. Where might we find him? » It's before dawn, Inri's naked, and just said yes. Aaaand they're going to spend the next while not doing what he'd prefer. D'ani swears aloud (okay, the name Nyalle might actually be in there too). "Now?" The affirmative, emphasized with passed along imperative, comes wordlessly from Dremkoth to all dragons involved.

Dremkoth and Kainaesyth sense that Kouzevelth was appreciating the whole sleeping on her ledge thing, but if there's going to be an interruption at least it's a reasonable one. « I hope he still lives, » is an entirely NOT reasonable sleepydragon interruption. Isn't it something like three in the morning or some other time humans don't like to do things? The idea that Ha'ze might be in trouble for not showing up for her own flight is one that does not occur to her.

Warmth tickles across Dremkoth and Kouzevelth as Kainaesyth awakens from his sleep. The urgency is accepted from Dremkoth, and Kouzevelth is wrapped in a cocoon of sage and lavender. « He is not able to come. He lingers behind metal which keeps him from freedom. He waits for his release. » He's in jail guys. Jail.

A better person wouldn't have sex with a drunk man anyway, even if he had just proposed to her, but Inri isn't exactly a better person? That, or she feels comfortable assuming consent in a relationship. It's probably both. It takes only a slight bit of finagling to get that ring nicely situated, and now Inri has some very subtle, quiet bling that doesn't call attention to itself but isn't about to be forgotten settled semi-permanently on her hand. "Unfortunately I don't have one for you, but I'll grab Thys and make sure she gets started o—" never mind talking about jewelry. That can, actually, wait. She wasn't about to go find Thys in the pre-dawn hours without clothes on either. "… I guess you need to sober up. Want the bath?" Run it cold, dunk his head. That'll make D'ani able to between, right?

Kouzevelth is content to linger on her ledge, enjoying those scents and yet not rejecting Dremkoth's intrusions — he is her favored sibling, after all, even when not her favored mate — but Kainaesyth's explanation gives her pause. She may be lazing idly and celebrating the part of pregnancy that involves attention without being egg-heavy, but she is still one of Fort's queens and has to be responsible; she issues a quick zing of lightning that doesn't hit anyone so much as bounce across the backdrop and, « He will receive it, then. » Kouzevelth-speak for "our riders will just have to take care of that then, and you're going to remember to show us the way, right?"

D'ani's drunk, so, "Thys is a beastcrafter?" Not that he objects, but it's likely he's unaware of her other skills. Though she has plenty of access to bone and she's a female, so why wouldn't she be able to craft something? That's current D'ani-logic for you. He frowns heavily at the news from Kainaesyth. "Where?" he asks sharply and yes, that's meant for Dremkoth to ask Kouzevelth to pry from Ha'ze's lifemate. He rises unsteadily, shakes his head about the bath and instantly regrets it. Ooh, wrong move! "I've already got a headache, thanks." And cold water will make it worse. "I'll ride with you." He is going to have to do-over at least the romantic part of this evening, for he hasn't expressed warmth over the arrangement they've made and he meant to, really he did. "I'll be… out there…" Pacing and swearing no doubt, while waiting for her to get dressed. Oh and that whiskey? Goes with him because… "If Nyalle's expecting me to drink tea, she can forget it." Growl.

A pause, the connection to Kainaesyth breaking for a moment, as the bronze directs his attention outwards and away from the gold who sees his attention. « Ha'ze does not object to the assistance, though he asks if you will please leave knots behind. » Please don't rescue him as goldrider and weyrsecond please? Because of COURSE he is going to make this harder than it needs to be. The bronze unwraps himself and will project an image to them, far away from civilization though. Clearly, they will need to walk a bit.

Kouzevelth and Kainaesyth sense that Dremkoth augments the crackle of Kouzevelth's lightning across night skies laden with unspent rain clouds, heavy and brooding. « D'ani wants to know why we are to pose as nonriders. Is yours in danger? » The implication is that the Weyrleader's dragons are in on the news - at least of Ha'ze's incarceration and that there will be a (hopefully) short delay to the start of that meeting.

"Thys is a Smith," says Inri, who has ended up a little bit lost as to how drunk-D'ani got there. But it's not so important she'll press; she has to actually do things like put clothes on now. So much work. At least riding leathers are relatively easy? She isn't arguing to defend tea, which of course she likes, because instead she's letting him leave the bedroom so she can actually do the getting dressed part. What her dragon (or, rather, Ha'ze's) asks of her isn't particularly difficult: Inri has no problem playing incognito. It's something she's had to do before, admittedly not in a very long time. Her knot ends up in her pocket, just in case, but as far as visually? When she steps out into the outer weyr she's just some woman in flight pants and a blouse with a weird strappy purse. "Well, this will be. Fun."

Kouzevelth acquiesces, whether or not Dremkoth and his approve of this arrangement: « I will stay out of the way, » because she is large and noticeable, so if they're trying to be quiet about it, Kouzevelth's really no help. She may be Pern's largest dragon.
There is a flutter of wind within the warmth, the branches of the desert palo verde shaking with laughter. « No danger. Ha'ze lies about who he is, and wishes to not recreate the story he has woven to those who hold him in captivity. » Kainaesyth is clearly getting some enjoyment out of Ha'ze' predicament. « Shall we go? He does wish his freedom. »

"Riiight." D'ani knew that. Thys is a smith who likes goats. NOT a beastcrafter. Yay inebriation! And though D'ani is relieved that Kainaesyth is unconcerned, it is likely a reply via Velokraeth that has Dremkoth replying that they will comply. D'ani does pace (more like stagger) while Inri is dressing and though he's not wearing flight leathers - jeans will have to do - he's crammed his feet into his boots and thrown on his rough shirt. It's left carelessly hanging open and he's also stuffed his knot into a pocket. He's also rummaged for more booze, hopefully the kind that'll either get guards drunk or serve as a bribe. He's going to owe Inri a restocking of her liquor cabinet bigtime! He's also not much help harnessing Kouzevelth, but he tries, bless him. And might need assistance buckling himself in once they're mounted (his excuse? His arms are full of whiskey, ale and rum bottles, of course).

Kouzevelth and Kainaesyth sense that Dremkoth , while annoyed that he isn't going on this adventure is amused to assert with stars peeking between those dark clouds twinkling laughter « They come knotless. Ha'ze is D'ani's brother for the evening. Inri is his wife. Do not forget. »

Scene continues here!

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