Who F'inn, K'zre
What F'inn returns and has some unexpected news to share with Kez.
When Autumn - Month 9 of Turn 2720
Where Elysian Garden Weyr, Fort Weyr

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Fort Weyr - Elysian Garden Weyr
The well-worn pathway leading from the ledge opens onto a cavern that is nearly as massive in scope as the one before. To the left of the entrance, a hearth adorned with ornate stonework affords glimpses of the dragon hollow beyond. The hearth, itself, is massive in scope, more then large enough for two full grown men to stand side by side, arms akimbo. To either side of the hearth towering shelves have been carved into the wall, the upper portions reachable only by narrow ladders affixed to the wall. The exterior edge of the mantel has been carved with a depiction of a pair of dragons in flight, the intricately crafted dragons depicted in perpetual pursuit of the full moon resting dead center. From the hearth, the room sweeps out in wide half circle, the cavernous space more then large enough to comfortably house a modest-sized dragon (although there is no way a dragon could navigate the pathway). It is immediately noticeable that this weyr is not equipped with electric lighting, although there are numerous nooks for glows and fixtures for candles and torches adorning the walls.

To the right of the entrance, the room sweeps into a gentler arc, an ancient hearth for cooking dug directly into the stone. To either side of the hearth shelves have been carved into the walls, a taller opening leading to long narrow room that is clearly meant for storage. At the far end of this area, almost directly opposite of the entrance, an opening leads to spiral staircase— carved directly into the stone— that descends deeper into the weyr.

Before the hearth a plethora of soft, lush furs have been added, massive pillows in bronze trimmed green and green trimmed bronze added for additional comfort. A pair of sturdy, comfortable chairs in dark wood are arranged before the hearth, a small table bearing a glass sconced candle resting between them. Each of the chairs is complete with comfortable, dark green cushions and matching footrest. Upon the hearth graceful candelabras are arranged, a massive beveled glass vase in the shape of a crescent moon, with two small crescents dangling by bronze links, and filled with lush red roses, settled dead center. Not to far from the 'kitchen' area, a long wooden table with four sturdy chairs has been arranged. Near the western most wall, a sturdy dark wood couch and coffee table have been arranged atop a plush carpet in forest hues. Opposite it, tucked out of the way, along the eastern wall, a potters wheel, kiln and a pair of easels have been arranged. Settled along the wall within easy reach are canvas, barrels of clay and a set of shelves containing numerous paints, glazes, brushes and dyes.


K'zre is not a stranger to duty. He most certainly got his sense of loyalty, his respect for the Weyr, the leadership, and those of any rank, from his mother. She might not be the best mom, but Lezke is a very loyal dragonrider. And Kez definitely follows her in that respect. It is why he accepted Search in the first place — out of a deep sense of duty and obligation to the Weyr that houses him. But while he might understand why F'inn must leave, and why he has taken on this task, that does not mean he in any way enjoys it. Those nights when F'inn was gone, and K'zre must endure an empty weyr, are spent in the infirmary instead. Yasminath has kept quiet, speaking only when Nymionth speaks to her because, like Kez, she understands that her bronze has a job to do, and she did not want to distract him from it.

Today is no different. The morning saw the pair flying sweeps, and then returning in the afternoon for a shift in the infirmary. It is only as it is getting on to evening that K'zre returns home, the need for a bath the primary motivation for the return to cold stone and empty tunnels. But what was meant to be a quick little sit-down turns into an impromptu nap as exhaustion catches up to him. With Yasminath curled in her couch, wistful gaze toward the sky, K'zre has succumbed to sleep on the couch wearing one of F'inn's shirts and clutching his pillow to his chest.

Nymionth and F'inn are both anxious to get home after meeting with Th'ero. It's been days he's been in Gold Hill, and while he enjoys the peopleshockingly he misses his weyrmate and his own bed. The moment that Nymionth lands and F'inn has dismounted, the bronze is crooning to Yasminath, just barely staying still long enough to get his straps off before he's making his way over to wind himself around her considerably smaller form. That he missed her is clear in the shower of rose petals and adoration, every part of him wrapping around her even as F'inn pulls off his gear and heads inside.

Finding K'zre on the couch gives him a momentary pause, his expression softening as he steps over and sits carefully on the edge of the couch. There is something impossibly satisfying about knowing that his weyrmate is sleeping out here, and he will happily believe that is ENTIRELY because he was missed. Shifting in closer, he gently and carefully pulls Kez into his lap, one hand reaching down to brush dark hair off the greenrider's brow. "Hey you," he whispers as he leans over to brush a kiss over warm lips.

F'inn's assumption would be absolutely correct. Sleeping in their bed alone is unbearable. Even if Kez could manage to fall asleep there (which he would not), the idea is so depressing that it has him not even attempting it. The couch has become a temporary place to crash, ill-equipped for such, but the greenrider cares little for the lack of blankets. On the ledge, Yasminath is up and off her couch the moment Nymionth has touched down, her delight at his return obvious in the almost shrill croon that answers his own. Her only hesitation is F'inn, unwilling to potentially crush him in her haste to get to the bronze. A whuffle of blond hair is his only greeting however, and then Yas is all about getting under Nym's wing and letting herself be showered in roses and assured of his affections.

On the couch, asleep though he might be, it is a light sleep, again owing to the fact that his weyrmate is not around. Or, at least, K'zre is not expecting him to be around. Which is why his first instinct upon being touched is resistance. A quick jerk of his form away from the touch, and a sudden flash of brown eyes that spell death and destruction until they recognize F'inn for who he is. Then there is relief, and an immediate winding of his arms around the bronzerider in an attempt to get him closer, the pillow abandoned in favor of the real thing. "Mm," comes in muffled return, the rush of adrenaline fading fast, and it's a tense but affectionate smile offered to his weyrmate. "You're back."

F'inn exhales a laugh at the flash of DOOM AND DESTRUCTION in K'zre's eyes, his smile broadening as he kicks off his boots and tugs K'zre into his lap. "I'm back," he assures as he runs his hands up the length of the greenrider's back. "Shells, I missed you," he murmurs as he leans in to inhale his weyrmate's scent. And, while he has news, and is anxious to share it, at the moment, the entirety of his attention is on drawing his nose along the length of the greenrider's throat and nipping gently at one plump earlobe. "I hate not having you next to me at night." That announcement is made as he tightens his hold, pressing a kiss to K'zre's temple before he leans back on the couch and grips his hips. "I've got some good news and some bad news," he states as he watches K'zre's face. "The weyrleader has decided that I am not suited for Thunderbird."

K'zre has a very simple solution to this, and it is given voice with a firm, "Then don't leave." Done. If F'inn does not leave, then he does not have to sleep without K'zre. And the greenrider does not have to sleep without him. "I couldn't sleep," he admits, which may as well be translated as 'I missed you, too' given it comes with an almost desperate hold. As though afraid that the bronzerider might, in fact, get up and leave again. Even the draw of his weyrmate's nose, the bite of his teeth at the flesh of his earlobe, does not loosen that grasp. It does inspire a shiver, and drag a hint of a moan form his throat, however. Though truly, F'inn could do whatever he'd like and K'zre would be pleased with it, so long as it did not involve his leaving again. The lean away from him is entirely unwelcome, but Kez releases his hold enough to allow it, if just so he can meet his weyrmate's gaze. But whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't that. "You… but why?!" And immediately there is indignation and irritation, a flash of righteous anger in his gaze. "You're a brilliant dragonrider! How could they think that?"

F'inn can't help smiling at K'zre's reaction to the news, a quiet chuckle humming in his throat as he smoothes his hands over the length of the greenrider's thighs. "It's fine," he assures in soothing tones. "It isn't because he thinks less of me as a dragonrider, I promise." Drawing in a deep breath, he takes a moment, lightly clearing his throat before even attempting to speak. "Now, I'm telling you this /now/ so you are not blindsided tomorrow. But, we have to keep it between us until Th'ero makes the announcement, alright?"

That statement does nothing to alleviate K'zre's confusion, though it does soothe his ire. "I don't understand," is offered in tones of mild frustration. Releasing his death grip on his weyrmate, his fingers slide along the seams of F'inn's jacket, idly toying with the leather as the bronzerider speaks and Kez attempts to understand. Unfortunately, there is nothing yet to understand, except the statement that this is meant to be a secret. A frown, but after a moment of consideration K'zre's gaze goes glassy in the typical way of dragonriders. "Alright," he decides, coming back to himself. "I've warned Yasminath." Because of the two of them, she is the social one more apt to spill secrets, not him. "What is going on?"

F'inn dips his chin in a nod, clearly relieved that Yasminath has been warned to keep her excitement to /them/ for now. Still, actually saying the words feels awkward to him, so much so that there is an immediate rush of color that stains his cheeks nearly scarlet. "I feel foolish even saying this outloud," he admits with a sighs. Still, he knows K'zre's patience has it's limits and he lightly clears his throat. "Tomorrow morning, Th'ero will be announcing the appointment of the new Weyrsecond." Another pause follows before he slants a sheepish look to his weyrmate's face. "F'inn rider of Bronze Nymionth."

Things are not getting any clearer, and when F'inn actually starts to blush? Now Kez is worried, twisting himself around until he's straddling his weyrmate so that he can look him full in the face, studious gaze searching for what the possible problem might be. "I don't…" understand. Only F'inn is finally spitting it out, and Kez is just… staring at him. There is no way, not in a million turns and with a million chances, that K'zre would have been able to guess this. It is unexpected enough that, once F'inn gets around to actually saying it, there is an altogether thoroughly confused expression on the greenrider's face. As if he doesn't understand what it is his weyrmate just said. "But…" But that's him. And this does not compute, and K'zre is starting to wonder if there is some grand joke being played on him. Only his trust in F'inn is such that he does not believe the bronzerider would do such a thing. Which leads to the only logical conclusion of… "You're going to be Weyrsecond?!" K'zre's shock might just be offensive, if it were not so genuine (and if F'inn did not know him so very well). He doesn't intend to be rude, but the announcement is so unexpected that there is no disguising his astonishment. And while the proper thing to do would be to congratulate him, Kez ends up just staring at him, wide-eyed and mute. (But at least his jaw is not hanging open?)

F'inn winces mildly at the reaction, his blush growing deeper. "I know," he assures. "It's ridiculous. I know, I agree. But apparently, all these missions to Gold Hill? They were a test. Apparently, I was not the only being looked at.. I… guess, he.. well.." Clearing his throat, he sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils, trying to ignore Nymionth's smug satisfaction. "It's me. Oh," he adds. "I said yes, of course." Cause really, who in their right mind would turn that down. Still, he's concerned about K'zre's reaction and tilts his head. "You're not mad?"

It is longer than it should be for K'zre to find his voice. Shock fades into confusion again, and once more there's a firm, "I don't understand." But this time, it comes with a grasp of F'inn's jacket and a stubborn shake of his head. "It is not ridiculous." There is still surprise, to be sure, but he's come down from it enough that he can argue against his weyrmate's presupposition that his promotion is in some way unfounded. "I am just… It's unexpected." Very unexpected, clearly. But he does not have to think long for that second answer. "I am not angry," he decides. "I'm…" confused. Shocked. Trying to get a grasp of things. "You're… you won't be flying with— with Thunderbird." With him. He won't be flying with him anymore. A pause, K'zre's gaze dropped to focus on the collar of his weyrmate's shirt while he thinks, and he wonders, "How do you feel about it?"

F'inn exhales a wry laugh, his brows twitching sharply. "It was very unexpected," he admits in quiet tones. "I didn't even know I was being considered." It's the mention of not flying with Thunderbird, or more specifically, with K'zre that has him reaching up to cup the greenrider's cheeks. "I will /always/ be flying with you. You are my mate just as surely as Yasminath is Nymionth's." Meeting K'zre's eyes for a long moment, he leans in and brushes a kiss over his lips. "I feel… honored," he admits. "And relieved. You won't have to worry about my pulling reckless stunts ever again. The worse I'll be doing is having dinner and talking politics with holders."

K'zre does not know how to feel about any of this. There's such a jumble of emotions, and it is far too soon for him to begin to sort through them. But the touch of F'inn's hands draws his eyes back up, and he searches his weyrmate's own before that gentle kiss. "Relieved…" It might be what F'inn is feeling, but certainly not K'zre. "Worst—" and now there's just a look cast at the bronzerider. "Politics with holders… You can't trust Holders!" Meaning, Kez feels not at all assured of his weyrmate's safety simply because he might be at a conference table rather than diving into a frozen lake or forest fire. "And I do not believe for one moment that you will stop being reckless." It will just be a different sort of reckless. "I'm… I'm proud of you," he says at last, even if his tone might suggest there is more than that. "I'm just… This is a lot…" he admits. "But I don't doubt you. I don't doubt you or Nymionth at all, F'inn. This is not ridiculous at all. You are a natural leader."

F'inn exhales a sigh as he listens to K'zre, his hands dropping back down to rest on the greenrider's hips. "I have to admit, I enjoyed it at Gold Hill.. They were a little.. wary of me, but they're warming up." He doesn't mind Holders at all, but then F'inn likes most everyone. It is the last that has him flashing his more familiar smile, his expression warming considerably. "You being proud of me is the only thing that matters to me, K'zre. You are the only thing that matters to me." Everything else? Secondary, at best. "I need you to be alright with this, though. If you are not, you need to tell me so I can let Th'ero know that I decline the offer." And he would, without a doubt, turn it down if it made K'zre even a little uncomfortable.

"But you've already accepted…" It is not an argument so much as simple fact. F'inn already told Th'ero 'yes'. He said so himself. The idea that he could not decline has K'zre baffled. "You can't decline now," he asserts. "You can't go back on your word." It is as simple as that. In the greenrider's mind, there is nothing left to discuss. But in deference to his weyrmate's concerns, he does give honest thought to how he feels about it. "I don't know if I am alright with it," he admits. "I am not… I don't want you to decline," comes firmly in the next breath. "I want you to do it. You… you and Nymionth are meant for it. But I think… I think it will take a little time for me to really… for me to become accustomed to the idea." It's going to change a lot. The reality of this is sinking in as they sit there, and it has K'zre's fingers tightening again. "Just… be patient with me."

F'inn wraps his arms around K'zre drawing him in against his chest. "Being patient with you is easy," he admits in quiet tones. "I know it's a lot. I was… I was shocked. But Th'ero is not concerned with my age so there is that." He can do it, and he can do it well. He knows that without a doubt, but it is a lot. It's /huge/. "It will mean changes," he admits. "We'll be doing a lot of traveling.. If, of course, you are willing to go with me when I have to visit other weyrs and holds?" Naturally, he's hoping that K'zre will be willing to do that, but he's not going to assume. "We'll have to go functions, partys and such… But that's fun?"

K'zre is willingly drawn in, forehead pressed to F'inn's shoulder at the first opportunity so that he can hide his face and not worry about his expression. It is not very schooled at the moment, and does not want to give the wrong impression. "How can I do that," he murmurs in a quiet sigh. "I have responsibilities to Thunderbird. I have to fly sweeps and attend to emergencies and… and be there." Be a wingrider. And the idea of functions, of parties? That is a frightening thought, and it has the greenrider mute and breathless for a moment as he gives serious contemplation to whether or not he would even — could even — manage it. "I will go with you," he offers in a muffled murmured. "I will go if it makes you happy." But being a social butterfly, attempting to make nice in a politically charged environment? Just the thought has him chewing at his lip and hunching his shoulders.

"I have nothing but faith in you, Kezresan," F'inn assures. Smoothing his hands over the expanse of K'zre's back, he kneads at the greenrider's shoulders, his touch gentle. "You are my weyrmate and you will be my weyrmate until the day I die. I want you with me, whenever you can be. And when you can? I will be so proud to have you on my arm." There is no doubt in him at all on that front. K'zre might not be the most social creature out there, but he is F'inn's mate and F'inn is always happiest when they are together. "We are going to be fine," he assures in quietly firm tones.

K'zre is not at all certain of that. Of any of it. That he is F'inn's weyrmate is uncontested, but the rest? It is not something he wants to think about. But there's a muffled, "I'll be with you," that echoes his earlier assertion that he will, in fact, attend those events with F'inn. Even if he'll hate them. Even if he'll spend every moment silent and still and perhaps drinking himself into a bit of a buzz to get through it all, he'll be there. But one terrifying thought is voiced in sudden distraction, head tossed up when he exclaims, "I don't have anything to wear! Nothing formal…" Because as nice as his costume is, he highly doubts it would be appropriate for such a thing. Even if there is no impending event for which he must dress.

F'inn blinks at the emotion in the words, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he abruptly spills K'zre onto the couch and stretches out on top of him. "Neither do I," he points out. Because while his own costume was nice? It's a bit to overly formal for most functions. "But we have N'sir and he? He will be thrilled to make sure we are decked out in the finest formal wear he can make." Bracing on his hands, his expression softens as he presses a tender kiss to K'zre's lips. "I missed you so much," he whispers against his weyrmate's lips.

The eternal plight of 'what to wear' will be dealt with on another day. In the wake of F'inn's reminder that they have a tailor at the ready (even if he does not know it) and the sudden switch to laying on the couch with his weyrmate over him, K'zre is no longer worried about black-tie (or even slightly formal) affairs. There is just F'inn, and his kiss, the reminder that he was missed and the knowledge that the bronzerider is home; the sudden, thrilling understanding that he will not be leaving again. Gone is the trepidation. Gone is the hesitation and furrowed brow. Instead, there is only a fleeting, resplendent smile before Kez is pulling him down for a much more thorough kiss.


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