Tillek Hold – Wharf

Branching out like tree limbs off of the main wharf are the many slips that hold various fishing boats. Each of the boats has a unique look to it, either by paint or by sail color. It is obvious that the sailors of Tillek Hold take a great deal of pride in their vessels.
The wharf is wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side and the wooden planks show much wear from the constant traffic on the wharf. At the end of the pier, is a place set aside for the youngsters of the hold to fish from, wheting their appeitites for the day when they too will head out onto the open sea to catch "the big ones".

A frustrated Weyrwoman is a Weyrwoman who has been told to stay back and wait. A frustrated Weyrwoman also knows when not to argue, and when not to push herself at least. It doesn't make her any less frustrated, but she knows when to stay put, and act as a troubling presence who means to intimidate those who try to call the Fortian riders back from assisting in the Search for their lost Candidates and Weyrsecond. So, when the boat is finally in view, the Weyrwoman makes her way down to the wharf with Zuvaleyuth providing a ride most of the way down, until she can go no further. The rest of the way? Dtirae walks, a little stiffer than normall, a notable limp as she favors her good leg versus the previously injured. And then, when they begin to unload the rescue boat, she waits impatiently, fingers idly twisting the hem of her jacket. It's more than likely she doesn't even notice her own actions.

A gold dragon landing near the quay is hard to overlook. And though Tillek faces west, the morning is well-advanced by the time the rescue boat is made fast at her wharf mooring. The area is flooded with Rukbat's light, and Zuvaleyuth is ablaze. D'ani, standing on the deck of the ship as they track into the harbor, sees her right away. It's then that it hits him how very worried people must have been. Well, people - and Dtirae. Little rest was had aboard the rescue ship - it is a fishing vessel after all - for various reasons. There are hammocks below deck. But most are noticeably leery of sleeping aboard her. And chill, like the kind they experienced throughout the night, isn't shed easily even if they tried to warm the frigid room with the galley stove and plied them with hot drinks. A soak in the bathing caverns or a bake on southern shores might be what it takes. The gangplank is lowered and the exhausted, blanket-draped candidates are escorted off and taken to the healers. D'ani is last to trudge down that gangplank to solid land, blanket held 'round his shoulders in spite of the fact he's still wearing his jacket. He doesn't follow the group into the hold, but starts to make his way towards wherever the dragons are.

Dtirae has settled out of the way, away from where the candidates walk past as they are escorted. She likely won't be seen very easily, not with the passing figures. And just as she may be hard to see, it makes her hard to spot who she seeks. But when the crowd begins to thin, the bronzerider is spotted easily and she approaches. If she could run, she certainly would! But, instead, moves as quickly as she can. "D'ani." Is called, just loud enough for him to hear, carefully restrained so not to give away her distress, so not to give away how she's really fretted in wake of the news. She's tense, watching him and trying to hide the worry. This? This feeling is also something new.

If he was apprised of them, Dremkoth did not share any of the emotions Zuvaleyuth's rider must have felt with D'ani throughout that long night. He's been left to guess. He hasn't really felt much since the sudden sinking of the ship - that sort of thing tends to leave people gob-smacked and stunned numb. And since he didn't for a minute believe they would succumb, Dremkoth was not worried either and thus the bronze is calmly attending those eggs back at Fort Weyr with Kouzevelth. D'ani is also exhausted and slow enough not to think to ask Dremkoth to bespeak Zuvaleyuth to ask where her rider is, but that is who he seeks with a bleary-eyed, dull sort of plodding towards… well she'll be where the dragons can land, he's assumed that. His name has been called repeatedly throughout the night and this morning for this and that, decisions, where would the Weyr want the candidates brought, coordinating the communication between the sweep riders, the crew stranded with them and Tillek Hold. But the timbre of the voice has to be… "Rae?" He turns towards the voice and stumbles that way. She's not doing so well hiding her emotions from him anyway. So as he draws near to her, he just opens his arms.

Zuvaleyuth would not be so cruel as to share the turmoil her rider was feeling. Instead, her focus had been on keeping the Weyrwoman calm, in control, and making proper decisions rather than storming another Weyr's territory… Without the proper announcement and a promise not to get in the way. And while Zuvaleyuth assured Dtirae that the Weyrsecond was fine, it did nothing to keep the woman from fretting and worrying over the man. When he turns towards her and stumbles forward, there is a definite break in her mask. A sudden lack of caring for those who may be watching. Of course he can see through what she tries to hide, but others cannot! At least until the mask breaks and all that worry floods in, a touch of grief, and more parts relief. As his arms open when he draws near, she all but falls into him. Her arms are slipping around his neck and her face is briefly hidden, oh so briefly to try and gain some attempt at control. She draws back, hands settling on the side of his head resting just below his ears before she's drawing him in and kissing him because he's here and he's fine.

Tillek Hold – Courtyard

Nestled in the mountains of the High Reaches is Tillek Hold. Here in the courtyard, ancient cobblestones have taken on a mossy tinge, no longer scrubbed clean quite so often, now that the threat of thread is gone forever. To the east, north and south are the sides of high mountains that are dug in with wide terrences. On these steppes are cultivated the vineyards of Tillek's wine and narrow farmlands. To the west is the sparkling ocean and a sheltered marina where the Hold's fishing fleet docks.

D'ani knows enough of Dtirae that, as her arms reach for him and his wrap around her in a close hug - far enough that his own hands easily reach his own shoulders - he also draws her around the corner of the building they're beside into the shadows of an ell where she'll be protected from prying eyes. She'll be feeling the prickle of his unshaven face under the palms of her hands as she kisses him. A kiss he returns before re-gathering her into that close hug as he then leans his back against the stone and just holds her as long as she seems to need it. He doesn't chuckle or make light of anything. Just holds her. Perhaps drawing some comfort as well.

Dtirae might not say anything for him moving them from prying eyes, but she is silently thankful. Thankful that he has enough sense to draw them away while she is far more distracted to think ahead. Without worry for hiding, the emotions settle into her features without restraint. Fingers gingerly stroke the unshaven face, careful in her movements before he's returning the kiss. Once broken and he draws her in again, she does not protest. She, instead, tightens her hold as if frightened he'll disappear, frigten he'll suddenly slip away. But, the more she holds him the less the fear nags and the more she relaxes. Her face remains hidden against him before slightly tilting upward so that she may speak. "Don't… Don't do this again." Like he did it on purpose! "I was… Shells, I was scared. I knew you were fine, Dremkoth was fine but." Her hands tighten into fists, but her arms do not squeeze tighter. It wouldn't do her any good to suffocate him, after all.

Okay, now that? Makes D'ani chuckle. "I'll… try not to?" he says with a rumbled laugh that she'll feel through her rib cage. "Dtirae. I'm fine," he assures. Though he may be now, he wasn't then. Not that he had time to feel scared, really. But he does understand. And so there is no impatience as he remains, holding her, stroking the back of her head, fingers trailing through her hair soothingly. "Dremkoth would have come for me if I'd have been in real peril," he assures her confidently. Only… he couldn't give coordinates. And how would he have done that if the ship had gone down before he could get out to look at the unfamiliar stars overhead to have the bronze risk everything to try? This is something that he has given much thought to during the long night just past, but he refrains from giving voice to in the harsh light of day. "I know, I know," he says comfortingly. Scared. Shells. They all were!

His chuckling is expected. She's asking for the impossible, more or less. Her face remains hidden against him, his answer heard loud and clear, however. She'll only nod once, and then again at his statement that he's fine. But, she still does not release him. Fear keeps her clinging, finger tightening to cling as his hands trail through her hair. It's an idle realization that she did not bother to tie it back before they, more or less, stormed the keep. "D'ani…" The protest dies before it begins as she draws back, grey eyes searching him again. There's fear that is completely unrestrained, tears that are being held back as she takes a very slow breath. Nothing further is spoken, grey eyes seeking his in attempt to say more, to say what she doesn't dare to say outloud.

D'ani is bone-tired. And still deeply chilled. He's utterly drained. Dremkoth's relief is only now hitting him, for the bronze kept his worry carefully shielded for the entire ordeal. So that hug feel incredibly wonderful to him right now and he leans into it with a slow increase of weight that he's probably not quite aware of as he just soaks in the comfort of it, not at all minding that Dtirae is not letting go. He's not impatient to released. In fact, he might fall asleep in her arms even though he's standing up. His fingers make rhythmic, idle movement, the silken stands slipping between his fingers almost mesmeric to him. When she draws back, the impulse is to mumble, "Just five more minutes, please?" At least there's no 'mom' in the thought! He meets her searching eyes and perception kicks in. SO much to think about. If only he could make his very sluggish brain do so. "I'm sorry we scared you," he says. It's so inadequate, he knows, but right now he's fairly disconnected from his own brain and feelings.

Dtirae would, certainly, let him continue to play with her hair as long as it comforts him. However, it is the fact that she needs to see him that prevents her from doing so. His mumble is met with a soft laugh, "soon." She promises, and slowly draws back even more. Her hands, however, do not leave him. It is more that she attempts to lead him along, with a careful glance to check their position. "It's… Okay." Not entirely, but she won't let him know her deeper thoughts, her deeper feelings. "Let's see if there's a bed we can borrow, just for a short while, before we go home?" Surely, there is somewhere they can rest within the Hold, until D'ani feels awake enough to make the departure home. Unless he protests and insists they return to the Weyr first.

D'ani protests even while he moves with Dtirae's drawing him along with her. "I don't want a bed here," he says. "I want to go to home to Fort Weyr." Dremkoth is there, back on the sands, so he won't be 'driving'. In fact, he fully expects he'll catch a ride with Dtirae. Could he fall asleep in the middle of *Between*? Probably. He wouldn't fall off though. Straps and such will prevent that. "And I want a soak in the hot springs first. Then a hot meal. But before that… "I need to go to the infirmary here and see that the Candidates are alright. And stay with them until they are released." Even if he'd like to hear them, he's in no condition to hear Dtirae's deeper thoughts. Well, he could hear them, might remember them in a fuzzy sort of way. But make a coherent and well-spoken answer? Probably not.

"Then, I'll take you home. You can sleep in my bed." Dtirae offers in response to his protests. She won't argue, not with Tillek being high on her 'places to dislike' list. In fact, resting at home is a much better idea than resting elsewhere. Instead of leading him away to the Hold, she leads him towards where Zuvaleyuth waits. She is close, in the way of some of the coming and goings of the Holders, but none seem to really protest. Fear of angering a Weyrwoman? It's entirely possible and Dtirae is not someone they want to yell at. As he continues to speak, there's a slight pause in her step but she recovers quickly. A brief consideration of the bronzerider before she gives a fond little smile. "We can go to the infirmary." Their path will shift from heading towards Zuvaleyuth — Sorry Holders! At least the gold gets it in her mind to move somewhere closer to the infirmary rather than staying in the way — to the infirmary.

He can sleep in her bed? D'ani grins at Dtirae, but the teasing leer he intends comes out more rakishly than suggestive. She can hear him snore - won't that be just lovely? He's too numb to come up with any sort of witty quip about it either and so just slings an arm about her shoulders, pulls her close and allows her to direct their steps towards the Infirmary, trusting her to know where it is. Once in there, he's more irritable than is his norm when the healers want to check him out. "You can give me report on Fort Weyr's Candidates," he says shortly, his emphasis on Fort Weyr deliberate because yes, he's overheard the High Reachian riders joking about taking the lot. Possessive much, D'ani? Sometimes, yes.

That rakish smile that he gives her is met with a rather serious look, "I mean it, D'ani. You can rest in my weyr." She's not teasing on this matter, even if he may try to. Dtirae doesn't say anything further on that as his arm goes around her shoulder, her own slipping around his waist in means to further guide him while keeping him close. She's not willing to let him go, it seems. When they manage to make it to the Infirmary, she will carefully slip away from his side and maintain a more professional appearance, distant, to herself, but simply observing. His response to the Healers has her making a very slight face. "He says that he is fine," the Weyrwoman insists after a moment, "then he is fine. We will check on our candidates without your assistance if we must." Official Weyrwoman tone kicks in, and a hand lifts to gently guide D'ani away from the Healers and further into the Infirmary. It shouldn't be hard to find their group, but, if the Healers don't want a mess on their hands? Well, they'll likely come and assist them.

D'ani understands the need for professionalism, but his increasingly sluggish brain didn't think about it beforehand. He easily allows the Weyrwoman to slip from under his arm when she does, though. Somewhere in the bustling Infirmary Th'ero and Kimmila are also keeping an eye on things, the Weyrleader surely more up-to-date than The Weyrsecond is. They're busy in a conversation with the High Reaches Weyrleader and the Senior Journeyman Healer in charge over in a corner and so it's one of the Juorneyman underlings who catches D'ani up to speed: The most serious case: a bump to the head and hypothermia, not exhaustion because she slept but it didn't help her keep as warm as moving around would have. That one stays overnight. Others: hypothermia and exhaustion, they stay also. A pointed look is given to the Weyrsecond. He ought to stay too, says the underling, but D'ani just shakes his head. Some are being released and so he mumbles something about accompanying that group back to Fort Weyr, his intention is to see them settled, hah, if he can remain awake. So it's on out to where the dragons await and home. Which… once he's settled upon Zuvaleyuth behind Dtirae and has his arms around her, cuddled against her with his chin tucked over her shoulder, he falls asleep.

Dtirae will, for the most part, be quiet and supportive. When they are appraised of the situation, the woman is merely nodding in understanding. At the healer's word that he should stay, there's almost a protest for D'ani to listen but instead? Instead, she indulges him and doesn't argue with his want to return with the group returning to the Weyr. But, as for getting them settled? Well, it's likely that she'll be dragging him off before he can. Not that she says this. She will, for the most part, remain as if she's supportive of his decisions. When they are out of the Infirmary, she will return to guiding him with her arm around him unti they are with Zuvaleyuth and both are settled. The fact that he falls asleep would earn soft laughter, but she allows him to sleep as they make the trip home. They'll be at her weyr before he can protest, insisting he sleep before she lets him see the Candidates. And if needed? Well, Dtirae's not above ordering him to rest.

Fort Weyr - Dtirae's Weyr

The curtain that blocks the outside ledge from the rest of the weyr is no simple curtain: it is made from animal pelts, carefully woven together to create a door that is not quite a door, but it battles the heat and cold in the various seasons to provide the weyr with a certain warmth. And, that is only the beginning. The weyr can most simply be described as: tribal or wild. Pelts of various animals, likely all kills from the Weyrwoman, line the walls. Amongst the many kinds is one particularly large feline, male to be exact, and largest among all of the other pelts with the color being a bright golden. It rest beside the large wooden desk settled off in the corner. The desk is lined almost constantly with paperwork, likely the place the Weyrwoman retreats to when things are far from quiet in the offices. The rest of the living area is quite cozy: a hearth is settled on the opposite side with a pelt on the floor before it. A small table and two chairs are a little towards the center of the room, both quite quaint and dainty looking: out of place for this very tribal setting.
Another curtain blocks the way into another section of the weyr. This section is the sleeping area and, bathing cavern combined. The bath that occupies the weyr is large, roomy enough for two but, from the looks of it: it has barely been touched in Turns. Across from the bathing area is where the bed is settled. Pelts also cover the bedding, providing blankets as they have been specially tailored to cater to that purpose. Of course, there are more pelts lining the wall of the whole area. However, the other details are softer and a little more welcoming. Shelves beside the bathtub provide various goods, such as soapsand and towels. Bookshelves are near the bed, and soft non-animal rugs, line the floor to provide a warmer surface to place one's feet on in the mornings. A wardrobe is also settled in the room, placed in the middle between both the sleeping area and the bathing area.

D'ani awakes on Zuvaleyuth's ledge to the sound of flightline clips being undone. *Between* didn't rouse him and landing didn't rouse him either. It's really only been a few minutes of sleep, enough to allow the chill accumulated in his flesh set in further and it makes for one very groggy, disoriented Weyrsecond who at first cannot remember where he is or why. The movements to get off of Zuvaleyuth are automatic and clumsy, even if Dtirae is likely helping him. It's a half-tumble rather than his cocky slide down the strap and when his feet do hit the stone, he staggers and steadies himself with one hand to golden hide rather than bronze. That he doesn't even mumble an apology is telling that he dimly assumes it's Dremkoth and this is his ledge (despite what Dtirae said earlier). Helped in as if he's drunk, his steps are sure but his balance is off but there's a bed, which dimly registers as… different before he heads that way.

Dtirae is, definitely, helping him along. The fact that he's not entirely registering their surroundings goes without comment, or worry. He's tired, she does not blame him. Zuvaleyuth does not mind, nor does she rumble her amusement for the poor man's stumbling. She allows herself to be a support for as long as he needs it. When the mumbled apology comes, however, she does rumble her amusement before Dtirae leads him into the weyr and to the bed. When he settles, she will assist in removing his boots and anything else that may disturb his sleep before the blankets are pulled over him.

D'ani's helmet and goggles are sort of shucked one-handed and dropped as he crosses Dtirae's weyr. How many times has he finished a day's work and dragged himself to his weyr this way? Quite a few if one were to note how automatic he accomplishes this. His jacket he can undo, but as his arm is around her, he doesn't attempt that until he's seated on the edge of the bed while she's removing his boots. Most times in the past, he'd just fall across his bed in his clothing but they'd prepared for the Tillek trip be donning layers. Layers which while not only bulky, provide enough insulation that waking up in a sweat is something that even in his exhaustion he'd like to avoid. So groggily he loses the shirt, the jeans, the long underwear until he's in t-shirt and undershorts, leaving the clothing in a heap on the floor unless Dtirae moves them someplace else. His eyes are already shut as he crawls between the covers and mumbles, "Thanks Th'ero. M'sorry for all the trouble…" And he's out again.

Dtirae will not make any judgements about the bronzerider's lifestyle, or the fact that he works himself to exhaustion enough to where this habit is automatic. She'll continue to assist as needed. She remains, for the most part, entirely silent… Especially as he begins stripping out of his layers and layers of clothing. The desire to make a comment about his stripping in her weyr is kept to herself. The clothing is gathered and folded neatly before she's looking over at him. There's a snort of laughter at his mumbling. "I must really look like Th'ero if people are going to keep calling me that." Never mind that both instances involved exhaustion. She will join him on the bed after she goes through her own ritual of preparing to sleep. Riding leathers are changed out of, makeshift sleepware is put on (don't want to give your boyfriend trauma when he wakes up!), and hair is braided. Her leg is carefully massaged and wrapped, the strain of *betweening* and supporting another causing strain but? She does not complain, being that it was her own choice. Then? She joins him on the bed, settling under the furs rather than the rest of her blankets. She will observe him for some time before she, too, begins to sleep.

D'ani's been on autopilot ever since he's landed on Dtirae's ledge and once inside the weyr his eyes had drooped nearly closed. Looked like Th'ero? Not even close. But he comment doesn't register. He's nearly sleepwalking and somewhere in the muddle is a makeup of his normal day answering to Th'ero, assisting with minor snags and somehow he's either had too much to drink or he's too tired to get himself home and Th'ero, being a pal, has helped. Oh, when he wakes up he'll remember Dtirae had mentioned her place but now? He's so tired! He sinks into the mattress gratefully, is asleep within seconds. If he stirs at all when Dtirae settles beside him, it'll be to roll towards her and throw an arm over her, managing in that one move to curl close.

At least Dtirae has a sense of humor! Otherwise, he might have found him kicked out of her bed, and weyr… And out in the bowl, cold, and naked? Well, not naked, but certainly not dressed properly. When he stirs, there's a moment in which she looks at him again, checking to see if he's awake. But, he is merely rolling and throwing an arm over her and then curling closer. No protests, but there's certainly a soft laugh as she shifts to slip an arm around him in return. She's trying to keep him warm, really.

At least D'ani didn't call her Th'ero while curling up with her in that bed? Heavy sleep claims him throughout the rest of the evening they've arrived into *Betweening* from Tillek's midmorning, all through the night and into the next early morning. D'ani's body rhythms, dawn and what little light is able to leak around that furred curtain from the ledge, brings wakefulness and he emerges in stages. Warm, mmm. Rested, so good. Waitwhat? There is a woman in his arms. He doesn't move. Dremkoth didn't-? Cautiously he lifts his head, squints down to see dark hair and hazards, "Rae?" Much as both he and Dremkoth would enjoy winning one of Zuvaleyuth's flights, please don't tell him he's Weyrleader!! And does he get points for not calling her Inri in his confusion of deja vu?

He'll get points for not calling her Th'ero a second time. And it's certainly good he didn't go mumbling the Weyrleader's name in his sleep. Though, Dtirae can be a heavy sleeper so she likely would not have heard it… This time. D'ani's movement begins to stir her from her sleep, the woman shifting to wrap her arm more tightly around him. The sound of her name earns a soft 'mm' in answer, before slowly, she begins to wake. She does not pull away, however, nor does she open her eyes. "Sleep well?" Maybe she's just a tad oblivious to the fact that he might be panicking?

"Yes?" That'll be D'ani still panicking inside while casting to see where Dremkoth- Ah. Hot sands, egg mounds and thoughts of pride over his children-to-be and contentment that his mate is nearby. Kouzevelth, not Zuvaleyuth. The Weyrsecond's slight tension eases while he mentally breathes a sigh of relief. He does not envy Th'ero's position. He doesn't attempt to escape Dtirae's arms just yet, although he will surely have to soon for his duties await. His mind is becoming more alert, recent memories of events in sharper focus now - although the ride home and getting into this particular weyr remain fuzzy. "Thanks for… not dropping me off in the bowl?" Because who knows where he'd have ended up? Probably sacked out in the main caverns for people to trip over and the bakers to chortle and pinch his cheeks in rude awakening.

"Mm." Dtirae's answer is, again, unhelpful. Is she torturing him? It is quite likely. Though, when he begins to relax she begins to withdraw from him, sitting up slightly to give his cheek a gentle pat. "I told you that you could sleep in my bed. You do need to get down in the morning and I didn't want Dremkoth to be… Disturbed. And the bowl isn't very fun to sleep in." She leans in to brush a gentle kiss against his lips before pulling away. The fur is removed and the woman moves to get out of the bed. However, once her legs are over the edge, she doesn't actually stand. "Are you feeling okay?"

"So you did," responds D'ani with a chuckle as she pats his rough cheek. Damn, he needs a shave! And there's Candidates to fetch from Tillek's infirmary, Dremkoth needs to snag Kouzevelth something to eat from the pens, he needs to make report about that ill-fated Seacraft trip… Dtirae's lips on his break the litany of to-dos but she's pulling away before he can move to keep her close. Regret is swallowed and he too sits. "I am," he says firmly and adds, "How are you? How's the leg?" He'd like to linger, but the rebellious thought is mastered. The time isn't right. "Where's-" Ah! He spots his clothing folded and reluctant as he is, leaves the warmth of Dtirae's bed to don them. Crossing back to where she's sitting, he brushes a tender kiss to her lips and says sincerely, "Thanks Rae." Then he winks, "You've saved my cheeks from the cavern aunties bruising pinches." And then he'll cajole her into joining him for breakfast - he's starving! Or he'll have something sent to her. Either way, he's got to get moving. For various reasons.

The thoughts running through the bronzerider's mind are not seen, and thus, unintentionally broken by her quick kiss. Dtirae give him a very curious look for his answer, but she doesn't question him further. She trusts him. "I'm… I'm okay. My leg hurts." She's not going to lie, nope. "But, I'll be okay." And likely why she is reluctant to stand. She won't watch him dress, keeping her gaze elsewhere to give h im some sense of privacy until he returns. The tender kiss is returned, and a smile is given for his thanks. "You are quite welcome, D'ani. You know, you can sleep here soemtimes, if you'd like." The offer is, entirely casual but definitely sincere. She does not, however, join him for breakfast. Instead, she opts to have him send something up.

Tempting. Not that D'ani will take advantage of it just yet. But his comment will be honest when he tells her he'll think about it when he leaves her with a brush of knuckles against her cheek and promises to have something sent up to her. Proper manners require that he… Well. Time will tell.