Who F'inn, K'zre, Kimmila
What The dragons enjoy a bit of a night flight while the humans converse.
When Autumn - Month 9 of Turn 2718
Where Room Name, Area Name

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Fort Weyr - Training Complex
The remnants of a historic collapse are apparent here, as the slope face of the bowl has a predominant downward curvature. It's likely long ago, that a cavern larger than any Fort currently has was where the training complex currently is. A probable cave in triggered a fissure on the bowl wall which lead to a great chunk of it dislodging, thus creating the rounded slope.

Yet, many centuries later, all that remains to give evidence is the pocket made into the bowl wall. It seems that the inhabitants of Fort Weyr have made best of the created space. Rock on the ground proper has long since cleared, but pebbles and loose shale are constantly underfoot. Still, the sprig of some green leafed vegetation isn't too out of the ordinary in these parts, as long as it doesn't get trampled by the comings and goings.

It's clear that this area has been designated for the training of young minds, whether human or dragon. Surrounded by rock on all side, it's like a personal weyr bowl for the youngsters to minimize distraction and danger. The candidate barracks have been built across from the Weyrling barracks, so that one group can educate the next. Finally, placed in the centre of the two entrances of the opposing barracks, near the rock face, is a statue with a memorial plaque.


Autumn has definitely hit the Weyr. The leaves are changing, the weather has shifted, but the most notable change for K'zre at least, is the days getting shorter and night coming faster. It's not terribly late, but already the sun has set and the stars are out. No moons yet, but that does not stop Yasminath from trying to find them. She's allowed to fly again, having gained enough understanding of spatial awareness through trial and error (and a lot of those Follow the Leader games) to be allowed to take to the skies with her siblings once again. Now, though, she flies alone. Or, mostly alone, depending on whether or not Nymionth has joined her yet. While she twists and turns and dances through the dark night sky, Kez has staked out a spot near the wall with several blankets and a book. It's far too dark now for him to read, but the paperback novel still rests on his thigh. His eyes try to follow Yasminath, but it's simply too dark yet. Until the moons rise, and provide a bit more light, she is nothing but a silvery shadow among shining stars.

Nymionth hurls himself into the sky with a croon to follow Yasminath the moment he steps out of the weyr with F'inn. For his part, F'inn is pulling on a light sweater as he emerges (It is not frosting sweater. That died an ignoble death shortly after candidacy), a smile tracing over his lips as he makes his way toward K'zre. "Hey you, room for one more?" Even as he asks, he's sliding down the wall to sit on the ground, pale eyes sweeping up to try to watch the dragons overhead. "I love the crispness in the air," he sighs. There is just something impossible satisfying about Autumn in his opinion. With the light at that point where really tracking Yasminath and Nymionth is impossible, he lolls his head to the side to peek at the book, instead. "Has our intrepid bronze rider won the hand of the stoic green rider, yet?"

« Nymionth! » calls Yasminath with sheer delight, moonbeams glittering in her mind even if they are currently absent from the sky. « The sky is empty! It is ours! » Not quite, but the other dragons that might be enjoying a midnight (or late evening, as the case may be) romp are far enough away as to not disturb them. K'zre does not have a sweater. He does have a jacket, but it MIGHT not be his own (he totally stole it from F'inn's trunk >.>) and a blanket, and a thermos of something hot that has been abandoned somewhere on the blanket. His gaze goes from uselessly tracking Yasminath, to tracking F'inn, and then flitting toward the empty space on the blanket beneath him. "Yes…" because there is more than enough space. As for that book? At its mention, his hand reaches out to press his fingers to the cover, as though afraid it might suddenly jump up and flee. "It isn't that book," he admits. But it IS a book very much LIKE it. "And it's not his hand that he's after."

« The sky is not empty, Princess, » Nymointh calls back. « The most beautiful moon has graced me with her presence. » Ah, Nym, the poet Bronze. Circling around her, he slips in close enough to be near, but still give her enough room for her acrobatics. Noting the jacket, F'inn's smile broadens as he slips under the blanket and scoots in close against K'zre's side. (For warmth, of course!) "Smart bronze rider," he notes with a wink and a flashing smile. "Has he gotten very far? I mean, you know those stoic types love to play hard to get." In the wake of the observation, he drapes an arm comfortably around Kez' shoulder. "Nymionth has been itching to get out to fly with Yasminath all day," he notes with a contented sigh.

Yasminath might not understand flirting, but she does understand compliments. And as she adores Nymionth, his compliments mean the most. She'll take those words to heart, a flutter of shy delight coloring her voice as she twists and turns in a slow spiral that encourages his joining her. Dancing. That is what they are doing. And while Kez might stiffen a bit on the blanket below, brown eyes raised to peer without seeing towards the dragons ascending in the night sky, he knows that it is far, far too early for Yasminath to hint towards glowing. A low exhale and a faint, dry smile for the thought. Soon enough, F'inn is distracting him, settling beside and prompting the healer-turned-weyrling to wiggling in enough to press his side into him. "He's gotten into his bed," he admits. "Although… there wasn't actually a bed involved." Because there's never an actual /bed/ in these books. Hallways. Couches. Field of wild flowers? Sure. Bed? Pft. "And he's not /playing/ hard to get," he argues (are they still talking about the book?? Hrm). "He's just… guarded."

Nymionth is happy to dance with Yasminath. And really, despite his size, he is a very graceful fellow. Of course, he's crooning at her and showering her mind with roses the entire time. How can he not? Now, imagine, if you will, what he'll be like when he's actually courting with a purpose beyond adoration. It is the exhale that has F'inn casting a curious look at K'zre's face, his lips twitching in a wry smile. "What was that all about," he asks curiously. "Ahhh. Lucky bronze rider," he decides. "Nothing wrong with guarded," he assures. In the wake of the observation, he turns his head, his nose nuzzling at K'zre's brow. "It's worth the effort of learning to ease the worries that inspire shields." (he's pretty sure they are not talking about books, but that's okay). "They have lots of time."

"He's flirting with her." Kez might not recognize when someone is flirting with him, but he's recognizing it now. "It just…" but he shakes his head a bit, unable to really put his thoughts into words. So he aborts the attempt before it goes any further. He leans into F'inn, a faint smile tracing over his lips for the nuzzling of his brow, lashes lowering to half-lidded. "They do," he agrees, fingers drumming faintly on the book at his thigh before he lets it go in favor of winding that arm around F'inn instead, turning himself so that he's sitting more sideways to precipitate the hug. "And hopefully, he still feels it is worth it in the end." Because sometimes they don't. And while novels typically have happy endings, Kez is very aware that this is not a novel. A moment of pause, and he tips his head back to peer briefly up at F'inn (not that it does much good, given how little light there is). "If you want to know something… You can ask me."

F'inn tightens the arm around K'zre's shoulders in a reassuring fashion, his wrist twisting to brush his fingers lightly over the length of the healer-turned-weyrling's neck. "He adores her," he points out. "Yasminath is Nymionth's world." It is the second, though, that has his head tilting, full lips twitching up in a calm smile. "If he /evers/ starts thinking it is not worth it, he needs serious medication," he assures. It is the last, however, that has his smile broadening, his head tilting against the wall. "Are you happy?" Cause really, that is all he needs to know.

A sigh comes from Kez, accompanied by a drop of his shoulders that might have been half a shrug. "Someday," he decides, "It might have a different… intention behind it." But that is far, far down the road as far as K'zre is concerned. For now? The dragons can gallivant in the sky, twisting and turning and 'dancing' among the shadows and the stars, and Kez is not going to read anything more into it other than… the exuberance of children and friends. The question that comes? Not what he was expecting, and it gives him pause. Teeth find his lip as Kez chews on it absently, frowning as he really considers his answer before spilling it. "Yes," comes at last. "I am." And not just because of Yasminath, either. That ought to be clear enough.

"Good," F'inn states firmly. "That's really all that matters." And he's utterly and completely firm on that. Shifting his weight against the ground, he draws one knee up, his free arm draping atop it as he watches Yasminath and Nymionth twisting and turning through the sky. "They are having fun, we'll worry about future intentions when the time comes." He's perfectly relaxed and it shows in his face as he slants an easy smile at K'zre's face. "It feels like they've grown very, very fast," he sighs. "To fast." Hopefully there are not that many more sets of straps in Nymionth's immediate future. That's a /lot/ of leather on that bronze.

Kimmila and Varmiroth come walking across the bowl to the training grounds, the blue peering into the sky as he skips along, while Kimmila cradles a mug of hot cider. Spying the weyrlings, she veers in their direction, though hesitates as some of their conversation reaches her ears. Maybe she should leave them be.

Yasminath is a shadow among shadows; a darker botch against a star-studded sky. Her eyes glitter faintly in the dim light, but her own eyesight is much sharper than that of the humans. She spots Varmiroth before K'zre does and issues a warm welcome in the shine of moonlight and twinkling of bells. He is welcome to join them, if he wants! It's her greeting that draws the weyrling's attention, dark eyes darting from sky to ground as he seeks out the blue and his rider on the ground. Difficult to do, in the dim light, but he knows what he's looking for and focuses on the space beside them to improve his night vision. While K'zre doesn't move from the spot where he's at, cuddled up beneath a blanket and very much snuggled in with F'inn, there is a moment of hesitation and consideration for what it might look like. "They have grown fast," he agrees, though now his voice is distant and distracted, brow furrowed as he considers Kimmila in the dark. "But read some more of that dragonhealer text… they should be slowing down soon." He hopes, at least.

It's hard to miss Varmiroth and the dragon, and his rider's approach has F'inn immediately looking up. For a moment, his lips twitch in a wry smile, clearly the memory of his being searched flitting across his mind, before he's pushing to his feet, drawing K'zre with him, before offering a smart salute to the pair. He's become a stickler for formalities, clearly. "Ma'am, Varmiroth, evening." It may, or may not, be surprising that F'inn has a small chunk of a -certain- /massive/ log in his locker at all times. It's a memory he fully intends to do something with, eventually. Slowing down is welcome," he asides to K'zre with a sheepish smile. Overhead, Nymionth's greeting comes on the heels of Yasminath's, the bronze's mellow tones laced with quiet welcome.

Varmiroth doesn't have to be asked twice, as the small blue launches into the sky to quickly vanish among the darkness and stars. Below, Kimmila chuckles and returns the salute. "Sorry to interrupt," she says, even as she wanders closer. "How are they feeling?" she asks automatically, looking skyward.

K'zre is a bit slower on that formality, but between F'inn beside him and the return of his manners, he does manage to snap off a competent salute. Blame it on being surprised. "They— she," he amends, speaking for Yasminath rather than speaking for both, "is feeling fine. She's… much better in the air," he allows, unable to keep his gaze from going toward the sky despite the inability to really see the dragons from this distance. Yasminath? Thrilled that Varmiroth is joining them, crowing a happy welcome as she twists and turns and plays in the sky.

F'inn slants a grin at Kimmila, his shoulders rising and falling in an easy shrug. "They are fine." In the wake of the words, he glances at K'zre and smiles, his brows twitching lightly. "We were just about to break open a thermos if you want to join us?" He saw that klah, Kez. He intends to drink it. Settling back down on the ground, he holds the blanket out, waiting for Kez to settle before tucking it back around them. There is a chill in the air and his coat has gone mysteriously missing. >.> "It's good to see you and Varmiroth again," F'inn admits as he settles on the ground. "I owe you both a great deal of thanks." He would not be here without them. Overhead, Nymionth calls out his own greeting to the Varmiroth, his mellow tones laced with the lingering scent of roses.

Kimmila smiles. "Lots of them are," she reassures K'zre. Above, Varmiroth spins and circles, showing off his aerobatic prowess a bit. Not that it helps him in mating flights. He gets too easily distracted. She smiles at F'inn and lifts her mug of cider. "I'm good, thank you." But she will sit nearby, leaning against the wall and zipping up her coat. Then she laughs. "It was nothing," she dismisses, though she looks pleased. "Varmiroth is pretty good at Searching," she adds.

In K'zre's defense… it's a very warm jacket! And is smells nice. And he just likes it, alright? Harumph. But he hesitates before sinking back down to the blanket, tucking himself stiffly against F'inn and using a free hand to pull the blanket over him. For a long while he's silent, though he acknowledges Kimmila's words for flying with a slight nod and faint expression of appreciation for it. Yasminath has been tripping over her feet since the moment she hatched, and it still continues do this day. In the air, at least, she's graceful. It's the mention of Searching, and F'inn's thanks for it, that suddenly sparks understanding K'zre. "That was you?" he blurts, peering at Kimmila for a moment before catching himself at it. "I mean… The log… I didn't—" sigh.

Turning his gaze up to the dragons overhead, a mellow laugh spills past F'inn's lips. "Oh come on, you were horrified at him at asking me." He knows it. And really, he can't blame her, at all. "I was mess," he admits with a wry shake of his head. "Lazy. But, Nymionth won't stand for that, so. We're doing much better." With K'zre cuddling back in, F'inn drapes an arm over his shoulder, a relaxed sigh spilling past his lips. It's K'zre's outburst, however, that has him laughing. "Oh yes, it was her. And she delighted in making me push that blasted log /all/ the way to the barracks."

Kimmila laughs. "I wasn't horrified. I was surprised you impressed bronze…" She's honest, at least. "But I wasn't horrified. I trust my lifemate." Then a truly sly, almost wicked grin crosses her lips. "Yes, that was me. And yes, I did. Every step of the way, too."

Kez just curls his arms around his knees and considers Kimmila in silence. A slide of his gaze toward F'inn, the look lingers for a moment or two before he states, "You are not lazy anymore, and it is not just because of Nymionth." He's fairly certain of that, and not afraid to say so. But in the wake of the words, his gaze slides back to Kimmila in time to catch that almost wicked grin, inspiring a furrow of his brow and a faint frown at his mouth. "Interesting," is all he has to add for that, perhaps not trusting himself to say anything further on it.

"I think /everyone/ was surprised I impressed bronze," F'inn admits. "I /was/ shocked I impressed bronze." On a more serious note, however, he adds. "I am not going to let Nymionth down, though. He has massive potential Kimmila and I fully intend to see that I live up to that." It's K'zre's comment that has his expression softening, his chin dipping in a slow nod. "It means a lot that you think so, Kez," he notes as he smooths a hand down his back. "He was my toughest critic," he notes with a flashing smile to Kimmila. "But yeah… I think I've grown up alot." Which clearly, he needed to do.

Kimmila smiles. "Impression makes you grow up, no doubt about that." Just then Varmiroth lands nearby, rumbling softly. With a low exhale the bluerider pushes to her feet, dumping out her cider. "If you'll excuse me, we need to go check on something." With a small wave she takes quick steps to her blue's side and climbs into the straps, tucking the mug into a bag before she swiftly buckles herself in. Then the pair leap into the sky and quickly vanish between.

K'zre remains silent. Chin on his knee, gaze drifting between weyrling and bluerider, he simply listens to the conversation unfold and the declaration of potential. The necessity for maturity that Impression brings. At Varmiroth's landing, he straightens up briefly, a darting glance for the blue before he's issuing a low, "Good night," in farewell to Kimmila as she leaves. And then it is just them again, and Kez is somewhat at a loss for how to handle it. A moment or two, and he murmurs, "I wasn't that surprised."

F'inn nods his farewell to Kimmila, watching Varmiroth vanish between. It is K'zre's statement, though that catches and holds his attention, his brows furrowing as he leans back against the wall and pulls him in against his chest. F'inn knows exactly how to handle being alone, again. "No? Really?" It's not that he doesn't believe him, but he is aware of the fact that he spent a goodly measure of time going out of his way to try to shock him. "That… that really means a lot to me," he admits.

Being pulled back against F'inn certainly goes a long way towards relaxing K'zre again, even if he's somewhat tense and not so malleable just yet. But he settles in, puts his cheek to the warmth of the other weyrling's chest, and curls an arm around him as best he can. "Really," he acknowledges. "I told you," he recalls, somewhat assertively, "dragons don't Impress based on our understanding of what makes someone worthy. Or who /deserves/ it. Even though I do think you are worth. Were worthy…" he amends, quickly trying to make his point because Kez can hear how those words sound, and that's not how he meant it. But it's just, not happening, and there's a frustrated sound for the effort when he finally decides, "Never mind," and promptly shuts up.

At the never mind, F'inn reaches down, his fingers curling around K'zre's chin to tilt his face up. "I don't want to never mind," he whispers. "I want you to take as much time as you need to say what you want to say, Kez." In the wake of the words, he studies his face for a moment before brushing a kiss over his lips. That brush ends up lingering a bit longer then F'inn had intended, but he has no complaint on that front. "Sorry," he whispers once he draws back enough to speak. Definately not the place for that.

It might not be the place for such things, but K'zre is not going to be complaining about it either. And neither is Yasminath, who remains pointedly in the air and cavorting with Nymionth despite her weyrling being thoroughly and completely distracted by the soft brush of lips and the lingering kiss. At its end, there's a shallow little inhale from Kez and a moment spent hauling his thoughts back to reality to understand why F'inn is apologizing for kissing him. He remains just as he is, chin tipped up and mouth perfectly poised for kissing, despite the draw back for speaking and the awareness that here, in the training field? Probably not the most discrete of places to be affectionate. But his eyes search F'inn's in the dark, and after a moment of contemplation Kez states very firmly, "You are more than worthy of a bronze dragon."

There is no way that F'inn is going to pass that up, particularly not when K'zre says what he says. His response comes in the return of warm lips, against the former healer's. This time, however, the kiss is deeper, one hand raising to tangle his fingers in dark hair as he takes his time exploring K'zre's mouth. It's not the place for it. He knows that. But, Yasminath is offering no protests, Nymionth is behind him utterly, and he is not about to resist what he wants to do more then breathing. Eventually though, the realization that if he does not stop, does not take a breath, things will go farther then either of them can afford where they are at the moment, has his head raising, blue eyes intently searching K'zre's face. "It is not just Nymionth I want to be worthy of," he whispers.

K'zre is wholeheartedly returning that kiss. Leaning into F'inn, his hands curl into the fabric of his shirt to try, impossibly, to pull him closer. The fingers in his hair get a shallow sound in the back of his throat, something faint and just on the cusp of a moan. By the time it breaks, Kez has lost all sense of time, place and possibly his own name; his breathing fast and shallow as he attempts to reconcile what it is that has brought a halt to all of that. Yasminath is a dim presence in the back of his mind, mildly curious about what has him so… flustered, but not concerned that it means he is forgetting about her. It is only after those first shallow, chilly breaths are taken that enough of reality settles to have him grateful that they're not still kissing. The look in his eyes is more than indicative of his current state, but the flush of color to his cheeks is entirely for the words spoken rather than the desire racing through his bloodstream. "I'm… I'm not…" he wants to protest, to firmly argue that he, K'zre, is not anyone that F'inn should worry about impressing. That he's not worthy of that regard; that he is just a healer, and a greenrider, and not anything more important. But the words don't come, and rather than try to force them, Kez just closes his eyes and tucks his head up against F'inn's neck.

"You," F'inn assures as he smooths a hand over K'zre's hair. "Are." He has no doubt of that. He knows it in parts of him that have nothing to do with sense or reason, and he knows it parts of him that do. "You definately are." In the wake of the words, his head tilts back, pale eyes watching the dragons dancing overhead as he combs his fingers through dark hair. Everything. The word goes unuttered, F'inn having no desire to fluster the healer more then he has already. But it is there, dancing like the dragons in the back of his mind.

No further argument is attempted, but that does not mean that K'zre did not hear and understand. Head tucked against F'inn's throat, Kez's response comes in the curl of his arms and the firm wiggle into a tighter embrace despite the impropriety of such a thing, encouraging the combing of fingers through his hair with a faint sigh of something like content.


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