Who D'ax, Lhiannon
What Azirath catches Fjainoith. D'ax and Hana catch up after a diverting start to their day.
When Winter, 2726
Where Guest Weyr, Fort Weyr

 

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Disclaimer: Adult themes.


Fort Weyr - Guest Weyr
The guest weyr at Fort has been given as many conveniences as possible. A large, comfortable-looking bed rests against the back wall, the linens changed on a regular basis to keep them fresh. For temporary storage of personal belongings a sturdy footlocker can be found at its foot, and a table and a quartet of chairs provide a place for visitors to entertain guests if they so wish. The floor has been covered with a large rug and the walls are draped in tapestries depicting various scenes from Pern's grand history, all to help ward off the chill of the stone in the winter months. There's even a small ice chest with an attached cupboard for storage of cool drinks and energizing snacks for the weyr's occupants.


This time, Lhiannon thought she recognized subtle changes in Fjainoith before she reached a state of readiness that was glaringly obvious and made small preparations in advance — quietly making temporary arrangements to do work that kept her at Fort, showing up in the training yard to work out alone at hours when all but the latest of shifts might be asleep, adding a spare set of clothing to the footlocker in the guest weyr on her best estimate of the day prior. She's in the middle of an early morning run an hour before dawn when Fjainoith abruptly heads for the snowy skies in an unmistakable manner. Her tactics probably come as less of a surprise for those who also chased in her first, but the witch's green's exultation in her display of power leads to an overconfident move; turning to go between two suitors finds her wings instead tangling with Azirath's. She's as taken aback as he might be, but her fury bleeds into the more immediate sort of passion that's overtaken her. Down they fall as Rukbat rises, and Lhiannon's as fierce in her coupling with Azirath's rider while the dragons have their hold. Clarity doesn't return to her until there's a lull after round two; she sits up after clearing her throat, fingers hunting for purchase on the nearest sheet so that she can draw it up past her waist. Blue eyes shift toward the doorway, then to the bed's other occupant. There's enough illumination for making out features, at least, and a flash of what could be relief passes over hers. A quietly hoarse greeting and acknowledgment get wrapped into a single syllable: "D'ax."

Thank the Egg for instinct or Azirath might not know what to do with Fjainoith once he's gotten himself tangled up with her. Fortunately it requires minimal conscious thought after they're twined securely together and their riders are working on entangling themselves much the same. Azirath might not be as, uh, masculine as his rider, but he's enough of a hedonist to thoroughly enjoy this endeavor. D'ax showed up put together well enough that he was likely headed to train with the guardsmen, but didn't quite make it before having to seek out this very weyr. He's not particularly put together now, of course, but he looks very satisfied there in the bed. "Hana," he rumbles back, eyes blinking as though he might be slightly disoriented now that he's trying to consciously focus his attention. A hand reaches out, still, to settle against the small of the woman's back. Tender? Maybe more possessive as he's shifting and reaching across her hip with the other arm in some attempt to gather her in closer and use her thigh as a pillow.

Fjainoith distances herself fairly quickly from Azirath once they're back on solid ground, the cold of her presence still so intense that it's almost hot even as it begins to recede to something more like her usual, ubiquitous chill while she seeks a place in the sun with a little huff that seems to be directed elsewhere — not at her mate-of-the-moment, at least, who is merely considered in silence through whirling eyes that gradually slow. Hana, still floating through the biochemistry of those last vestiges of flight lust, makes a little noise that probably echoes the amount of satisfaction in the bronzerider's look as the warmth of his hand meets her back. A second's thought later, she lets him pull her closer and pillow himself as he wishes, tilting a thoughtful look down toward him with a smile that's more apparent in her eyes than the little, half-drowsy curve of her mouth — a relaxed expression that's rather at odds with the way she awkwardly folds an arm across her chest after cautiously tugging the sheet a little higher. Still, she sounds casual enough; there's even some amusement that filters through her, "We interrupted your morning routine, I believe." Sorry, not sorry. Pushing a section of hair behind her ear, that motion turns into a lift to muffle a soft yawn against the back of one hand.

Azirath is a very happy bronze, indeed, once he's gathered some of his wits about him and settled luxuriously in the sun. There's no particular desire to intrude on the green's recovery, but neither is he completely unaware of her, even if his lids are drooping dangerously over his eyes. D'ax answers with a grunt before he can put together actual words. "For the better." He's not sorry, either, so clearly there was nothing more pressing. Not that there was much choice in the matter. "You good?" is a bit of an afterthought, lifting his head briefly to glance up at her face, given that she doesn't seem to be not good.

"Oh?" It's a quiet prompt of friendly thank you for something else to focus on interest while she shifts slightly, adjusting her posture so that she's less sitting-up and more half-reclined against the headboard, nudging a pillow behind her back with the soft breath afterward of someone who sought a more comfortable position and found it. Almost primly, "This, " with a little gesture to encompass the concept of sharing a bed, "isn't usually part of mine either, I admit." Hana's pink-cheeked but manages to hold eye contact when theirs meet. "I'm alright, " she answers. "I doubt I'll need an infirmary visit. — You're not hurt, either, I hope." He probably sounds comfortable enough to her, but she still scans over what she can see of him for abrasions as superficial as scratches that could have dug deeply through the throes of Fjainoith-fueled enthusiasm.

"I could stand to make it a more routine part of my morning, I won't deny," D'ax says as Hana adjusts herself. "Though I'm not sure the outlet would do me any good in training." He says that with just enough humor. "Good," for the state of her wellbeing. And for the state of his own, "Nothing that won't heal soon enough. Wouldn't have taken you for the type, if I'm being honest." Then again, he knows perfectly well it wasn't just her, so maybe he's only curious to see how she reacts to his presumed assumptions.

The blonde's mouth twitches faintly, a (mostly) silent laugh escaping through her nose. "Probably not, " agrees Hana for the potential effects of such exercise prior to the more routine sort. "I had to skip my morning run last time, " she recalls, even though her first flight took place during dinner. The arm that's awkwardly curled about her midsection loosens a little; the harper's eyebrows lift just enough to shade her expression somewhere between serious and not-so. "Most wouldn't, " she says lightly of types, studying him with a half-smile, "or that I'd be Fjainoith's, " while they're being honest. (Really, what does their pairing say about her?) "And here I assumed you were the type to have all of this, in general, be part of your mornings regularly." There's just enough humor permitted to creep into her words, too, perhaps accompanied by a touch of sheepishness.

If the green pairing says anything about Hana, D'ax would have to admit that his pairing to Azirath says something about him. And he's not going to do that right now. What he will admit is, "I'm not going to say this has never happened in the morning. But this particular routine," well, maybe not this particular routine, Azirath definitely does not win flights on a regular basis thus far, "trends much more nocturnal. Helps a man sleep, you know. Relax." And D'ax is certainly relaxed now, even if he doesn't currently seem at risk of drifting off at any moment.

She does not, in fact, know — but Lhiannon can extrapolate, even if her primary takeaway from listening to him follows on the heels of a noncommittal, polite sort of sound. "It's not always easy, winding down at night. I'd suppose you wouldn't have too difficult of a time, though, not with all the training you do." Nuanced in there might be an unspoken, indirect inquiry: is he having trouble sleeping? It's a near-futile endeavor to pluck at the sheet that doesn't quite stay perhaps as far up as her holdbred sensitivities might wish, but the effort is nonetheless made now and again.

About some things, D'ax is observant. He's almost certainly noticed the thing with the sheet by now, but what does it mean if he shifts in such a way that it's pulled a bit further down, then? "Some days are better than others. Sparring can be hit or miss." Snort. "But, for the most part, not too much trouble." He draws in a deep breath, then sighs it out as he releases the woman to pull himself up into a similar position, leaning broad shoulders against the headrest. But he's not at all worried about his bare chest. "Don't try to tell me you don't have men lining up to give you a… hand."

Presently, it means that Hana flushes a little and does her level best to talk her way through the increased awareness that comes from his movements, hands withdrawing to primly fold at her waist while the sheet falls where it will. "Isn't sparring always hit or miss?" That's the harper seizing on the irresistible opportunity for wordplay, apparently amused whether or not her brand of humor finds a similar reception in the man next to her. A sideways look slides to his chest, then up to his face. "Not the sort I think I'd prefer to spend considerable time with, and certainly not as many as you might suppose, " she admits with a wry smile, a gentle shrug (which does nothing to help the position of the sheet, of course). Delicately, "It all seems a little more complicated when you think it might be nice to have more than just a — hand, as you say."

"Exactly," says D'ax with a laugh, stretching his arm across his chest, pointed away from her, before relaxing again with a sound of satisfaction. "Is it complicated? It can get complicated, certainly." Even D'ax can admit that. "If you focus on one person for too long, or something. But anything more casual than that shouldn't be complicated, should it?" Clearly D'ax does not give an over abundance of thought to random hookups, and has at least a little bit of difficulty considering why someone else might give the prospect more.

More casual. "I suppose not. The concept is sometimes not entirely without appeal, " Lhiannon says slowly, "to have the wherefores be - more-or-less irrelevant." Perhaps, one can be alone and yet, not lonely; this relative anonymity is of a brand she's apparently yet to try on for size. Lips pursing thoughtfully, she lapses into what has the potential to fall into a heavier sort of silence on her end — save that she breaks it with a lighter, "I'm sure I'd never have believed anyone who told me two turns ago that we'd end up here, " whether with their 'bigger, smarter firelizards' or in their present situation, "but I can't say I've complaints." Unlike her stomach, to whose vocalization she aims a mock-frown that dissolves into a low, not-quite awkward laugh. "I hope she doesn't make a habit of going up before mealtimes." First, dinner; then, breakfast. "Did you get a chance to grab something earlier before you were diverted in this direction?"

"You do do this outside of flights, don't you? At least on occasion?" Maybe D'ax should have started there. Then again, he's easy enough to lead into something else entirely. "I would have believed I'd have impressed a bronze, and made it through weyrlinghood unscathed. I might not have believed who the bronze was," he says with a laugh that he probably doesn't even realize holds a note of affection. It's when Lhiannon's stomach is growling that D'ax finally shifts toward the edge of the bed and up onto his feet. He takes a moment to stretch his arms up over his head before he's looking around for where his clothes ended up without a care in the world for the fact that he's not currently wearing them. "I don't usually eat until midday. Might need to see what's still about, though. You want me to have something sent over for you?"

"Not as much as some, " replies the greenrider easily (truthfully!), which is really to say: not at all, but she gives him a small curve of a smile that could be read in the affirmative; he's free to draw his own conclusions. It widens for the affection that slips out with his laugh, even if her expression grows a little distant as she glances toward the doorway. That she offers no immediate rejoinder, no similar display (however unwitting) of appreciation for her own partner could be chalked up to wool-gathering just as easily as the notion that this relationship may well be as complicated as the very human ones they were discussing. A breath later, Lhiannon's a little slower to rise from the sheets in search of what she discarded earlier, one hand carefully clutching a sheet loosely to her. "Oh, how kind, " the blonde answers with a flash of a smile over her shoulder while surreptitiously wriggling back into her soft, loose athleisure attire she favors while running, "but I think I'll head over shortly or wait until lunch, myself." There's a to-do list for her to follow in the aftermath of their short-lived, not-unpleasant pillow talk, after all. Azirath's win may have been entirely unexpected for this pair, but Hana offers the sincere words that her dragon will not as nimble fingers finish buttoning up her shirt, frame half-turned away in some semblance of modesty: "Thank you, D'ax."

He focuses on pulling on his pants so he's not standing there watching Lhiannon getting dressed. D'ax is capable of manners, he just chooses when and where he ends up expressing them. There's another good-humored laugh when she points out his kindness, and no complaints about her wanting to manage the whens and wheres of her own food instead of taking him up on it. It's the thank you that has him looking over at her again, though, considering once he's pulled on his shirt. "My pleasure, Hana." It only sounds a little suggestive. "Azirath agrees." He's sliding his feet into his boots, leaving the laces to deal with later, before heading on his way out, but not before offering, oh so helpfully, "Feel free to reach out if you ever need a hand."

Lhiannon's laugh follows D'ax and his opportunistic offer out of the doorway with an amused, "Of course, " in parting. Of course. At length, she, too, makes her exit … post-sock-hunt.


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