Who K'zre, N'sir
What K'zre and N'sir talk while battling fevers and insomnia.
When Winter - Month 1 of Turn 2719
Where R'sner & N'sir's Weyr, Half Moon Bay Weyr


Half Moon Bay Weyr - Inner Weyr
Just inside the weyr's entrance, a series of stone steps leads to a shallow landing before turning sharply to the right. The stone staircase hugs the weyr wall on one side, while an iron railing on the other allows a view of the space below while preventing falls. Each step has been carefully cut, the stairs level and precisely spaced to ensure ease of travel.

While the stone stairs continue downward, the first landing spreads out into the main room of the weyr. The walls have been left rough and raw, untouched except for an occasional nook or shelf cut into the stone for the collection of clutter. The floor has been smoothed and cut to resemble tiles, the pattern both decorative as well as practical; texture added to prevent slipping on otherwise smooth stone. To the right, the stone has been cut away to fit in an old cast iron stove, a welcome heat source on cold nights. Along the left, a wooden platform rises three feet off the ground and serves as a space for seating, a large cushion and several pillows added for comfort and to encourage relaxation. Overall, the room is cozy and inviting.

Toward the back of the room and separated from the main area by a dark-stained wooden panel, lies the bedroom. A large bed dominates the space, dressed in cream-colored linens. A similarly hued textured throw provides warmth and is complimented by several pillows. Dark-stained wooden nightstands sit to either side, offering only enough space for a few candles and a spare knick-knack or two. To the left of the bed and up a small step, a large nook offers a space for a wooden wardrobe, as well as a small writing desk and chair. Concealed behind a curtain, a larger closet looks to have been recently cut into the stone.

In the main room, directly beneath the stairs of the entrance, a natural split in the rock has been painstakingly carved into a stone archway that leads into a large bathroom. A rich, darkly stained wooden shelving unit sits directly inside and provides a place for towels, jars of bath salts, scented oils and luxurious soaps. A large stone tub rests at an angle to the wall, fed by free-standing pipes. A small nook holds the sink and, cleverly hidden around the bend, a toilet.

Continuing down the initial stairway, the passage grows noticeably darker and more confined. The walls close around the stone stairs before spilling into a low ceilinged room. Gravel has been utilized as the flooring of choice, complementing the rough, uncut stone of the walls. Very little has been done to modernize the space, and what light there is comes from candles littered about the room. Along the back wall are a series of pillows for use as seating; large cream-colored cushions on the floor while an assortment of smaller pillows are arranged as a backrest. The space is dark, quiet, and distinctly intimate.

It is late in Half Moon, well past dark, and feels even later for K'zre. While he's definitely tired, he just can't seem to get to sleep. Despite laying quietly for hours, willing his thoughts to settle and his mind to go quiet so that he can sleep, it just… doesn't happen. He struggles to sleep normally, and given the foreign environment and the foreign bed (that isn't really a bed, at least not a bed he's at all accustomed to), it's just not going to happen. After another hour without success, he decides to admit defeat and get up to go look for something to help. Typically, this comes in the form of tea, and while he's not certain that R'sner and N'sir would have what he's looking for, poking around in the weyr is at least a better option than laying there doing nothing. Carefully, so as not to disturb F'inn, he slips from the nest of pillows and out of the den.

With his fever spiking, N'sir had slipped out of bed earlier, tied on a sarong and headed down to the living cavern for ice. The last thing he wants to risk is his fever inspiring nightmates in R'sner, or the weyrlingmaster waking up to him being overly hot. With Elianneth safetly settled on the ledge with Toith and the visiting dragons, he pads barefoot back into the weyr, exhaling a whimpering sigh as he presses ice up against the back of his neck. It is the movement from the corner of his eye that brings dark eyes sweeping toward K'zre, a smile immediately tracing over his lips. "Couldn't sleep?"

Why N'sir's presence should startle him is a mystery. This is his weyr, after all. And yet, the sight of him has K'zre jumping, just a little bit, and looking briefly guilty. For no reason other than he happens to have been caught walking around after dark? Who knows. And while he had been heading in the general direction of the stove, he pauses as though to reconsider where he ought to go. If he ought to go anywhere at all. A glance sweeps over the other greenrider, a moment of pause given between when the question is asked, and the answer given. "No," he agrees. "I couldn't." A few seconds of pause, indecision written in the furrow of his brow and the hesitation that comes before he states, "I was hoping there would be… sometimes tea can help." And while undoubtedly, he has exactly what he needs back home in Fort, it does little good for him here.

Cuddling the bucket of ice against his chest, N'sir tilts his head as he listens, his lips turning up in an immediate smile. "I told your father you were a tea drinker," he notes in pleased tones. "We don't," he adds as he heads into the 'kitchen' area and sets the ice aside before opening a cabinet. "drink it much, ourselves, but… I had no way of knowing what kind you would want, so I got some of all the flavors they had." Which, there is a LOT of tea in there. "Are you hungry?" Stepping back from the cabinet so K'zre can rummage, he fills the kettle and sets it atop the small stove. "I'll be sure to grab meat for the evening meal tomorro- today? as well." They don't really eat alot of that, either.

That bucket definitely has K'zre's attention, though he refrains from asking for the time being. Bare feet pad almost silently over the stone as he follows N'sir into the little kitchen area to peruse the selection of teas. "Oh…" because that's a lot of tea, and he was not expecting it. "I… you didn't have to do that," he notes, even as he starts reaching for various tins to open and inspect the contents. But while he might forget to say it, he's certainly appreciative of the selection and soon has three separate options set aside so that he can create a blend. Hungry? "Not really," he admits. "If you don't normally eat meat…" but Kez isn't entirely certain how to say what it is he wants to say and, after the pause has stretched on too long to be comfortable, he gives up the attempt. A sideways glance at N'sir, a brief study before he asks, "Are you still feverish?" It's mostly a rhetorical question; K'zre totally sees that bucket of ice and the lack of clothing (other than that sarong) and has correctly surmised the motivation for both.

"Of course I did," N'sir assures with a relaxed smile. "You and F'inn are guests in our home, it's my job to make sure you are comfortable." Because at the end of the day, N'sir is totally the wife. As he speaks, he steps over to pull more ice from the bucket, resting it at the nape of his neck beneath his hair. The lengthy pauses? They don't phase him in the least, not with R'sner being his weyrmate. "I haven't really been able to handle much meat since Elianneth's first blooding," he admits with a quietly mellow laugh. "Fortunately, R'sner is alright with that." It's the last that has his nose wrinkling, his expression turning sheepish. "It's going to get worse before it gets better. It's just easier to slip out of bed to avoid worrying your father."

Why their being guests should require N'sir to acquire every tea flavor available on the off chance that K'zre or F'inn might have wanted one, is not something that makes sense to Kez. But rather than ask, he simply accepts it and moves on. Each of the tins selected gets opened, the contents carefully pinched out in equal quantities until he's got a blend mixed to his satisfaction. "Yasminath did not blood," he recalls, tying his makeshift teabag closed to secure it. "I kept waiting for her to wake, and be ravenous, but she just… didn't. She just… rose." A frown and a shake of his head. "I have never treated someone for a fever induced by their dragon before," he admits, "But I can try to make something to reduce it?" He's just not sure how successful it will be. "It's weird to hear that," comes as the second admittance. "My father."

"If there is something that would reduce it? I'd be very grateful," N'sir admits as he leans comfortably against the counter. "I know it worries R'sner more then he's willing to admit." And, of course, that worries N'sir. It's the last though, that has his smile softening, dark eyes warming. "Is it? He's a good man," he assures. "The best I've ever met, at least. I'm… I'm really glad that you two are getting to know each other. He needs more joy in his life." In the wake of the words, he snags another handful of ice, exhaling a relieved sigh as he slips it under his hair. At the mention of Yasminath not blooding, he nods. "They're all different. And really? It seems like Nymionth is pretty determined to stay by her side. That's.. That's rare, you're lucky. Course, Elianneth has Toith, as well. They're completely inseperable. Barring, of course, when they rise."

"There are herbs that can be steeped and drunk that will help reduce fever. You have a few in the teas, but the more potent would be in the infirmary." And of course, K'zre did not bring anything of the sort with him. "Tomorrow," he determines, adopting a similar posture to N'sir's (though he doesn't look nearly as casual about it) against the counter. "I will see if the Healer here will allow me to borrow some. It's not a pleasant taste," he warns. "But you can add a bit of honey to help sweeten it." Of R'sner's character he does not immediately respond, remaining still as he studies N'sir in quiet contemplation. "He does… seem to be a good man," he settles at last. "And he loves you very much. He said so." A peek at the kettle, and Kez settles back once more as he waits for the water to come to a boil. "He has always been like that," he recalls, for Nymionth. "Even before… Even from the beginning. It seems normal, now." Of Toith and Elianneth, he cannot think of a worth response, though there's a glance toward the ledge as if he might be able to peer through the darkness and catch the pair of greens. "Better that they get along, than be territorial or disagree," he decides.

N'sir flashes a pleased smile at the assurance, dark eyes slanting a glance at K'zre's face. "He's my world," he admits. "Your father." Drawing in a slow breath, he releases it on a sigh tracing the ice over his neck. "I'm glad that you are alright with our relationship," he admits. "I was worried my age would bother you." In the wake of the words, his gaze sweeps in the direction of the bedroom, his expression softening. "I had to work really hard to get through his shields," he admits. It's the mention of the herbs from the infirmary that has him nodding quickly. "I'll try anything," he notes with a chuckle. "This is the only part of proddy that really bothers me." It's the last though that has him smiling a bit more. "Oh, I agree. It was like that with Eli and Toith, too. Eli took to Toith right out of the egg." Who knew dragons had hero worship. "He's pretty devoted to you, as well," he notes with a tilt of his head toward the den. "Your bronzerider. It says a lot for him to come down here to talk to your father. Have you know each other your whole lives?"

A snort, and K'zre wonders, "Why should it bother me? I'm not the one involved in it. You're an adult, and I am hardly qualified to comment on another couple's relationship. You are young," he admits, though it's followed with a dismissive sort of shrug. Because it really doesn't bother him. And he'd likely find it baffling for anyone else to take issue with it, as well. A yawn is stifled, one hand pressed to his mouth before he glares daggers toward the kettle. As though willpower alone will make the water boil faster. "I never knew it could be so…" a pause as he searches for the right word, "… Potent. But at least I did not get sick." Even if there is some sympathy there, for N'sir's current situation. Kez isn't sure that craving sugar isn't as bad. The mention of F'inn has him unconsciously glancing toward the den, and he shifts just a touch against the counter. "He… yeah," for coming down to talk to R'sner, though that's all Kez will say about it. But there's a shake of his head for the mention of knowing him, and a murmured, "No. We met a few months before the… before Kayeth's clutch was laid and we were asked to Stand."

N'sir nods as he listens, his hands lowering to brace on the counter beneath his hips. "I wouldn't say I was sick," he suggests. "I don't feel sick, at least. I mean, hot and a little tired, but…" Following the line of K'zre's gaze, his lips twitch in a faint smile, his chin dipping in a nod. "It makes it interesting, being involved with someone while a weyrling," he admits. "Course," he adds with a laugh. "It was a bit tense for us. R'sner was my weyrlingmaster," he notes with a wink. "He kept me on the right path, though." Mostly. >.> "I guess you all have your weyr settled? You know if you need anything for it, just let us know? I already have plans to send up a bunch of pillows."

"You have a fever." And so, in K'zre's world, that means he is ill. But he's not going to debate the semantics — especially as he is not the one currently experiencing this particular proddy-induced side effective. "I craved sugar," which, from the tone of his voice, is a terrible, terrible thing, and worthy of horror. "And felt… like I couldn't control my emotions." Another little grimace, a wrinkle of his nose, and he rolls his shoulders as if to toss off the memory of it. "I didn't like him… like that," he adds, as though to correct any misunderstandings. "Not for a long time. He… he was different before Nymionth." And Kez was kind of involved with someone else. Sort of. "Not completely different, but more…" a frown. A little sigh. But Kez doesn't really know how to explain it. Partly because he does not understand it himself. "But I don't know what I would do, now, if…" but no. That's a line of thought that Kez won't travel down, let alone discuss. So instead, he steps forward to check on the kettle and, finding the water boiling away, carefully pulls it from the fire and turns to get his mug in order. "We do…" comes in answer to the weyr being settled, though the follow-up of what they might need has him going mute once again, discomfort written in the mild tension across his shoulders and the sudden interest in pouring hot water into his mug. After a few seconds of silence, and some serious contemplation that really shouldn't have taken so long, he manages a passable, "Thank you."

"Oh, that's the worst," N'sir admits in regards to getting emotional. "I'll get more and weepy as the days go by, myself. It's frustrating," he admits. Trailing off, he tilts his head as he listens. It's the tension that has N'sir reaching for more ice, his tones gentling. "You're both family now," he points out. "I don't.. I don't have a very nice family, so I spoil the one that is." And clearly, he thinks K'zre is nice. Of course he does, K'zre is like R'sner. While Kez fixes his tea, N'sir twists around and grabs a handful of grapes, tossing one in his mouth immediately. "If I'm being to invasive, or making you uncomfortable, just let me know, alright? I mean, at the end of the day, I'd make you a stack pillows and quilts for anything that would help with the fever."

"F'inn is better at this than I am." And for one irrational moment, K'zre entertains the idea of going in and waking him up, so that he can come and be the social one. The one that says the right things, and can graciously accept gifts, and knows how to answer that assertion that they are family. Because K'zre doesn't know how to do any of those things. "You don't have to make anything. It's my job." Even if he is not acting in the capacity of healer right now. Not really. "F'inn's family is also very… generous." And he doesn't know how to handle that either. "It's… different." Unusual. Unexpected and unfamiliar. "It was just my mother, and me," he recalls. "And a foster family but… they weren't really family."

"Better how?" Curious, and clearly confused, N'sir offers a reassuring smile. When it dawns on him what K'zre means, he exhales a quietly husky laugh. "You're fine. The first turn your father and I were together? He rarely uttered more then a grunt at a time." It's the mention of families and K'zre's situation that has N'sir nodding. "I know how that goes," pushing off the counter, he pours himself a glass of wine before resettling in place. "My family was…is… Not nice, at all. Abusive, you know? Violent. But, that just has me more determined to build our family into something better, more loving and supportive. We all deserve it. Do you like them? F'inn's family?"

K'zre is not convinced, but he's also disinclined to argue about how terrible he is at being a social human. He's also apparently terrible at figuring out an adequate response to N'sir's description of his biological family, though there's a furrow of his brow and a somewhat disapproving expression. Not for N'sir, of course. For his family. But he can't think of what the proper thing to say would be, so he settles for saying nothing at all and covering the pause with a very slow, very careful sip of his tea. At its conclusion, he simply murmurs, "My mother had certain… expectations of me. I'm pretty sure I fell far short of each and every one of them." And while he might say that he 'doesn't care', the truth is that he kind of does. "She was never cruel. Not intentionally. But she isn't… soft. She taught me a lot. And she made sure I had a very… thorough education, even when I protested." Which he is somewhat glad for now, even if he hated it at the time. But F'inn's family? "I do," he decides. "All of them seem very… nice. Warm. Welcoming." And it's a little terrifying.

N'sir takes another swallow of his wine, his braid spilling over his shoulder as he gives a slow nod of his head. "It's never fun when you can never do enough to please people," he admits. He knows that feeling all to well. "For me it was mostly.. My father doesn't approve.. He can't.." trailing off, he shrugs and lightly clears his throat. "He is very opposed to my prefering men." It's the last though, that inspires a smile, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good. They're in Fort, right? So you all have a support system there? Course, if you need us, for anything, we're three heartbeats away."

A slide of K'zre's gaze and a long study of the other greenrider. Because that is something that Kez can definitely understand and appreciate, and it has him even looking a bit empathetic where he might otherwise not. "My mother doesn't either," he murmurs, a slow sip of tea taken after it's said. "She doesn't… know about me. Or F'inn," he admits, and this time it's somewhat apologetic. Somewhat guiltily said. "It isn't that I am… it's not that I care what she thinks," he asserts. "But she's… she's not /around/." And when she was? He hadn't felt the need to tell her. Because there was no one in his life. And now that there is someone… "I'm not sure how to tell her." It is not something that causes him undue anxiety aside from the logistics. He's come to terms with his mother's inability to accept this part of him. And even if it hurts, he won't admit it. "They are in Fort," he agrees. But a support system? That has him staring at the fire and looking deeply contemplative; a furrow across his brow and an obvious frown at his mouth.

"It's hard," N'sir admits as he watches that frown. "To suddenly have people who want to be in your life and love you." He gets it. He's been there, himself. Glancing at his wine, he draws in a breath, his head giving a slow shake. "My father doesn't.. Well, I don't think he even knows I impressed," he admits. "It's probably for the best." He doubts R'sner would be thrilled and, given his father's tendencies? There would probably be a fight. "Don't rush it," he suggests. "I mean it will happen when it happens? He.. um… he's good to you, right? F'inn?" Aware that that is probably a dangerous question, he adds. "You are happy?"

There would definitely be a fight. Even if dragonrider's don't fight. R'sner would make an exception. But K'zre won't tell him. Because it's not his place to do so. He does offer a subtle nod, a little acknowledgement and agreement for the words. It is hard. It's hard, and scary, and Kez doesn't know if he should enjoy it or steel himself for what he considers to be the inevitable loss of it. But rather than /speak/ on it, he just sips his tea and watches the fire, and listens to N'sir speak. "I'm sure my mother knows," he decides with a snort. "But I doubt she came to visit. She won't. Unless she has another reason to be in Fort." He's pretty certain of that. It's the question about F'inn that draws his gaze back to N'sir, and then a flicker of a glance toward the den and a soft, fleeting smile that undoubtedly answers the question even before K'zre speaks. "He is a very good person. One of the best," he decides. As for being happy? "Yes. I am. He… he makes me feel safe."

It's that smile that tells N'sir /everything/ he needs to know and it's reflected in the shine of dark eyes. "That's all that matters," he assures. "As long as the two of you are happy and support one another? The rest will fall in to place." Taking a swallow of his wine, he glances up and chuckles quietly. "It's nice watching the two of you," he admits. "You orbit around each other even when you are not touching." And coming from N'sir, the queen of lap sitting? That's saying a lot. "You could always invite her," he allows. "If you feel that is important? Does F'inn know that she's not aware of your relationship?"

The idea of inviting Lezkanne to come and bear witness to the fact that her son has yet again disappointed her is not one that K'zre is going to entertain. There's a shake of his head and a scrunch of his nose, and a general look of disinterest in the idea. "No. She will come when she wants to come." And he's not going to hurry her along. "It's not something we've really… discussed," he admits, though there's only a little bit of discomfort for it. A pause, a longer sip of tea as K'zre sorts through how he can best explain. "I have no interest in her opinion on my relationship. And as it doesn't matter, I don't… I didn't…" a press of his lips into a line, a moment of hesitation and then he wonders, "Should he be know?"

"I don't know," N'sir admits in quiet tones. "I would say that it really isn't important for him to know right now. There's little point in upsetting him, particularly if it's not something you will have to deal with any time soon." And really? Given the fact that he has not told R'sner the unpleasant details of his own father? He's pretty okay with that thought. "Right now? Focus on being happy together, that's the most important thing. You all start training once you get back to Fort?"

"You think it will upset him?" And while N'sir might be encouraging him toward the opposite, the idea that the news could be upsetting has K'zre reconsidering his current silence on it. There's a longer look toward the den, a little furrow creasing his brows as he briefly worries over this while sipping his tea. A little nod comes to acknowledge those words about training. "I'm not quite sure what that will entail," he admits. "But F'inn has grand ideas about jumping from dragonback with skiis and repelling down cliffs and even off of Nymionth and…" His sigh says it all. "There will likely be survival training," which he's not worried about, "And emergency medical training…" first responder stuff. "It will be… challenging."

"I suspect that anything that could possibly upset you, or worry you, will upset him," N'sir notes with a glance toward the den. "He seems pretty determined to protect you." Finishing off his wine, he sets the glass on the counter, one hand raising to brush over the back of his neck. "I could never do it," he admits regarding search and rescue. Course, there is NO CHANCE R'sner would even entertain the thought of letting him jump off Elianneth, or repell from anything. Ever. And he knows it. "Challenging is good. The two of you seem to compliment each other in that regard.. The physical and the mental aspect of the jobs."

"Protect me?" This gets another frown, as if the expression is permanently etched on his face, and a longer look into his mug of tea. But whether K'zre agrees, or disagrees, or whether he's given it much consideration at all, he doesn't comment further. "I cannot imagine doing anything different," he decides. Even if he hasn't really started yet. "And F'inn is adamant. It suites him. I couldn't imagine him flying transport." A longer swallow of tea, now that it's cooled rather significantly. "I just want to be useful. And I want Yasminath to be useful. I will always be a healer, and the… Search and Rescue wings always need a healer's skills."

"I know how you feel," N'sir admits quietly. "You're father was going to do transport to stay in Igen with me. I couldn't.. There was no way. R'sner is a weyrlingmaster, nothing else feels right." Drawing in a slow breath, he slants a glance at K'zre, the frown inspiring in a quiet smile. "By protect, I am not implying you cannot take care of yourself, K'zre. But emotionally, I think he would rather you be happy and content with life, then hurting."

A moment of hesitation, the sucking in of a breath in preparation to speak… but whatever K'zre might have said he seems to think better of, letting the words die off before even giving them life. Instead, he downs the last of his tea with a final tip of his mug. "I'm going to try and sleep," he decides, the confession a quiet murmur meant to act as an excuse and explanation for his departure. And while others might have thought to thank N'sir for his company, and his words, and his tea, K'zre seems not to consider that this is a thing he *should* do, and so… doesn't. He does take the mug to the bathroom, washes it out in the sink, and returns it to the little kitchen area before departing. And while it's not his intention to wake up F'inn, there's definitely some rather aggressive snuggling that happens once he gets back into that nest of pillows, burying himself against the bronzerider until he's cocooned against him. And then? And then, K'zre finally finds sleep.

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