WARNING: Mildly Mature Themes Below!

Fort Weyr - Th'ero and Velokraeth's Weyr
This weyr is opulent and almost as large as one of the ground weyrs and the ledge outside can easily fit two large dragons. The broad shelf ties in directly to the stairs leading down to the bowl below and over to the administration complex, making it easily accessible from both levels and the other end of the ledge curves around as it meets the stone wall of the Weyr and then turns inwards. Carved and smoothed by time, the covered wallow offers more ample space for the residing dragon and one more should a companion be welcomed in. Sheltered by the worst of the elements, it's a perfect hideaway from winter cold and the slight lip allows for large blackets to be draped over it without sliding downwards.The stone floor is smooth, having been worn down over the Turns. Toward the back of the dragon area, there is a wall with a small entranceway leading into a tiny alcove and nook, where several chests, supplies and pegs to hold the straps rest. Beyond this is a narrow hallway, hidden and secreted from view by a grey hued rug, but allows a secondary and private access to the main living area.
Accessible from the ledge outside, two large wooden double doors lead into the wide and spacious living area. Raised like a natural formed dias, a tiny foyer opens up just steps past those doors, gradually and subtly inclining down into the rough semicircular shape of the room. Along the same wall of the doors but further in is a large stone hearth and in front of it lies a very large and well woven rug. Placed on top is a low, dark wood table and behind it is a long, deep cushioned and equally dark leather couch. Thick pillows rest at each end and there is a matching chair to go with the set though it rests to the side and facing back towards the doors. Shelves have been carved into the wall, little recessed pockets that allow for a variety of items to be placed, though most commonly used for glow baskets. The smoothed wall curves at the right handed side, extending out to create a semi-partition, an illusion that the room is in fact made of two pieces.
Tucked away in this hollow is the kitchenette, visible either from approaching it as one walks towards the back of the weyr or through the mock arch window carved at shoulder height into the rock wall extension. There are ample cabinets and counter space, all made with good stone though they are worn a bit by age. Almost directly across from the kitchenette, where the wall slopes and turns to form a natural hallway, another entrance has been carved into the stone. It is a spare room, converted into a modest and cramped personal office and contains little more than a stout and well aged, well cared for wooden desk and a bookshelf crammed with a variety of reading material.
Following the hallway back deeper in the weyr, another entrance opens to the left and one directly ahead with both covered by a thin hanging rug that can be tied back if privacy is required. The left side opens up to the bathroom, large enough for two people. There is a large basin tub carved of the same stone of the wall it was hollowed from and one of the few to have actual plumbing to allow hot and cold water to be poured in directly. The rest of the necessities are tucked away beyond and recessed a bit. A large vanity and mirror takes up most of one of the walls, the countertop made of a lighter stone and the wash basin of a neutral porcelain.
The last entrance set at the end of the hallway leads into a bedroom of a slightly more modest size. Pushed against the far wall, the bed is low and large enough to comfortably fit two grown adults. It's piled with pillows and cushions near the dark wooden headboard and a thick blanket rests overtop, with more furs and spare blankets folded and resting on top of an old and worn chest at the foot of the bed. A dresser has been set to the right of the entrance and across from it a full length mirror rests. Like the living area, shelves have been carved into the stone, as well as more of the small recessed alcoves that hold more glow baskets. No decoration or tapestries hang here, leaving the bedroom rather sombre and neutral for color, save for the dark green vine like plant from a high shelf just below the low ceiling and has been trained to grow along it and then down either side of the wall.


The deed is done. News of Dtirae's stepping down as Senior and the Weyr now without one of their Leaders was broken to most of the populace before the dinner hour. Reaction was immediate and mixed but the atmosphere was certainly tense and charged and the efforts of peacekeeping from the golds a likely welcomed thing. The Weyrleader lingers as long as he can withstand the amount of public focus and the buzz and hum of overlapping conversations and simmering concerns, frustrations and anger and all sorts of emotions. Eventually it becomes too much and Th'ero slips out once the time presents itself. Predictably, he's likely tried to snare Kimmila with him as he makes a break for the sanctum and quiet of their weyr. Rather than going into the weyr proper though, he slips into the wallows and to where Velokraeth now sleeps, exhausted.

Kimmila made the rounds with Th'ero, often sticking by his side but also moving off on her own, drifting from group to group and using her own tactics to try and quell any rumors and keep the mood light. She's got her riders on alert as well, messages relayed from Varmiroth to their dragons, and they are helping in the effort as well. The goal? Keep the weyr from panic. Everything will be fine, they have three strong, viable queens. The weyr will not suffer without a leader for long, and the weyr still has Th'ero, the Juniors and D'ani at the helm. Damage control, as successful (or not) as it can be. Kimmila returns with Th'ero though when the Weyrleader leaves, joining him in the wallow. Varmiroth does not sleep, the blue curled up against his ledgemate, snuggling close and he offers the returning riders a soft croon while Kimmila goes to his head to rub his muzzle gently. "Went as well as could be expected," she murmurs.

Perhaps the Weyr will not panic after all and once the initial shock of the news has rolled through, things will settle as far as they possibly can. Things will be tense, that much is a given, but the Weyr has weathered far worse and have remained banded together throughout it. Bets have probably already begun to be whispered and spread as to which gold will rise and claim the title of Senior. Who will it be? Th'ero leaves Kimmila's side to stride to Velokraeth's resting head and his hands will caress against the pale hide in a soothing way. A moment of shared tenderness with his lifemate, kept so private and secretive but not from Kimmila and Varmiroth. "Better than I had hoped. I anticipated the worst…" he murmurs quietly. It never happened, but he still remains wound up and tense. "Couldn't have done it without your help. Without the help of the others too…"

Kimmila leaves Varmiroth's muzzle to drift to Th'ero's side, resting a hand against his back as he soothes his bronze. "How is he?" she asks with a frown of concern for the pale bronze. "You did fine, wingmate. We stood together and it was good for the weyr to see all the leadership united. Perhaps we should start all eating together at the head table for dinner each night. Remind the weyr that we /are/ united as a leadership, even though there will be one empty chair." For now.

Th'ero leans back against her hand, a subtle rocking that is almost instinctual at the sensation of her fingers against his clothing. "Resting now. He took Zuvaleyuth's leave hard." Obviously! Yet him speaking out about it has some form of healing-like quality to it. Why hide it? "While Dtirae and I never saw quite eye to eye, he and Zuvaleyuth did form a bond. She was his mate, as far as he was concerned and despite his appetite for anything that glows. She was the only one he truly cared about as he would often remind me and long after I'd think his memory would fail." he murmurs softly, his fingers still stroking and caressing the resting bronze's hide. Kimmila's compliment and suggestion have him lowering his head, but when he turns it to gaze at her his eyes are still troubled but gone is that dangerous edge that signals his temper is riled. "It was a good idea, wasn't it? And perhaps we will continue that trend then. Maybe the empty chair will not be noticed, if we provide a more appealing image." Right?

Kimmila rubs her hand against his back, providing the support he seeks. "Poor guy," she says softly, her voice sad and sympathetic. "So much change…but hopefully soon he'll have a new mate," she says, meeting his gaze when eh looks at her. She nods. "I think it's important," she says quietly.

"He'll be alright. Varmiroth has been a great help, by the way. Dremkoth, Kouzevelth… all of them. He was touched by their support and I'd not be surprised if he's more or less back to himself by morning." Th'ero admits as he looks down again to smile fondly to his bronze and then starts, turning sharply to face Kimmila. A new mate? Oh yes. The flight to come. His expression twists and he steps close to her, facing her and lowering his head until his forehead rests gently against hers and his arms lift up to embrace her. "If he catches the gold. We don't know… We won't know until then. He may not succeed Wingmate…" And he has to stop there, mouth drawn and grim.

Kimmila turns as well, sliding her arms around his waist and holding him loosely, forehead to forehead. "We won't know, but you have the weyr's support. The new queen should heed that…a weyr can turn the tide of a flight…" Then she pauses, looking up at him. "Do you /want/ to stay Weyrleader?" It's an honest question, softly and seriously asked.

Th'ero is silent through her reassurances, his expression still grim and tense. He knows that the Weyr can sway a flight and part of him hopes it will and the other nags at him. What if? What if, what if, what if? His hold on her tightens, drawing her fiercely to him as he tilts his head just enough to rub cheeks with her as his lips brush below her ear as he whispers gruffly. "Yes," he tells her honestly, after tapping into his true desires and touch surprised to discover the answer. "Yes! I do. I do, Wingmate and I'm sorry…" For what? Before she can even answer, he will ask her the same. "Do you?"

"Sorry for what?" Kimmila whispers, returning his embrace tightly and rising onto her tiptoes to rest cheek to cheek, her breath hot against his ear. "Of course I do," she answers softly. "If you do, then I do. You have always been good for this weyr. You are a /good/ Weyrleader." Leaning back, she tires to seek his gaze. "Who do you want to be your Senior?" If he could choose.

"That I would choose Weyrleader over a chance to finally seek out a life beyond the Weyr with you at my side," Th'ero whispers and pulling up a promise they made so many Turns ago. Of seeking their own land to build a cottage, to build a home and life of their own. He hasn't forgotten and yet the guilt is there, misplaced or not, that he would choose his rank. His eyes drift close and his jaw works as he silently absorbs her whispered words. Exhaling shakily, he leans back as well and his eyes open to slowly seek her gaze and hold it. "I'm glad to have your support, Wingmate. I am." Grateful too, beyond words. He shakes his head, chuckling dryly and a touch bitterly. If he could choose? "Inri," he says with little hesitation. "Because I've come to trust her and respect her, even if we do not speak much outside of duty. She has a good relationship here in the Weyr, has proven to be a good junior. But if not Inri, then Nyalle. She may be new and a bit stiff with her formalities and traditions but… so far how she has adjusted to all this change in her life and yet still works and reliably so speaks for some strength of character. As to whether or not I'd be able to work with her…" He shrugs, uncertain.

Kimmila blinks, a bit surprised, and then she chuckles softly, lifting both hands to cup his cheeks. "That's a long ways off, wingmate," she whispers. "That's when we're old and retired…" At least that's how /she/ imagined it. "You always have my support," she says, quiet but firm. And then she nods. "I would choose Inri as well," she agrees, for much the same reasons. "Nyalle…I don't know. She's strange."

Th'ero looks down at her when she cups his cheeks and there is a faint smile given for her answer. Old and retired. "I already feel old," he mutters with a low sigh and his brief attempt at some humour even if a touch gloomy. "I figured you and I would share the same outlooks." he murmurs softly and then smirks against her fingers, tilting his head just enough to nuzzle against one of her hands. Gently, he begins to coax them to walking forwards and towards the tapestry covered hidden entrance to the weyr. "She's new, of course she's strange. She's not yet had the time for us to adjust to her and vice versa. So we will see?"

Kimmila chuckles softly, reaching up to playfully tug on a curl. "You didn't feel old this morning," she teases lightly, with a wink. "We will see about Nyalle." Then she sighs. "I know what you mean about feeling old. All this…I feel worn thin. One thing after another, it seems like…"

Th'ero grunts softly when she tugs playfully on a curl and her teasing with that wink brings forth a soft chuckle and his lips brush her forehead as he kisses her gently. "That is different." he murmurs and when she sighs, he pulls her close and slips them through the hidden archway and into their weyr. "I think we're all feeling it now, weyrmate. But we're approaching a new Turn. Remember how calm the start of this one was? Maybe by the new season, we will have our peace and HOLD it. We have to have that hope, right?"

Kimmila nods as she walks with him, holding him close as she can without hindering their walking. "We can hope. And believe," she murmurs. "Things will mend with the holds. The weyr will adjust, this is pushing us to do those farming and herding projects we've been putting off. And a new Senior…if she's a good one, could bring new life to the weyr. And a clutch is always positive."

And this is why Th'ero adores Kimmila so deeply and it's for moments like these. Where no matter how dark or grim things have become, she is always there to lend some form of hope or inspiring words. Always supportive and ever since the start. "So we have goals and hope to keep us strong," he murmurs and once inside he begins to slip off his gear and kick off his boots, lending her a hand with her jacket and winter gear if she'll allow it. Could be an excuse (not that he needs one!) to allow his hands to slip and brush against her body. Pulling her into another embrace, he will nuzzle against her neck and his strength seems to waver then, shoulders sagging as his turmoiled mind begins to slowly grasp that they're alone and in privacy. He can let those guards down now and they're crumbling fast. "The bed." It's not a question.

Kimmila nods, "We do," she murmurs in agreement, helping him with his gear and caressing him in turn, taking her time to explore him and run her fingers through his hair, chin lifting at his nuzzling. "The bed," she agrees, her own walls and strength beginning to ebb away, not needed in this safe place.

Th'ero leans into her caressing and towards her when her fingers run through his hair. Slipping an arm around her, he will guide her to the back of his weyr and towards the bed. Yet as they come to stand beside it, he stops and pulls her tight against him only to then begin to pluck at her clothing. Unfastening it, untucking and caressing at every chance he gets. It's done slowly, not in the height of passion but more ritualistic. Familiarity amongst so much uncertainty and unknowns. "I should have noticed the signs in Dtriae. I did notice them and I did nothing…" Th'ero murmurs quite suddenly, his guilt rising to the surface.

Kimmila picks up on his need for soothing, for ritual and pattern over passion, and she follows suit, steadying her hands and her posture as she helps him undress as well, taking turns back and forth. "There's nothing you could have done," she says quietly. "We tried, wingmate. We tried so hard to help her. She was her own demise." Reaching up once his tunic is removed, she places a firm hand against his chest and rubs that one spot over his sternum, her eyes seeking his, offering soothing caresses and steadying energy.

Th'ero picks up on that routine and back and forth between them the layers of their clothing are removed and dropped unheeded to the floor. "Was there nothing I could do? Anyone of us could have done for her? You believe that, Wingmate?" he asks softly, his eyes closing as he leans into her hand again as she rubs at his chest and his fingers slip over her hips to begin caressing along the curve of her sides and around to her back.

Kimmila moves closer to him, resting her nude body against his warm skin, letting him feel all of her against him and beneath his hands. His. Always his, no matter what else is going on in their lives. "She was stubborn. And in a self-destructive way. I do believe that we did all we could have done. You can't fix someone who wants to be fixed, Th'ero. Even you sought help," she reminds him gently as she leans up, tilting her chin to offer her neck to him.

Always his and he will always be hers. Th'ero holds her close and firm to his body, comforted by the close and intimate contact. His hands roam in a firm caress over her skin and he lowers his head again to rest it by hers. "It's true… She knew we would help her if she approached us but —" She didn't and he's left baffled and confused as to why. But it was her choice and nothing he can do now will change that. Done is done and he knows from experience that wallowing in the guilt of the 'what ifs' and 'could have beens' get him nowhere. Then she is tilting her chin up to offer her neck to him and he does not disappoint or hesitate. Lips brush against her, followed then by kisses and nuzzling as he maneuvers her to sit down on the bed as he slips in alongside her.

Kimmila nods, sliding her hands along his skin, slow and caressing. "She knew," she says softly. "And she used to reach out more. She just decided to withdraw." And now she's gone. Settling onto the bed, she keeps close to him, scooting over beside his body and resting her head against his shoulder, one hand still rubbing his chest.

Th'ero exhales heavily as he slides over the bed with her and once he's pulled one of the lighter covers over their legs and hips, he curves his body close to hers and turned on his side to face her. "There was nothing we could have done. Her mind was set," he murmurs and his eyes seek hers for confirmation of this and all the while his hand continues to stroke and caress along her back and up along her side and to her chest as well. All of her and all of his to explore.

Kimmila nods, "Yes. It was. Nothing we could have done, wingmate. I hope you believe that. I do. This isn't your fault." She knows how he is and she doesn't want him to have guilt over this. He couldn't change it. Laying down beside him, on her side, she lets her free hand roam lightly over his body, slow and caressing while she pillows her head against her bent arm. "She might come back," she murmurs. "And she might make a better Junior. Less stress. She was…wild. Like me. I can't imagine being in her position."

"I'm trying to believe it," Th'ero admits and he does not hide his guilt or the turmoil this whole situation has set upon his thoughts from Kimmila. He sighs softly, slowly soothed and calmed by her touch. So warm, so familiar and grounding. His eyes close again but his brows do not knit so heavily or scowl. "She could come back, yes. She'd be welcomed back! Perhaps she would make a better junior. She… her rise to Senior was so early and swift. And yes, she was wild in her own way." Not in a way that he ever found appealing however. Not the 'wild' that drew him so strongly to Kimmila's side. Shifting on the bed, he rests his hand in the curve of her hip and presses his lips to her forehead in a lingering kiss that once broken, lowers down to her cheek, then her jaw and up again to her lips, gentle to start and then slowly drawn out.

"Believe it," Kimmila whispers. Coaxes. Her hand slides over his chest to his side, down to his hip and back up again, feeling the familiar contours of his body. "She would be welcomed, yes. And her rise was /very/ swift. Perhaps…perhaps we will make the same mistake again…" Not that they have control over it. Closing her eyes to his kisses, she leans into them and then returns the one to her lips, tasting him and letting it linger.

Th'ero's mouth draws into a stubborn line at her coaxing but it does not last for long and soon his expression slips again to one saddened and troubled and he nestles closer under her caressing touch and curling himself around her body. "No. No we won't make the same mistakes," he says and in that he is positive. Not again. With the kissing lingering, Th'ero does not break away quite yet and continues it, slow and drawn out. Tasting her, savouring her and now his hand seeks to firmly press against her hip to silently push her and roll her onto her back.

Kimmila lifts a brow. "How can we avoid it? All three Juniors are young. Nyalle just /got/ here. If it's her…she'll be Senior early and swiftly. And she's new to Fort on top of it. We can't prevent her Kayeth from rising, if it's her turn to do so." But she's silenced by his kiss and his push, rolling obediently onto her back with knees bent, legs parted for him as she welcomes him between them. Stroking a hand through his curls, she deepens the kiss in return, tasting and savoring his unique flavor which has become so intoxicating to her.

Th'ero's body will move with hers, no hesitation in the way he slides himself between her parted legs and most of his weight braced on his elbows as his arms come to rest at either side of her. Hovering above her, he can only shake his head and lower it to nibble just below her ear before he whispers gruffly. "Both Inri and Nyalle have had experience as Juniors. Inri more so than Nyalle, but at least they are not entirely fresh and green from Weyrlinghood. The only junior who worries me is Jajen." Need he say anymore? Apparently not, as he's swift to sink into her kisses again and growl low against her lips as her fingers stroke through his curls.

Kimmila groans softly, sliding her arms around his shoulders, fingers toying lightly along his skin before she uses her nails instead. Her other hand slides through his curls, gripping briefly as she inhales and arches her body up to his, her passions beginning to warm. Juniors what? She has the sexy Weyrleader - her Weyrmate - above her. Nothing else matters. Not even Jajen.

Th'ero breath hitches, sucked sharply through his teeth as her nails dig into his skin and his body lightly twitches and shivers in response. What were they discussing? His mind has begun to drift as passion seeps through and takes a very firm grip. She arches to him and his body curves to grind back against her, drawing a throaty groan from his lips and muffled against hers. Now he seeks a different outlet with her and one he shares only with her. Here he is at his most vulnerable, exposed in far more ways that one. Physically and emotionally, no barriers. Gradually he allows the world to slip away and his thoughts focus on her, his weyrmate and love.

He'd better not share this with anyone else! Kimmila squirms, shifting beneath him and lifting her hips in a silent need and request, sliding her hands and nails along his skin as she kisses him firmly and then lets her lips travel along his neck to his shoulder, where she nips. She, too, is vulnerable, and any interruption or slight would do more damage here than at any other time. No barriers, no safety nets, nothing held back as she bares it all to him, willingly and openly.

Time passes on through which their passions are shared until spent and satisfied they settle against each other in the bed…

Kimmila laughs, soft and breathless against his kiss, returning it with as much passion and love and need. Snuggling in close, she burrows against his body with a low exhale of pleasure. "No matter what happens," she whispers, "as long as we have this, we'll be alright." This connection, this touch, this reassurance.

Th'ero's heart soars just a little more at her laughter and he snuggles in tight and close to her body, burrowed and twined with and around her. Settled comfortably, he has no desire at all to move a single inch from her. "We will be alright," he murmurs in agreement. This connection, this touch and this reassurance is not something he will give up without a good, hard fight, if ever. There are no words possible for him to even begin to describe the depths of how much she means to him but he tries to convey it by touch and how he holds her close to him. "I love you, Kimmila." he murmurs and that is only the beginning of the low spoken and oftentimes breathless whispered words he tells her. Everything from how much he values her and loves her, admires her and every positive and admiring compliment he can think of in between. Forget the world and it's troubles, he wants only to think of her and of their bond. Nothing more and as sleep begins to pull him down, his last thought is if he hopes that this will be enough to stave of their nightmares. That their dreams will be just as sweet and warm and loving and the night peaceful. It can't hurt to ask for that small thing, right?