Why is there a Goldrider in the bed?

Fort Weyr - Th'ero and Velokraeth's Weyr
… 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.


It is late evening, and it's time for folks to head to bed. Nyalle has spent the day in and out of her office, forcing herself to go mingle a /little/ bit with the weyr, and visibly tending to Kayeth. At some point as well she no doubt bid farewell to Mr'az and Zhirazoth, a goodbye that caused her considerable (hidden) pain before she went back to work. But now the weyr is settling down and things are quiet, and Nyalle has let herself into the Weyrleader's weyr. Surprised at how /clean/ it is, she sets to work in the bedroom. Glows are angled just right to give a gentle light to the room, and a fresh bottle of whiskey and a chilled glass are set on the side table. Nyalle waits for her Weyrleader in bed, laying on top of the covers with a small throw blanket over her body, a fire warm in the hearth. She's dressed in a long, black silk nightgown, sexy without being too revealing. It is clear what she's here to do. To please her Weyrleader, as is her job. Her duty.

Someone is going to get an earful later for leaving the door unlocked again. And that someone's name is Th'ero! The Weyrleader had been going about his own duties throughout the Weyr, occasionally coming back to his office but for the most part he has been out and about. Dinner proceeded without incident and tying up a few last stray ends, one of which includes tracking down Kimmila and bringing her back to their weyr. Obviously for several reasons, one of which he makes very clear from the moment he finds her. It's been a long day, exhausting mentally and emotionally and yet despite that it's put him in a very frisky mood. Unaware that Nyalle is waiting patiently within his sanctum, Th'ero will return home with Kimmila and by then he's likely worked himself up to quite the riled frenzy. Eager to shut out the world and unwind, ending the day in his weyrmate's arms! Focused as he is on Kimmila, touching her and kissing her now that they're seeking privacy, he does not notice or sense anything quite amiss. Oh, but won't he be in for a surprise?

Kimmila was found and easily swept up into Th'ero's frisky desires, the bluerider seeking much the same outlet as they enter the weyr and she kicks the door shut, pausing just long enough to lock it. Giggling softly, she nudges him back towards the bedroom while she kisses him, one step at a time. Fingers pluck at his tunic, tossing his jacket aside before her own follows and she nibbles his neck, backing him into the bedroom.

Nyalle sits up when she hears the Weyrleader return, brushing nervous fingers over her hair. The sounds she hears though make it /abundantly/ clear there is another with him, and her brain freezes. Wait. This…this isn't what's supposed to happen. This isn't what she was /told/ would happen. The Weyrwoman satisfies her Weyrleader. They're /mates/ now, and she went to all this trouble…she bought this new nightgown - not one she loves, just in case he actually enjoys ripping clothing… All she can do is sit there and wait.

Th'ero kisses Kimmila back, growling a little at her giggling and plucking fingers. Step by step, he is guided backwards towards the bedroom, whispering a few gruff promises of just what he is going to do to her when they get there and oblivious to the third party who will overhear. His tunic is untucked but before it can be undone or lifted over his head, he begins to toy with Kimmila's clothing and his fingers curl against her belt. Just before they cross the threshold, he suddenly pivots and will press her body up against the archway, grinding suggestively as he kisses her soundly and breaks to trail along her neck. As he does, he groans and his eyes, once closed, now roll open to glimpse the room. He has to know where to walk next, after all! He notes the floor, the bed… huh, why are the glows so strange? No matter! Suits the mood. There's the bed and Nyalle in some black lingerie— WAIT. "Nyalle!" Th'ero half grunts, half exclaims and instinctively he clutches Kimmila hard to him. Hello mood killer! Here's a cold douse of shock! "What are you doing here? What…" Is this?

Kimmila laughs, low and thick as she returns his promises with suggestive ones of her own. Pressed against the arch she grunts and groans, leaning against him and tangling her fingers into his thick curls, lifting her chin to his wandering kisses with a moan of pleasure. Until…wait. What? Did he just call her /Nyalle/??! "I'm not-" she begins to say heatedly, before she's grabbed and yanked and then /what/? "Weyrwoman!" she gasps, staring at the black clad goldrider in stunned shock.

Nyalle blushes crimson as she yanks the blanket up to her neck. "Th'ero!" And that bluerider! "I…we're…I'm your…but…" she stammers, before she just has to stop talking, a hand pressed to her lips in her shame and humiliation.

Th'ero is still clutching to Kimmila and it may be out of his knee-jerk reaction to protect her (not that it's needed in the slightest bit!) but it could also be because he's having to position her in a way to mask his ah… obviously aroused state. One that won't last now, even with Nyalle dolled up in that lovely black outfit and Kimmila curved against him. Th'ero can only stare at the Weyrwoman, too shocked for any further emotion. Only when he's aware that he's staring at her in a black nightgown, he adverts his gaze to a modest point somewhere in the room or pointedly to her eyes until she's grabbed that blanket to cover herself. "What are you doing here in my… in our weyr?" he asks her again, once he's recovered his voice. Her shame and humiliation? Dimly noted. His mind is still scrabbling with 'why is there a goldrider in the bed'?

Kimmila continues to just /stare/ at the Senior, gaping in shock. Kimmila is at a loss for words. Someone mark the calendar.
Nyalle squeaks softly, shaking her head firmly. "I'm in our weyr for you!" she protests, misunderstanding his words. "I'm…you're the Weyrleader! I'm supposed to be your mate now! To…to…to satisfy you and to be there for you after your long days serving the weyr! This is my duty!"

Defintiely mark the calendar because even Th'ero is at a loss. Those sounds he makes? Are just words stuck in his throat as he just cannot wrap his mind around what Nyalle is telling him. It's so wrong, so backwards and so… warped. Part of him is appalled, some curious and lastly amused. Unfortunately for all, that is what his nerves cause him to do: laugh. It's a scoffed, broken and nervous laugh but it's certainly NOT what one should do in such an awkward and sensitive moment as this. "No," he says and it's repeated a few times as he can only look on at Nyalle in pity when his inappropriate laughter is finished. "What has High Reaches done to you?" he says in a voice suddenly devoid of any laughter. "Nyalle… I am weyrmated already to Kimmila! No flight is going to change that." Case in point, he pulls Kimmila close against his side. "You know this. We've not been silent in our relationship. It's… it's not your duty. It never was and it never can be." Ouch? Geez, Th'ero, way not to let her down easily?

Kimmila slips her arm firmly around Th'ero's waist, but when he laughs she frowns sharply at him and gives him a nudge. "Nyalle," she says, looking at the goldrider in a strange kind of pity, "I don't know what they taught you in High Reaches, but this is not your duty. And Th'ero does not want this," she adds, swiftly putting 'this' in instead of 'you'. Because this must be hard enough already for the girl.

Nyalle is still flushed with color, biting hard on her lower lip. "But, Weyrleaders can have as many lovers as they want…" she whispers, before Kimmila's words sink in. Th'ero doesn't /want/ this. The young Senior looks at the Weyrleader for a long moment and then flinches, pulling away. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, trying to hold back tears of embarrassment and shame. "I'm sorry, I'll…just…I'm…" she stammers, wrapping the blanket tightly around her and trying to edge past them both out into the main weyr.

Th'ero blinks and looks down at Kimmila sharply for the nudge. What? Confused, he will fall silent as the bluerider addresses Nyalle and he only firmly nods his head with his mouth set in a tense and uncomfortable line. Very classic 'do not want' expression! Which twists at the mention of lovers and he makes a disgusted sound in his throat. Not towards Nyalle but towards that trice damned Weyr she came from. "I am not that kind of Weyrleader or man, Nyalle." he tells her to back up Kimmila's previous words. He does not want this, he does not want her. He wants Kimmila and now it's slowly coming to dawn on him that he may have not been firm and clear enough to drive that point home. He looks only confused and pitying when she flinches and pulls away, awkward in the sense that there is little he can do to help her that wouldn't just make matters worse or seem so wrong. So as she tries to edge away, Th'ero will step back and draw Kimmila with him.

Kimmila moves aside as well, giving Nyalle another pitying look. "You're free to do as you please, Nyalle. You're free to be /with/ whomever you please. You're not tied to Th'ero." She has /choices/.

It's difficult to tell if Nyalle even hears Kimmila's words as she flees the Weyrleader's weyr, a brief thud and yank as she wrestles with the door. Finally getting it unlocked and open, she races into the bitter cold night, barefoot in her nightgown with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Fleeing to her weyr, down those steps and into her dragon's embrace.

Would she even understand such a concept? Th'ero has his doubts, but he approves of Kimmila's words all the same. Words perhaps he should have spoken but once again he fails utterly at expressing his thoughts. Though at least he didn't explode in a fit of rage and anger? There's a brief flinch when the door is thudded and then a stretch of tense silence so thick it almost hums and broken when he exhales heavily. "She is so much more warped than I had thought…" he says, still shocked by the whole event that just unfolded. What just happened?

Kimmila listens to Nyalle leave and the bluerider sighs heavily, slouching against Th'ero. "Wingmate…" she murmurs, shaking her head. "She is /broken/. There is something far, far wrong with that girl. I just hope we can fix it because…" Because! "Are you okay?" she asks, glancing up at him and resting a hand on his chest before she's moving away to open more glows and to pick up the bottle of whiskey and the glass. The one, single glass. "That girl…Faranth. Are they training slaves in High Reaches?"

Th'ero holds Kimmila close, supporting her even as she slouches and his brows knit in a heavy and very troubled frown. "I wouldn't say broken…" Well, she might be now! "It's more like brain washed. To fix her though." He sighs. "I'm not so certain about that. That would be up to her if she wants to accept new ideas." Yet there in lies the problem, right? What if Nyalle never adjusts? Is this another vicious cycle where they see another new Weyrwoman in a few Turns? "I'm fine." he mutters, which is a half-truth. "Still shocked and confused by all this. I sense she was a bit off… but this?" He sweeps his free hand out over towards the bed and when she picks up the bottle of whiskey he eyes and licks his lips a bit. Would it be odd if he asked for some? He snorts, "Not slaves. "Proper" women!" he says with scathing sarcasm.

Kimmila snorts, uncapping the whiskey and taking a swig. /She/ is the one to offer it to Th'ero when she returns to him, shaking her head. "She needs to figure it out fast, or else she'll be fleeing faster than Dei did. Or just causing all sorts of issues here. I don't want to think that even /Jajen/ would be better than her." That'd be /bad/. "How was your meeting with her earlier?" she asks, eying the bed again and then looking back at him. "Couch?" she suggests. Maybe she's a bit icked out at seeing the Senior sexy and alluring in /their/ bed. Faranth. Ugh. So gross. At least she was on top of the covers? Reaching out, Kimmila twines her fingers with Th'ero's and gently gives him a tug back towards the living area.

Th'ero accepts the whiskey from Kimmila, as it ought to be and swigs right from the neck of the bottle as well. Who needs a glass? Wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, he'll set the bottle back on the nightstand and then sit heavily on the edge of the bed. "Nyalle has far more potential than Jajen! She just needs to be… She needs to see that High Reaches has clouded her views of the world. That she is a free woman to make her own choices." he mutters and there is only pity in his voice. He pities Nyalle and would not wish such a life on even his worse enemy. Then again, he KNOWS what it's like to be fed twisted ideals and truths half your life and then wake up one day to learn the brutal truth. "It didn't go well." he says with a bitter twist to his mouth. Now this! Sighing, he allows her to tug him up off the bed and towards the couch. That is probably a very good idea.

Kimmila takes the whiskey with them as she leads him to the couch, sitting down in the corner and trying to pull him down with her, aiming to have him lean against her for once. "Do you think she will? See? Even though she was mistreated…it's got to be hard to abandon /everything/." As he well knows. "What happened?" she asks, brushing fingers through his hair if he settles against her.

Th'ero will take the whiskey from her hand before he leans down with her on the couch. It takes him a moment, but he eventually settles himself with most of his head and shoulders resting over her lap and legs or nestled directly between them with his head more against her chest. Taking another long swig of the powerful drink, he will lower it and with her closeness and her fingers stroking his hair he will be soothed enough to speak. "She will need time and support. I'm willing to… forget that this ever happened. If it will help her cope." Or it'll just make things worse. He makes a frustrated sound, "I scare her. I had her come by my office where she was given her knot. Had some breakfast brought up… it was all going reasonably well. A bit stiff but I anticipated that. Then her… her warped behaviour filtered in and she started questioning some of what we do here. She challenged me about your rank. I challenged her back and scared her."

Kimmila shifts so his head is in her lap and she can look down at him, running her fingers through his curls. "It's probably best to forget this ever happened," she agrees with a small grimace. "I'm…she look horrified." Then she blinks, and there's a small laugh. "You scare her?" Who could be scared of /Th'ero/? Then she snorts. "Of course she challenged you about my rank. That's the hot button issue right now, it seems. Not, you know, our relations with the holds or /food/…but my rank. Yeah, that's reaaaal important." Sarcasm. She has it. "Why was she scared of you though?"

"Wouldn't you be horrified?" Th'ero asks her, looking up into her eyes from where his head rests. Soon though they blink and look away again, brows knitted together and mouth settling into a tense line. Needs more whiskey! At her laugh, he just smirks but her sarcasm has him grimacing and not… looking pleased at all. Is he worried? You bet he is! "She brought up our situation with the Holds first. I tried to offer her advice about going to speak with the Weyrfolk like I do and she scoffed at the idea. And then… your rank. I wouldn't budge and neither would she. So — I loomed over her when she tried to walk out. Blocked her path." Uh, wow. And he's surprised she was scared? "And she recoiled from me so much that she bumped into my desk and was just… terrified of me. Like I would… would hurt her. Beat her or be cruel…" Okay, maybe that's a bit over the top but to Th'ero that is how her reaction appeared!

Kimmila shakes her head. "I'd never…/ever/ do something like that," she answers with a frown. "Hmm. Well, if she's not going to take your advice, that does not bode well weyrmate…" Then she blinks down at him. "You…" He what? "Wasn't she almost raped by High Reaches' Weyrleader? Can you blame her for being scared when you blocked her path?"

Th'ero smirks, "I know you wouldn't do something like that." he murmurs and knocks back more of that whiskey. If he's not careful, he'll be on the floor by the time they're done discussing this. Either unconscious or throwing up all said whiskey. "It's her first day. Some clashing is expected. We need to figure out where we stand." Or something of the like! The Weyrleader has shifted through two Weyrwoman so far. How hard can the third be? He flinches, twitching a bit against her and when he looks up at her, his eyes are bright with guilt and hurt. "I would never, EVER, rape her. Or touch her. I've NO desire for her in any way. All I did was walk in front of her so I could say a few last words!" Sigh. Great. Now he's rejected her AND she's scared of him?

Kimmila nods quickly, taking the bottle from him so she can take a sip, but then she puts it aside so both of her hands can touch him - one to his chest, the other through his hair. "I know, wingmate. /I/ know that, beyond a doubt, but does /she/? You just had a mindless mating flight, and then you get in her face…I'm just trying to imagine how she feels right now." And from her grimace, she doesn't /like/ imagining it.

Hey! He was enjoying that whiskey! Th'ero tries to reach for the bottle but his hand falls short and Kimmila has it set aside. Pout! He sighs heavily again, "No. She probably didn't know and just assumed what she HAD experienced with her previous Weyrleader. I'm such a fool." he mutters, realizing now just how much he has blundered with Nyalle. Comforted by her touch, it doest keep him from scrubbing wearily at his face and just looking miserable. "How do I even fix this mess, Wingmate?"

Kimmila sighs softly, continuing her gentle touches. "You're not a fool," she murmurs. "You don't /know/ her. She's…stranger than we thought." That's an understatement. "You fix it by doing your job, by being nice to her, and building that trust. She's skittish. It's going to take time…"

Th'ero sighs, "Very strange." Understatement is right! Now he's even more weirded out by the young goldrider and likely going to be on edge around her for a long, long time. "I've tried being nice." he complains. Not nice enough! It's true, he's made an attempt but probably not one overly clear enough for Nyalle to grasp. That and his suggestions have been viewed as "improper" by her. So he's baffled by that too. "Skittish…" he snorts. "Like a green runner." Poor girl. Now she's being compared to spooky runner beasts!

Kimmila nods, "Yes," she agrees, apparently thinking that description is apt. "Very. And now she's Senior. So you have to be careful, Th'ero. We can…train her, mold her how we want but she's been so warped by High Reaches she's probably going to balk at everything, for fear that we're trying to warp her too…" And she sighs heavily. "This is…a…shards. What a mess."

Th'ero sighs, "Very strange." Understatement is right! Now he's even more weirded out by the young goldrider and likely going to be on edge around her for a long, long time. "I've tried being nice." he complains. Not nice enough! It's true, he's made an attempt but probably not one overly clear enough for Nyalle to grasp. That and his suggestions have been viewed as "improper" by her. So he's baffled by that too. "Skittish…" he snorts. "Like a green runner." Poor girl. Now she's being compared to spooky runner beasts!

Kimmila nods, "Yes," she agrees, apparently thinking that description is apt. "Very. And now she's Senior. So you have to be careful, Th'ero. We can…train her, mold her how we want but she's been so warped by High Reaches she's probably going to balk at everything, for fear that we're trying to warp her too…" And she sighs heavily. "This is…a…shards. What a mess."

Th'ero frowns heavily, "No." he says quite suddenly and shakes his head. "We won't mold her. Train her, yes. But we will not mold her into someone she is not. The poor girl has had her mind toyed with enough. We can help undo what damage we can, set her on the path to healing, perhaps, but beyond that… I don't want to meddle with her." He snorts then. "When is it not a mess, Wingmate? Are transitions like this ever easy?" He doesn't seem to think so.

Kimmila nods, running her fingers through his curls in a gentle stroke that is hopefully soothing. "I think that's a good plan, wingmate," she murmurs. Then there's a soft snort and a chuckle. "No, not usually…no. We'll make it as easy as we can though."

It is soothing to him when she strokes her fingers through his curls and Th'ero's eyes will drift closed again, his body sagging a bit against hers as the tension that had been lingering there from the shock of finding Nyalle in their weyr is finally ebbing away. "I need to apologize to her too. For earlier… for scaring her like that in the office." Even if she asked for it, challenging him like that! Not his fault the girl couldn't take the heat!

Kimmila nods slightly. "I think that's wise," she agrees. "You two have to work together, she can't be afraid of you at all…even if it was her fault." Bending down, she seeks his lips for a gentle kiss. "You've had a rough couple of days, wingmate. How can I help?"

Th'ero takes a deep steading breath and exhales slowly. Yes, that is what he will do. "I'll figure something out then." he murmurs and when she kisses him, he only smiles up at her as he opens his eyes to look up. "I can't imagine your days haven't been rough either, love." he whispers as his hands lift to brush up against her cheeks as he seeks to draw her down to him again. The angle is a bit awkward, but he finds it rather sensual to have her bending over him and he beneath her as they kiss. He kisses her slow as he draws it out and by the end of it he is groaning softly. There is her answer!


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