Black Damnation Salvation

Fort Weyr - 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.


Continued from: You Want us to...What?

They can probably blame both proddiness and dragons, at least to an extent. Dremkoth's most certainly listened in and indignantly rejected the idea of avoiding any glowing gold about to rise. The bronze is also insulted to think any queenrider wouldn't be delighted to find herself in the arms of his lifemate afterwards. Tonight's request finds raw emotions in both dragon and rider indeed and this certainly reverberates between the two, perhaps even amplified by their shared reaction. D'ani's silent while Th'ero speaks, though lifts his bottle in a silent toast to the Weyrleader's contradiction of Dtirae's claim. Oh, she's shut down alright! And things are not fine with her. "Frankly, I don't think you know how you feel about anything," he growls with a frown, not at her but at his half-empty bottle, then quiets as they finish talking. He shrugs when she mentions continuing avoiding him. Not much he can do, or perhaps more accurately, wants to do, about that. His eyes somberly watch Dtirae take her leave and only when she's gone does he shift his shoulder from the wall to cross the room and flop on the couch with a groan.

Velokraeth's grumblings can be heard from within his wallow, sharing some of Dremkoth's indignation even if unaware of the younger bronze's reaction. Not court a glowing gold? True, he's sired (too) many clutches and holds a record of snaring three senior Queens to ensure his rider's rank as Weyrleader so it's not so much the honour of being a sire. He is a bronze and he will chase whatever female he fancies! Th'ero nods his head curtly to Dtirae and his eyes will follow the weyrwoman out as she takes her leave and then to D'ani as he makes his way over to the couch to flop down. Muttering under his breath, he moves as well but only to discard his now empty bottle of ale and go on the hunt for another. He'll be sure to bring another for D'ani too and set it aside within his reach for when he wants it (if he wants it). Taking a seat in one of the chairs next to the couch, Th'ero will simply grimace. Now where to begin? "That was… unexpected." Understatement. But there's an underlying hint of 'you alright?' in there too.

D'ani'll want that second ale, alright! His brows are knitted over clenched shut eyes while his own thoughts run down rabbit trails of dark thoughts. That bottle is raised to his lips as footsteps herald Th'ero's return, the quiet thunk of glass on wood beside his elbow finds him cracking an eye and grunting an unintelligible thanks. He takes a pull on that ale, the liquid running down his throat is as black as his mood. Is he alright? He probably will be if that woman ever gets herself pulled together! He lifts the nearly-empty bottle to the light, frowns at it and mutters, "She knows me better than that." That could mean so many things - his integrity, his honor in riding a Fortian bronze, his gentleness with her… The bottle is upended and the last of it swallowed. He coughs once because the stuff is too potent to be gulping. Silence follows Th'ero's musing. A thoughtful burp later, "Looking back, not so much unexpected. Though she assured me she wanted to return home. Thought she knew what that entailed." He grimaces over at Th'ero, "Sorry, Boss. Was hoping she'd," he grimaces, "moved on."

Th'ero's thoughts are running their own paths but not as darkly as D'ani's. True, the Weyrleader is troubled by what he's witnessed and as much as he'd love to be indifferent about it — that's not how he works. It's part of his duty to see that his Weyr runs smoothly and he cannot have his Weyrsecond at odds with a goldrider, never mind if it's the goldrider at fault (or a proddy gold or whatever the reason!). Awkward though he is with personal matters and known to struggle with his own emotions on a regular basis, Th'ero's going to lend support to D'ani and later, despite his roughness in handling her, Dtirae will be spoken to as well. He's also doing this because he likes D'ani and Dtirae as people, when all rank has been stripped away. Seems only fair that he'll lend a hand as best he can and try not to muddle the situation further. "If she's as hurt as she claims, then she's likely blinded by it, D'ani. I'd think with the amount of time past she'd heal but some tend to nurture those wounds as a shield rather than let it go." Case in point? Himself. Just ask Kimmila sometime how long Th'ero can hold on to something emotionally poisoning! "I was given that same assurance. Don't apologize. Not your fault," he shrugs in an almost dismissive manner. Women. "And for all we know this is being exacerbated by Zuvaleyuth's proddiness and Dtirae will be more in control of herself once she's flown."

D'ani would love to be indifferent about it! The truth is, he's not. Loyalty means much to him and he's affirmed countless times his sincerity to remain Dtirae's friend. Having her throw that back in his face… well. Ouch! "Suppose so," he mutters somewhat indistinctly by now, with a shrug to echo Th'ero's while discarding his empty bottle for that full one beside him. "Though she's been avoiding me since she came back. And we can't blame that on Zuva." He's making inroads in emptying that second ale and it's after a few more mouthfuls that he says with a thoughtful squint to those - ah - that bottle (one, not two like there was with both eyes open), "What she wants is someone to enable her reclusive fragility (okay yes, those two words trip his tongue - he doesn't notice). But that's not the kind of 'friend' I am. I've always been honest with 'er." He takes another pull on that bottle, his tension having slowly drained away, leaving behind a rather tired resignation and a definite alcoholic buzz. His gaze lifts to Th'ero, brown eyes pained, "I never said 'I love you' to 'er. Liked 'er. Didn't love 'er. And she knew it," his palm thumps himself on the chest, "in here." He tucks his chin (damn the alcohol!) and admits, "I'm not happy that hurt 'er. Things've been good for me lately with Inri (cue goofy grin flashed sheepishly at Th'ero)…damn that fire wrecking my igloo…but if me being around makes Dei so unhappy, I should go. Was 'er home here before it was mine…" Is he…rambling? Why yes, yes he is.

"No, we can't," Th'ero grimly agrees as he knocks back more of that ale. He's built up a considerable tolerance to it so his buzz is no where near as strong as D'ani's may be. He's quiet for a moment, listening closely to the Weyrsecond's words and mulling over the thoughts dredged up by him. "Dtirae's always been difficult in ways to understand. I blamed myself for her stepping down, thinking I had not reached out enough. Now I wonder," he mutters with a faint grimace. Would it have been enough? Probably not. Here's D'ani, offering friendship, loyalty and support and look where it got him! "You can only do so much. Rest is up to her," Which doesn't solve anything but at this point it's all hinging on her ability to cope with the past and move on. There's a faint smile for D'ani's mention of Inri but it fades soon enough and after knocking back the last of his ale (and holding off going to fetch a third right off), he sets the bottle down and gives his Weyrsecond a level look. "You're not going anywhere. I'm not about to lose the best Weyrsecond I've had and Fort's had for… how many Turns now? No. You'll stay here and she'll just have to grow up and get over it," Harsh words but it's the truth, right?

D'ani doesn't drink Black Damnation often. In fact, he does it mostly when he shouldn't (ie, in times like these). So his tolerance is significantly lower than Th'ero's. "Same here," he says of blaming himself, lifting the bottle in a salute of camaraderie, as if that's something to be celebrated. Closet Self-Guilters unite! He drinks to that, then grunts, "It's not your fault. She's fragile. Needy! I reached out, encouraged 'er, reassured 'er, soothed 'er… was never enough. And… it got old. I care? But it wasn't a healthy relationship." He's halfway through the bottle when he ought to be sipping. Tomorrow he'll regret this. He meets that level stare blandly. Then smiles slowly, "Yessir!" He's touched, he is. Ignore the manly shine of brown eyes, the gruff, "Thanks!" that follows says it all. Time will tell. Right now he's going to finish this ale and by the time he does, he'll be unfit to fly.

Th'ero would return that salute and sort of does with a dip of his head but his empty bottle remains at his sie. Closet Self-Guilters is right! "Dunno why she's so fragile. She wasn't before, you know? Then the whole Stonehaven mess happened and she's never been right since." he mutters and waves a hand. More past-talk. Who hasn't been affected by that whole sordid part of Fort's history? He'll ignore the moment of fluff but it's silently acknowledged all the same. Yup, the Weyrleader likes his Weyrsecond and isn't about to let him go without a fight. A tip of his fingers in a close-to playful salute and then Th'ero is pushing to his feet again and miraculously not toppling right onto his face. He does linger by the chair though and there's a reason he's leaning a hand on the back of it. It makes him seem casual and relaxed, but in reality he's using it as a crutch. "Another round?" Since they're already passed the no-fly line, may as well go into the no-walking or sense of coherency zone. Whether or not D'ani answers, Th'ero will wander off back into the kitchenette but still within range of conversation. "Don't think I've ever seen you lose your temper, in all our Turns of working together. Not that I blame you, given the situation…" But? "Stress not wearing you down, is it?" Seeing as he's been hefting a lot more duty and work wise of late, on top of everything else. Returning with yet another ale, he'll drop off a bowl of dried and salted nuts and what looks to be bread. Dig in?

Stonehaven. The name sets D'ani to muttering. "Forgot she…saw that." And yet, Ezra lived through it and he's tougher. Ah well. "Sure," he says easily to another round (really he should say no. Oh well). He's a touch sheepish at losing his temper, raking a hand through his hair and leaving it on the back of his neck. "Ah, it takes a lot, but I do have one. And some of Dremkoth's too." Stress getting to him? He peers after Th'ero hazily puzzled, "No? This is how Fort is all the time." Isn't it? With weyrwoman woes on top? Maybe! Th'ero knows more about that than D'ani would. He's developed a love for Fort and its leaders as well, so leaving would be nearly unthinkable. He'll stay. As evidenced by the next question, "Did you collect my knot from the table by any chance?" Because he didn't. Nuts might interest him, but he's not all that hungry after what went down this evening. He will, however, work on that third or fourth or however many it takes to pass out on Th'ero's couch.

So did Rayathess and Anrila and a lot more after their narrow escape. Th'ero nods as he takes his seat again, cracking open that bottle of ale and draining a good portion of it before he focuses back on D'ani. "Mhm. Dremkoth is upset too?" he asks even if he had already pointed out that half of his loss of temper was on account of the bronze reacting to the terms Dtirae laid out for both of them. "Guess it never is dull in Fort, is it?" Th'ero muses with a crooked smirk as he balances the bottle on his thigh, starting to sink back in that chair in a relaxed manner as the alcohol he's consumed finally begins to sink in and get him to that buzzed state. Ahh, there we go! "No, but I doubt it'll have gone far. Barkeeper probably has it." And it'll probably be back in the office by morning! "If it's gone for whatever reason," Hand wave. "We'll order another." Details. If D'ani does (and he will, won't he?) pass out on that couch again, Th'ero will have just enough strength and coherency left in him to pull a blanket off the back of the couch and sort've haphazardly toss it over the bronzerider. Won't be straight and probably half end up on the floor but the gesture's there at least? Then he stumbles off to likewise collapse on his own bed. Sometime after Th'ero's passed out, D'ani will have a little visitor. Kyzen's domesticated feline, Boo, a short legged fluffy white tabby with ghost markings will leap up and perch upon the unconscious Weyrsecond wherever is safest, snuggling in with a contented feline-like smugness and smirk as she purrs. Hello new bed!

And when Kimmila comes home she'll see D'ani there, and Th'ero in the bed, and the empty bottles, and just swear under her breath. "Shards and shells, /now/ what's happened…" Mutter, mutter, grumble, and off she goes to take a bath.

"Was," D'ani replies of Dremkoth and that'll be the stubborn bronze's satisfaction in refusing to be ousted for Zuvaleyuth's flight rippling in his voice there. And, "Never," with a smirk to echo Th'ero's regarding Fort. If Th'ero isn't worrying about the knot, D'ani won't. Though if he didn't have all this ale under his belt, after Vossler's recent invasion, he'd gak and rush out to collect it himself. Right at the moment, the man's name doesn't come to mind (but his burned igloo did a few moments earlier, go figure). The time comes when the room fades and his words (whatever they were) falter midsentence as the by now sprawling weyrsecond passes out. He's oblivious to being 'tucked in' (awww!) by the Weyrleader. Likewise oblivious to being Boo's bed and Kimmila's arrival (THANK you for not mistaking him for Th'ero!). Snooooore.

At least it's not a white couch?

Hopefully things won't come to that!


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