Can't Get Him Up When He's Down

Western Weyr - Weyrling Training Field
Near the tall black eastern wall of the crater is a cleared field. The earth there has been churned many times over by the landings and take offs of young dragons and only a few patches of grass cling to life in this active area. Wooden props and markers used to assist the weyrlings as they learn the precise manuvers required for the rescue and protection work that Western Weyr is famous for, litter the training field. Close to the rimwall, in the east where the sun is usually shaded is a large wooden slat barracks for the weyrlings to live in. Tropical trees and shrubs have been allowed to grow here, perfuming the air with a floral scent.

It's early evening; warm, sultry, and with Rukbat's afternoon glow casting the world in shades of gold. Whether that's beautiful or not though isn't noticed by one Rou'x, who seems to be having a little difficulty with her lifemate. Indianath has flopped down onto his side neck stretched out in front of him, whirling eyes closed. Having given up on trying to get him to move, the big-bottomed weyrling has settled herself down beside him, sitting splay-legged as she leans back against his belly, stroking his foreleg.

Ila'den is here for two reasons, and neither of them very important. The first is to sate Teimyrth's curiosity (HE IS A PROUD DADDY, OKAY), and the second, Kiltara's. It's why the Weyrsecond is arriving with his 11-turn-old sister and massive bronze in tow. Teimyrth's awkward gait leaves the magnificent beast looking somewhat clumsy, though he's somehow able to avoid bumping into every inanimate object that looks as though he just might be its end. And there! His brown child! There is a snuffle of air in greeting to Indianath, a sure sign that Tei is displeased to find the baby dragon apparently dozing, just as Ila'den spots Rou'x and gives her a smile. "Working hard?" he inquires, as Kiltara does what she does best to /hide/ away from the stranger. « Not hard enough. »

Rou'x's gaze flickers up from where she was staring at her knees to watch Ila'den and Teimyth's progression across the training grounds, offering them, and his unknown little sister, a lopsided and definitely frustrated smile when they get close. "I was /trying/ to get in a bit of fresh air, an evening walk and all that, but he's… Faranth, I can't keep him /awake/." Her hand on her lifemate's leg pauses in its stroking, and she shakes her head. "He just decided that right /here/ was a good place. Right /now/. How'm I meant to get him up?"

Ila'den laughs at the weyrling's predicament and moves over to the pair, hunkering down into a crouch halfway between girl and dragon. "You don't; he needs rest. With time, he'll need less and less, until there comes a point when it seems they won't ever sleep." Kiltara, now without a place to hide, shifts a shy glance from Rou'x to her dragon, and then comes down on her knees beside her brother. "Congratulations," the Weyrsecond says after a brief silence, turning a smile onto Rou'x and reaching out as if to ruffle her hair. If she allows the contact, he does just that. If not, well, he'll just keep smiling that smile of his. Either way, the man is continuing with, "Teimyrth knew all along that you'd be bonding with one of his children. I think he would tell you how proud he was if he wasn't so busy acting like he didn't care." Which earns a rather indelicate snort from the bronze sire, though he does move a little closer, lowering his head to get a better look at the freshly bonded pair.

With very few airs and graces to speak of, Rou'x allows the hair-ruffling, and doesn't even attempt to smoothe it down afterward. "Cheers, sir. And Teimyrth. It's all thanks to you, y'know." There's a very warm smile (less lopsided this time!) for the Weyrsecond and his bronze, which is turned into a wink for the little girl beside them. Indianath has nothing to add, save for the breathy whiffling of a sleeping dragonet, and the occasional twitch of his paws. "He's dreaming. I think he's got it from my head, because he's dreaming about Ista's forests. I reckon he'll be disappointed to find he'll be too big to fit between the trees by the time he gets to see them for real!"

"No, Rou'x, it had nothing to do with me. That was all you, and who you are, and who your dragon wanted to be with." When the weyrling casts a wink in Kiltara's direction, the lass gives her quite the /look/, and then gains her feet rather abruptly. "I'm going to go and get some food," she informs her brother, and then reaches out a hand for Teimyrth with a smile. "C'mon, Tei," she croons, and the beast lifts his head obediently, winding past his lifemate and other obstacles to join Ila's doppleganger on her journey. Ila'den's brows go up, a look shot to his sister (who treats him to the sticking out of her tongue from over her shoulder) just as they disappear from the field, and then the Weyrsecond is heaving a sigh. "You women. You get older, and then the crazy comes out." It's said in playful tones, of course, half exasperation, half amusement. "Anyway, I'm sure you could find a forest big enough for him to fit in if you looked hard enough. A tree or two might suffer the consequences, but Ista isn't the only place filled with green, and he'd probably enjoy every minute of it." A pause, and then, "How are you enjoying weyrlinghood so far?"

"That's maybe so, but y'know, I wouldn't've been here at Western if you two'd not forgotten that bag on the beach that day, yeah?" Rou'x grins, curling her arms around her legs as she tucks them up to her chest. How she's enjoying weyrlinghood is answered with a huge, very toothy smile. "Oh, man, it's fuc— I mean, it's bloody /brilliant/. Indianath makes /anything/ worth it… it was weird at first, but it's /right/. I can't imagine how I ever did /anything/ without him in my head before, y'know? He's everything I never knew I wanted and so much more." Her honey-hued eyes turn towards her lifemate's head, and she grins soppily. "Shards, he's too amazing for my words to describe."

Ila'den shifts back to his full height, moving so that he can settle himself on the ground beside Rou'x instead of right in front of her. He leans forward just slightly to take a look at her lifemate when she speaks of him, leathers protesting, and gives her a soft, half-smile when he turns his attention back onto her. "Then I guess more than anything, the bag is to thank. I knew the damn thing was up to something… Anyway, don't worry, Rou'x. I'm not going to chew your ear off for saying fuck. Mind it in front of the others, of course, but there's no need for formalities or formal speech when it's just me and you." Now the Weyrsecond is reaching his hand out towards Indianath, pausing just above the little brown's head as he turns grey eyes beseechingly onto Rou'x. "I know exactly what you mean. I told Theicherwell, Ir'e now, I supposethat you never fully realize just how much of you was missing until they come along. I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying his company, though. It makes all of the restrictions you have to go through now completely worth it." Pause. "May I touch him?" Because he's been waiting!

Rou'x gives an eager nod of her head to the bronzerider. "'course you can! He's so frickin' soft… and he /smells/ good, too. Sorta like… like old leather. Y'know, when you've got a leather bag that's been through /everything/, through muck 'n water 'n everything else? It sorta smells weathered. Indy smells like that, like that and like - like big things are gonna happen. That doesn't really make sense though, does it? Only it /does/, to me." Babbling a bit, she swings herself around onto her knees, resting her hands on Indianath's belly, where leather-brown meets khaki. "All them urges I had before the Hatching? The wanting to get laid and all that? Couldn't care less, now. Them restrictions're all good with me."

Ila's hands come down on the head of the little dragon, brushing gently along his maw. It might be slightly awkward, because he has to lean across Rou'x to achieve it, but he's quick about the touches, and laughing softly. "It makes sense to another dragonrider," the bronzerider assures, "Teimyrth smells like a blizzard. Cold, and pine, and sometimes fire." As for the urges, well, Ila'den's head is dropping back for a round of hearty laughter, and then he's looking at the weyrling again with amusement. "Well that's good. It was the opposite for me, I fear. I had no desires or urges before the hatching, but after, well… There was a little minx named Iris, and touching her when I wasn't allowed to was my greatest guilty pleasure." Now the Weyrsecond is giving her a wicked smile, lowering his voice to a whisper, "Nothing explicit, of course, but kissing her kept me sane." And the rest, as they say, is history.

The laugh is returned, any awkwardness ignored - if it's even noticed in the first place. Rou'x grins lopsidedly at Ila'den, reaching across to bump her elbow off him and click her tongue. "F'now they're gone, but who's to say they won't come on back in a few sevendays or so? F'now, he's all I need, and I reckon I'm too tuckered out to even think about getting them sorta kicks from someone, anyway. But later… heh. There's always room for a bit of covert cuddling, right, sir? Not that you heard me /say/ that, o'course…"

The elbowing earns Rou'x more laughter, and has him leaning to the side just enough to very gently knock his head against the younger woman's. "I imagine a bit of covert cuddling is acceptable, though you /certainly/ never heard /that/ from me. I'd just be wary of those kitchen counters. Iris and I put them to /very/ good use during our weyrlinghood." Now there's another wicked smile, an 'eh, eh?' bit of elbowing into Rou'x side, and the Weyrsecond lets off with a bit of exasperation. "And for Faranth's sake, it is /Ila'den/. The next one of you lot who calls me 'Sir' is running laps around Western. See if I don't make it happen." … Not that it probably won't be happening soon enough, anyways. "So then, is there somebody specific who is going to be entitled to these cuddles, or are you the type who gets 'them sorta kicks' at your own leisure?" Because he is nosy, and the Weyrsecond has never been known for his tact.

"I'm never gonna look at food here the same again," Rou'x says with mock despair. "Ain't that a bit unsanitary? Shagging on the kitchen counters?" She shakes her head and tuts, then rolls her eyes at the thought of laps. "/Ila/. Ila-Ila-Ila." Tactless or not with the question that follows, Ila'den gets a shrug and a raise of thick brown brows in response. "Y'know, I dunno if there's anyone in particular. I'd kinda hoped Ryeokie would be here with me… but it didn't work out that way, did it? So… I dunno, y'know? Might have to be running on a bit o'my own steam for a while, if there's no-one I can coerce into a bit o'cotside smooching. Though there /were/ two who I reckoned I might get a bit of something something from /before/ the Hatching… whether they're still interested or not now's another matter though, yeah?"

And the laughter just keeps coming. "/Shagging/? Is that what they call it now adays?" LIKE HE IS SO OLD. "Well I assure you, I have much more respect for my lady than that, and I had no desire for Teimyrth to broadcast questions of /what/ exactly we were doing, and what was going /where/ to the entire weyr. No, there were only kisses that we exchanged, and I found her quite the picture sitting up on the counters with her—" A pause, a clearing of his throat, and oh how wicked the Weyrsecond looks again. Brows go up, mischievous, and Ila'den is saying, "It's also my favorite when she says my name precisely like /that/." Now the man is laughing again, because he is /purposely/ toeing lines in an attempt to make the girl squirm. He is /quite/ fond of squirming. "Maybe you can catch up with Ryeokie after you've graduated, but /two/ others? You are quite the adventurous one, aren't you? Aren't you worried about a complicated tangle of jealousy and emotions?"

Rou'x's not squirming, not one bit. She's quite comfortable with the conversation, as she leans back against sleeping Indianath's belly again. "Y'mean you liked her up on there with her thighs all parted, so you could get in between 'em?" She demonstrates, with her own trouser-clad, amply sized pins. "No better place than that for smoochin', right?" Her arms come out as if she's got them wrapped around someone's shoulders, and she winks at Ila'den. His question of jealousy earns a raspberry. A big PFFTy one. "Feh, jealousy? Dunno about that. Rivalry, maybe? I reckon they were squaring off to see who might've been the better lay, and I'd offer myself up to be right there in the middle as judge, yeah? But then I also reckon they're too much into each other, so they mightn't be needing a judge f'nothing." Roux shrugs. "I'm gonna see Ryeokie soon's I can, I hope. We'd already planned for one of us being here and t'other in Ista, I just guess I didn't expect to have my boy here," Indy is stroked lovingly, "t'keep me from seeing him sooner. Rye n' I might maybe have something in the future. Dunno what's there between us though, yet."

When Rou'x demonstrates, Ila'den gives her legs a push /closed/, even while he laughs. "Oh, we will be having none of that here." As for the raspberry, Ila'den's brows rise in an inquisitive manner, right before he returns the gesture with the sticking out of his tongue. Wonder where Kiltara learned it? Here's the master himself! "Well, I would be careful about men and rivalry. It might seem all fun and games, but I know I would kill the man who thought he could get between myself and Iris, and I /have/ killed men before, when they tried to take her away from me." Is Ila joking? Is he serious? There's no laughter in his eyes when he says the last, and then the Weyrsecond is pushing himself to his feet, shifting before offering her another one of those easy, roguish smiles. "I think I would check on the future with Ryeokie first, because if the other two are fond of each other, might be only him who has a problem with any such kind of arrangement. No use in getting hurt, or hurting anybody in the process of having fun. The people to have a minor fling with are easy to find. It's the ones who want to stick around that're hard—or the ones /you/ want to stick around, if you're anything like me. I'll leave you to your lifemate and your thoughts, Rou'x. I have a little sister to go check on, as Teimyrth informs me she's starting fights." And with a waggle of fingers, the Weyrsecond is turning on his heels, taking long strides to intercept the inevitable.

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