Something Special

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrleaders' Office
Office and retreat, this is the domain of Xanadu's Weyrleaders. The door is in the southern wall, quite close to the western end while the northern wall is dominated by big, expansive windows, framed by sumptuous deep blue drapes edged with a brilliant gold braid and tied back with a thick rope of braided gold and blue cord. In between, the western wall is covered floor to ceiling with shelves that house all sorts of records, manuals and supplies that are used on a day-to-day basis.
The southern wall has the Weyrleader's desk — plain fellis wood, well polished and masculine. From behind his desk, the Weyrleader can look straight through the windows and out onto the main airspace of Xanadu. The eastern wall is where the Weyrwoman's desk resides: a lovely piece of furniture made of warm cherry wood. From her seat, a glance sideways gives her an equally good prospect out the window. There are a few other seats, some comfortably arranged around a low round table for small, informal meetings while there also some that can be drawn up to one of the desks.
On the west side of the door, the space is occupied by a low oblong table where refreshments can be set without someone needing to intrude. There is also an 'incoming' tray where incoming correspondence or similar items can be left.

IT'S A DAY. A NEW DAY. And Risa? Risa is on the floor in the middle of the office, on a mat that she rolled out, doing stretches while staring out of the window. IT'S ONE OF THOSE DAYS, D'LEI. It's the kind of one of those days that means the look on Risali's face communicates very clearly that the wrong word might end in a very unfortunate (and very untimely) death for the issuer. FEW ARE SAFE, and perhaps that's why there's a distinct lack of people-who-need-something lining up at Risali's desk; perhaps they took the safer routes, by going to the Headwoman instead of ALL THE WAY UP THE CHAIN. Thunk. That would be Risa's head meeting mat-floor in what seems suspiciously like defeat, even if she brings one arm over her chest and uses the other to hook and press up at the elbow. One, two, three… "This isn't helping." Who is that for? D'LEI? NOBODY? EVERYBODY? Mystery! But there's a sigh before she switches to the other arm and stares up at the ceiling, attempting to divine secrets from it.

"Have you tried turning it off and back on again?" D'lei asks, because he is a tech, and he's just as helpful as technical support is supposed to be. He's also sitting at his desk, taking advantage of the shocking (not really, have you met Risa (today)) lack of people to go down through some files that he keeps getting interrupted when he tries to read them… or he was, up until that interruption. It was still more progress than most days in the office!

"Can we turn off people, D'lei? Are you giving me special permission as the technically-head-of-the-guards-and-all-the-scary-things person?" CORRUPTION, ALL THE WAY AT THE TOP. "Because I'm pretty sure people don't turn back on again when you turn them off." When you execute their power supply, that is. Up Risali rolls, sitting with her legs crossed, eyes focused on D'lei from where he sits ONCE MORE INTERRUPTED in his plight to catch up on so much work. One elbow finds her knee, Risali sinks her chin into her hand, and those fingers curl up towards her lips as she just… watches the weyrleader. Maybe she's divining secrets from him too. "Besides, I don't think… what do they call it… patricide?" A beat. "I'm pretty sure patricide is illegal in every hold and weyr." Every single one of them. "… Do you think Leirith can pass as a renegade?"

"…yeah, see, that's the problem. If you can turn them back on, you can do it, buuut…" Only Doctor Frankenstein is allowed to murder here at Xanadu, and only if he promises to make a monster out of it. D'lei leans back in his chair, ignoring the papers that he's not going to be able to focus on for the moment anyhow, and gives a crooked grin. "Well, there's your problem. Why'd you go and be related to him, anyhow?" Seriously, Risa. WHAT MADE YOU THINK ILA WAS A GOOD IDEA? SRSLY. D'lei hooks his hands behind his head, leaning back on them, and gives a straightforward answer to at least one of Risali's questions. Can Leirith pass? "Nope."

"You let them transfer here. All it took was one lunch with Citayla," who is very persuasive, let none of us be fooled, "and you caved. Like a… like a big caver." WOAH, INSULTS AHOY. Nevermind that it was probably Risa's idea to begin with. "You were just like, 'R'hyn, and Cita, and Ila'den all in one weyr - perfect,' and I am not the one who keeps finding him under my desk. You are." Because Ila'den. Sense of humor. Worst. But there's no real fire or heat behind her words, even if the denial of Renegade Leirith has Risali rolling her eyes and thunking back onto her back, head and upper shoulders coming down on the mat as she goes back to stretching. "We could give her an eyepatch, nobody would know." SEE? PERFECT PLAN. But… there are other important things. Things that have Risali going still… relaxing and… "Dash." This time her voice is soft, her expression losing some of the edge granted by annoyance before she continues. "The weyrlings are graduating soon." A beat. "Do you… Should we do something for them? Like… a party? Or…" A stretch of fingers in a hopeless gesture. "That's traditional, right? But… something special?" What would make it be that way? Maybe that's where she's really floundering.

"I know." D'lei frowns to Risali. "I feel betrayed, really. They told me it would be R'hyn that ended up under my desk." He shakes his head. "That's what I get, I suppose." He gets Ila'den. Who is the worst, and can definitely be blamed for all of this. "Besides, I'm pretty sure if I'd said no, Citayla would have given me the dessert that didn't have the antidote." What? He's allowed to have a sense of self preservation. Sometimes. Occasionally. At least… for some things. There's a wry smile as renegades turn to weyrlings, and then… "For some of them, I'm pretty sure "being allowed to leave" is the most special thing they could possibly have asked for." He grins.

It's suspiciously quiet. Too quiet. Probably because Risali is crawling her way over to D'lei's desk and POPPING UP, sudden and PROBABLY TOTALLY EXPECTED to bring her hands down on the top of it and pull herself up sloooooowly, slowwwwwwly, just enough for D'lei to see the DISGUST AND SCORN as she faux-whispers, "You wanted R'hyn under your desk?" A beat. "Now who's the traitor?" IT'S YOU, D'LEI. YOU THE TRAITOR. And then Risali kind of… limp-noodle flops, right onto D'lei's desk and all that paperwork. There's another exhale, and when she lifts her head up again, it's with a very important document clinging to her cheek. SHE DOESN'T TRY TO REMOVE IT. THERE'S HARDLY ANY DIGNITY TO BE FOUND IN THIS OFFICE, D'LEI. "I guess that's true. Still… Maybe we could…" A beat. "No. That wouldn't be special. What if we did special gifts for all of them? It doesn't have to be personalized, but maybe we can look into gloves or… something like that for each of them? That way their hands can be cozy when they leave."

"Excuse me," D'lei retorts, offended - OFFENDED - beyond all measure and reason. "That's renegade to you, missy." Seriously, insult him right or don't insult him at all! Traitor would imply he had any loyalty to begin with, and he is a weyr abandoner. He grins, then, and reaches out to scritch behind Risali's ear, as though she is a giant cat who has just come to pounce his paperwork and sprawl across it. As cats do. "What about goggles? The weyrling ones are always pretty scratched," because baby dragons and glass, "and they may not think to get their own." He grins. "Everyone wears gloves, but they probably never wore goggles before we told them it was that or corneal damage."

Risali even makes a sound for ear-scritches, so maybe D'lei isn't so far off the mark on that kitty-cat bit. "Well, he's terrible in bed, for what it's worth." Not that Risali remembers (and shut up, she's not blushing, YOU'RE BLUSHING), "In fact, I distinctly remember yelling, 'Please stop!'" DOES SHE? DID SHE? And now, in complement of so much catting, Risali pulls herself up onto the desk, onto all fours, maybe knocking down a few paper-casualties as she crawls across it and… plops right onto her bottom in front of D'lei, tucking besocked feet into his lap as she presses elbows to knees and chin to palms, leaning towards the weyrleader as grey eyes, once more, take him in. "You'd be the wrong kind of renegade," she whispers, whatever that means, and one of those hands breaks away to come up and trace along D'lei's hairline, curling behind his ear as if tucking away a wayward strand. "And then I would have to trade my morals on top of my virtue in order to stay with you, and then where would we be? Virtueless, immoral, propriety-impoverished… bad people." There's a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, as grey eyes jump from tracking her own hand back to his eyes, and then she parts with YET ANOTHER SIGH and tucks that hand back under her chin. A beat, as her attention rolls up towards the ceiling and… a nod. "Yeah… Yeah, I think goggles actually would be a really good idea. Maybe we can get the commissioned in the colors of their dragon's hides - something that's unique to them without being too much."

D'lei grins, because that's apparently how he blushes, and gives a sage nod as Risali takes her feline perogative to knock things off the desk. He circles arms lightly around her hips as she sits, then laughs. "Is that why you keep me here, hmm?" he asks her with a playful tease. "Because it'd cost too much to get rid of me?" It's like being valuable! Kind of. Ish. "The legacy of Xanadu… D'legacy." Okay, he's started giving himself new names. This is probably a sign of megalomania or something, and should only be encouraged if you really truly want to see where it goes. He nods at the idea of colored goggles, though… "Yeah. And if they hate it," because hey, he doesn't know what design preferences these weyrlings might have, "the lenses are the valuable part anyhow. They can get the leather replaced."

Risali presses even closer, until her nose is pressed to the tip of his and her hands have to come out to settle on his shoulders in order to keep herself from toppling into his lap and losing ALL VIRTUE prior to their renegade escape. "No," she executes with emphasis. "I keep you because you're good at your job, and I like the view. Just imagine if I got stuck with another Weyrleader - any of them." SHE GIVES HIM A MOMENT TO LET THAT SINK IN, and then she shudders with feigned revulsion. "I'd kill them. We'd have to repaint the weyr in red just to cover up the fact that nobody ever makes it back out of this office alive." And now she's pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose before leaning back, shifting her footing and bringing elbows back to knees, chin back to hands. And… she laughs. "D'legacy." Nope. She's gone. GIVE HER A MOMENT. FIVE. FIFTEEN. TWENTY. When she finally gets herself back together, that smile doesn't leave - not from her lips or her eyes as she watches the Weyrleader for a long moment, and then gives him another nod. "Or they can do something entirely less pleasant, but I feel like your more… professional suggestion is best."

D'lei laughs, and he tilts his head up to kiss at Risali's chin before she leans back. His arms remain in place there around her hips, which is - admittedly - dangerously close to the unvirtuous (or at least, the tempting thereofs) zones, but he has willpower, okay? It's another of his virtues - er, vices. Virtuous vices? Uh …. it's a thing. ANYHOW. It's part of his D'legacy, to be passed on through the generations, a gift like (and yet utterly unlike) those goggles. "Look, if they want to smash them into a hundred pieces, that's their perogative." He grins. "And it's mine to point and laugh at them when they get glass in their riding leathers and end up looking like they went through an Igen sandstorm."

Mmm, kisses. Risali's eyes close for chin-kisses, but she doesn't pursue them; she's just contented by them, sated to be in D'lei's arms without having to be in his arms - for now, anyway. Give her a few hours and freedom from having to sport her title, and that story JUST MIGHT CHANGE. For now, she exercises her own willpower, and makes a soft hum in her throat that says she's thinking about this (even if she's not thinking too hard about this). "And it will be mine to make sure that their next pair of goggles comes at twice the price." Not really. She wouldn't do that, but THE THOUGHT IS NICE. So give her a moment more, and Risali is reaching unceremoniously for one of those papers, staring at it before making a face at its contents and setting it back down with a nice little patpatpat that says she is happy she doesn't have to deal with that one. "I suppose I should let you get back to work, and go put that order in." That sigh says that she doesn't really want to, but she does catch D'lei's face between both of her hands, curling fingers in against his jaw and dragging them down before she presses her lips to his in a kiss that's chaste despite the fact that she lingers. And just like that, she's lowering herself down from his desk without breaking contact, not until she's starting that backwards movement that means she has to part with him eventually. Teeth come down on her bottom lip, maybe she backs into her desk, and finally she turns to pick up a piece of paper and a pen, to scribble quick notes on it before striding for the door - bootless. "Don't let D'merial in here, D'lei. I mean it. I'm still finding rose petals tucked away in drawers from his last attempt to seduce us." And out she goes. FOR GOGGLES! AWWYIS.

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