Xanadu Weyr - Twisted Tower Weyr
Set back about a dragonlength and a half from the beach proper and surrounded by waving seagrasses, a tall tower looms over the shore. The towering gray structure appears to be three, maybe four stories tall and almost seems to sway in the wind off the lake. The round tower, itself, looks like it could fall down at any moment, crushing the small, newly constructed stone cottage behind it. A pair of large, wide doors lead into the tower, large enough, when wide open, to allow a large green to enter the bottom level of the tower, which appears big enough for a small brown to curl up inside.
Once in the tower, it is evident that the dilapidated exterior is a deliberate affectation. The inside walls are smooth and straight, if a little weathered. The floor is covered in a thick layer of rushes and sweet smelling herbs, the perfect place for a lazy dragon to bed down. A staircase spirals around the wall, leading up through a ceiling with heavy exposed beams. The door at the top of the stairs leads into a large, open room filled almost floor to ceiling in plants at various stages of growth and brightly illuminated by grow lights. A few stools are scattered around strategically, perfectly placed at tables set up for planting.
Back on the bottom floor, a human-sized door leads into the cottage’s tiny kitchen. The little dwelling is open concept, the kitchen separated from the rest of the first floor by a tile floor that cuts off abruptly for the pale hardwood of the rest of the living space. There’s a tiny table with four chairs surrounding it between the kitchen and a seating area at the far side of the building. A staircase leads up to a full height loft containing a comfortable looking bedroom directly above the seating area. A small white and pale blue bathroom is tucked away in the far corner of the building containing a fair sized glass and riverstone shower, a toilet, and a fair sized vanity with a single sink. A second door on the long wall opposite the stairs leads back outside.
Ugh… Kasle rolls over in bed and draws her knees up to her chest, laying on her side. Why? Why has she been waking up feeling sick for the last sevenday? She’s fine after she gets up and actually gets going, but the first couple of hours of the day are miserable— like her stomach is rebelling against a long night of drinking and wanting to return everything she’s ever eaten in retaliation. Ugh! And she hasn’t even had anything to drink since before Dovirauth found her on the sands!
« Are you okay, mine? » The vast spaces of Dovirauth’s voice are dark with concern for his lifemate.
Well drat. She’d been trying to keep her illness away from the blue. Unfortunately, even after two turns, Kasle hasn’t figured out how to mask things like that from her dragon. It might not ever be possible. She sighs, reaching for the glass of water beside her bed and sitting up just enough to take a tiny, cautious sip. She gags, slightly, but fights it back, « I’ll be fine, love. » The young bluerider swallows hard a couple of times, managing to not throw up, « Just feeling a little under the weather. » Her stomach rolls and she groans, flopping down and burying her face against the mattress.
« Whatever you say… » Uncertainty sends heat shimmers across the featureless plain of the blue’s mindscape, wrapping comfortingly around his chosen person.
With another groan, Kas pushes herself up and slips to the edge of the bed, rising and forcing herself to get ready for the day. Ugh… stairs. Why did she get a weyr with the bedroom upstairs and the only bathroom tucked away underneath it? She’s sore from training, the last month riding with Galaxy a hard one, but satisfying. Right now, she’s actually leaning toward asking to be tapped into the Search and Rescue wing, but there’s still one more month before they’re fully graduated. Sure, Dovirauth would complain bitterly about it, but the hooded blue complains about everything, anyway. Finally downstairs and in the bathroom, the former gardener takes care of her morning ritual, preparing for the day, « I’ll go check in with the healers after today’s training, if it will make you feel better. » She’s starting to get concerned, herself…
The promise is greeted by an overwhelming nothingness— warmth and light and dark, a featureless plain, or perhaps a glass smooth ocean without a hint of breeze, that meets a matching sky at an invisible horizon far in the distance— wrapping around Kasle’s mind. Dovirauth’s relief almost bringing his rider to her knees.
The young rider, so close to whirling graduation, suddenly pales, “Oh shells.” Her voice is quiet, black eyes wide in dread, as she counts back on her fingers to that afternoon at Monaco where Dovirauth suddenly decided to stretch his wings and chase a proddy green. Who’s rider was a guy. “Faranth.” The curse is a little more emphatic and she quickly finishes getting ready, running halfway up the stairs before having to return to the small bathroom to vomit into the toilet.
« Mine? » The sudden rattle of swords echoes through the emptiness the blue wraps his rider in, « Mine! What’s wrong?! » There’s a rattle at the door leading out to his tower at the opposite end of the small cottage as Dovi tries very hard to open it with paws not built for opening doors. He can feel the young woman’s panic and it triggers his protective instinct, the need to shield her from harm. A framed portrait of Kasle’s family falls, the frame cracking, as the diminutive blue tries to just come through the wall.
“No.” The word comes out as a croak and Kasle clears her throat, speaking loud enough for her roughly choked voice to carry to the blue on the other side of the wall, “No, Dovi. I’m okay, love.” She will be, anyway. She calls her round little bronze to her as she moves to a desk tucked in the corner beside the bathroom and scribbles out a quick note, rolling it up and handing it to the firelizard, “Toast. Take this to N’varre. Take it to N’varre, Toast. And come right back!” She infuses her thoughts with urgency and need as he jumps off the desk and disappears *between* with a pop. Her hand shakes slightly as she composes a few more notes, informing those that need to know that she’s going to be late to training because she’s making a stop at the infirmary, first. Letters written, she rolls them up and takes them with her back up to her bedroom to finish getting dressed, calling Nimare to her and repeating the process with the pitch dark green to send the next message. Once everyone has been informed who needs to know, the former gardener slings her heavy riding jacket on and makes her way into Dovirauth’s tower to buckle the deep russet straps around the diminutive blue, “I’ll be okay, my love. I just need to check in with the healers.” He lowers his dark hooded pale blue head so that she can wrap her arms around his great muzzle, rubbing her cheek against the soft, velvety hide, voice sounding slightly choked with nerves, “I think we might be going to have a baby.”