Xanadu Weyr - Glade
Surrounded by majestic trees with their boughs spread outward in the ovalesque clearing so as to create a gentle filtering of the light on the glade floor, this little area of paradise located in the depths of the forest that surrounds Xanadu Weyr makes its debut. Tiny flowers with their upturned pistils of yellow, pink, red and blue scatter here and there, some of them with definitive petals that glisten in what light is supplied, and others appearing like tiny balls of fuzz or fluff, with stamen so fine that to distinguish between themselves and the petals is nearly impossible. Their leaves are of all different shapes and sizes, some coming up to shield the blooms during the day and thus only allowing their beauty to be seen at night.
One thing that makes this area of the weyr so popular with the residents and riders would be the small moon pool that is situated directly center of the glade where even the longest of the tree limbs cannot reach. The water is smooth as glass, as the trees cause such a wind break that nothing ever disturbs it. The reflection of the moonlight at night confuses the flowers around it, so they sleep all day, and then their magnificent blooms open during the night. Concrete benches have been situated about the pool for people to sit and enjoy these rare occurrences in relaxation.
It's high noon with the sun directly overhead causing the snow to blaze and sparkle, glinting off the ice coating the branches of tree and shrub alike. Though still winter and still cold enough that the fluffy snow remains unmelted despite the sunny day, the wind has stilled. This helps quite a bit to make being outside less torture, even comfortable if one is dressed properly. While most of the forest is bare to the sky and thus open at this time of the year, this glade is surrounded by evergreens - lacy cedars that shield it from the rest of the area, giving it and the moon pool inside a sense of isolation. miah is here rather than at lunch but she's not sitting quietly in contemplation on one of those concrete benches, noooo. Believing herself to be quite alone, the pink-cheeked girl is on the frozen water of the moon pool, zipping around, her bootsoles slipping on the sheer ice, jacket undone and a great big, pleased grin on her face. Soft giggles float out of the glade now and then, otherwise all is quiet in this part of the forest.
If instead she were sitting in quiet contemplation she might hear the approaching crunch of Matrin's boots through the snow. As it is, there's a very good chance that when he follows the trail of her girlish giggles he can arrive unannounced and unnoticed. He chooses one of the few deciduous trees that ring the glade, leaning a shoulder against the frost covered bark of the bare trunk to watch her for a moment or two. When her slip-sliding turns her face his way he lifts the thermos he carries, giving it a little wiggle as if the navy of his coat and the vivid green of his scarf might not be enough to make him stand out against the snow. "Any chance you might take a break for some hot sweet klah?"
If it were anyone but Matrin she'd seen standing there observing her when she'd turned, Mishkia would be chagrined indeed. But for him there's a perky wave as she hops down off the stone lip of that pool, which really isn't big enough to be a proper skate rink anyway. She skips on over with an easy smile on her lips and greets him with, "There's a slim chance I could oblige, given the proper incentive." Someone is in a bit of a giddy mood, hair a tumbled mess, eyes brilliant, gloves and cap have long since been tossed aside when she'd worked up the heat with all her sliding around. Tilting her head to peer up at him, lowering lashes to the glare of the overhead sun, she asks brightly, "What brings you from the warmth to the glacial frozen places today? I thought you'd be working."
Chagrin would have made him smirk, but her easy joy is even better. It inspires a wide smile - sparkling blue eyes and a flash of white teeth - as she comes skipping over. Rather than offering her the thermos he reaches out his other hand to catch at hers, pulling her close enough for him to look over her flushed cheeks and tumbled hair with growing pleasure. "You're so beautiful," he tells her, lacing his fingers lightly through hers. "I thought the hot klah was the incentive. No?" Her narrowed eyes have him sneaking a glance over his shoulder and he shifts around, guiding her by her hand, until the bright sun is blocked by the tree trunk. "I was working. I thought I would take a break and see if I could convince a pretty girl to take a walk with me. While I was searching for one I heard this giggling, and lo and behold I found a beautiful young lady instead." Up go his brows at the end of what is intended as charming.
He can smirk at her sudden chagrin at the word 'beautiful' though? It is, however short-lived and despite being accompanied by a shy sort of, "Thanks!" and a flash of grey inscrutability from under her lashes, Mishkia regains her equilibrium the next moment. By the time he asks about the klah, she dimples up at him. "The incentive would be not having to drink it alone, Mister. I'm assuming you didn't hike all the way out here just to drop it off and then leave simply to keep me from freezing?" Despite the cold, her fingers are warm from her exertions but they curl 'round his without hesitation anyway. "If you can settle for me, I'll walk with you." Chipper and charmed both.
Her chagrin, however brief, makes him give her hand a little tug. "I am going to tell you until it stops making you give me that look," Matrin warns with his crooked grin as he looks down at her. "And if my company is better incentive than fresh brewed, sweet and creamed klah on a day like this, you may need to get out more." But he's teasing as he releases her hand long enough to unscrew the top and hand her the thermos which immediately throws up a cloud of aromatic steam. "And there is not a bit of settling when it comes to you, and you know it. Though if you'd rather slide around on the pond that looks fun too."
Mishkia laughs lowly at that hand tug, warning him lightly, "You'll make me vain and spoiled if you do, but I won't argue with getting out more. I like being out." While the smile on her lips is secretive, she accepts the thermos readily enough, lifts it in a sort of toast and quips, "To flattery and bribery, both of which will get you- hmm. Maybe I'd better not say. You'll run away screaming like a girl or something." She twinkles a wink before sipping, wincing as the hot liquid touches her lips. Offering to share, she holds the thermos out to him, wipes the back of her mouth with her other hand, grey eyes brimming with merriment over palm as she does so.
"If I am the one to spoil you, I think that is perfectly acceptable. And you could stand to be a little more vain, too." Matrin's wink is just as teasing, though there's something serious in the depths of his usually bright eyes as he watches her drink. "To true admiration and the effort to sweep you off your feet," he corrects as he accepts the thermos. Her wince has him blowing a stream of cooling air across the surface before he takes a cautious sip and then he holds the container out for an assessing peer. "This thermos is better than I thought. I might need to go back to Ierne and get another." The comment is absent, offhand, and he tucks the cap into a pocket before snatching her hand back into his. "So, walking or sliding, which is it m'lady?"
If Mishkia notices that serious something she doesn't remark upon it, although there's an unintentional answering flicker of wonderment in her own eyes. Lightly, "Perhaps I should expect that, since I once did the same to you." Meaning her leg-sweep back at Mire Hold - ever the literal-minded one, she is. A sigh of contentment escapes her lips as her hand is reclaimed; unaware that she's even done that though. She answers him promptly and in total innocence, "Since I'm so hot, you should walk with me." Her hand flips at the frozen pool dismissing it from consideration before asking curiously, "Ierne… that's where people… go to shop? What's it like there?"
Her literal interpretation makes Matrin let out a low chuckle, and he shakes his head. "Yes, that is exactly what I meant. I want to knock you over." The tease that laces his words doesn't quite reach the weighing eyes he turns down towards her at that little sigh, and he runs his thumb over the back of her knuckles. "Hot! Now listen to yourself. Maybe I should have been more concerned about that vanity thing." But he's already turning toward the gap in the trees where the path leads out of the glade, taking her hand in his and sliding them both into his pocket to keep them warm. "It's nice. Tropical, lots of people from all over, lots of things to see." He pauses his words but not his steps, adding a casual, "Maybe we should go sometime."
Mishkia laughs then, a rich warm peal, bumping his shoulder with hers, "I'll sneak up on you from behind when you aren't expecting it then, shall I? And you can give it a try." The dance of her eyes and the up-down motion of coppery brows is telling that she's deliberately misconstrued the whole 'sweeping you off your feet' thing from the get-go. "I am hot!" She protests with a softly snorted laugh, flapping her still-open jacket once with her other hand before she slides it up under her hair at the back of her neck, flips it and points her nose skyward in a show of feigned vanity, "Pretty fast teaching there, Matrin. You're good." She sends him an impish and sidelong look while inside his pocket, her fingers wriggle teasingly. Then he's mentioning Ierne and going there. Her grey eyes widen a touch, and she drops the act to ask brightly, but with complete ignorance, "Oh, now? Is that where you are walking to? Yes, let's go! How far is it, a mile or two?"
Matrin feigns nervousness, nibbling his lip and then shaking his head. "No, if you do that I'll probably just scream like a girl and lose all the manly points I have labored so extensively to build up. Or!" He lifts one finger of his free hand, stalling any comment she might make. "Or I might be a strong and burly man and accidentally hurt you for real, which would never do." He offers the thermos back to her, though he hasn't made any move to let her wiggling fingers escape either his grasp or the warmth of his pocket. All the demonstrations of her hotness make him chuckle and he tsks softly, shooting her a teasing grin. "Careful now, I won't be able to restrain myself if you do much more of that. Then your honor will be sullied and Gabit will have my head." He sneaks a peek into the trees as if checking for an incoming swipe of a stick even now. Then he blinks and his attention abruptly falls back to those wide pale eyes. "Oh, no. It's an island. The sort you generally travel to on a dragon." Oh so casual. "And haven't you been studying local maps lately? You should know there's no Ierne anywhere near here, young lady."
And Mishkia's mouth had opened to make some sort of return quip when he holds up his finger and thus she just shuts it and grins instead. Her opposite hand reaches for that thermos, but her eyes follow his into the woods before she smirks, "Gabit took a quick trip home to check on things, so I think you're safe with me for now." And they both know how safe that is says the glimmer in her eyes over that lifted thermos she's about to take a sip from. It's an island he says and she nods in a matter of fact way. "There's a bridge to it, right? There are islands dotting this area of the Sea of Azov. And those ruins weren't labeled, so maybe Ierne isn't either?" What does she know? Oh, but then the words 'on a dragon' sink in and all her bright ebullience evaporates. Her feet stop walking, that thermos hovers unsipped from and she goes very still.
Matrin lifts one dark brow at her words on Gabit and he squints off into the trees. "That so? Then I really should be making better use of the time, shouldn't I?" His smirk at her glittering eyes takes whatever real suggestive edge the words might have had and dulls it to something more teasing. Then he's shaking his head to her bridge assumptions and about to correct her when she goes still beside him. Her hand drags him back from one aborted step, and he uses the momentum to turn on a toe and face her with watchful eyes. "Mishkia, sweetheart, don't look that way." His free hand reaches up to lightly cup her cheek. "Wouldn't you sometime like to give it a try? Maybe if I was with you?"
Mishkia's arm remains frozen, crooked with that half-lifted thermos between them. He didn't just lightly say something like, 'oh well, it was just a thought, going to Ierne' and thus the look he finds in her eyes with that question of his is one of stark fear. When his hand cups her suddenly paled cheek, her lips part to say something but not a sound issues forth. It takes her three tries - as there are no puffs of air floating from her, it's probably because she isn't breathing - before she manages a squeaked unintelligible answer that could mean anything.
Matrin's effected nonchalance melts into concern, and though there are no little puffs of white breath coming from her, he lets out a long sight that becomes a visible stream from his mouth. "I'm sorry, beautiful, I didn't mean to upset you." His hand gently caresses her cheek, then slips up into the brightness of her tousled hair. "Though you could just say no instead of turning into a squeaky Mishkia statue." A lame attempt at humor, and he releases the hand in his pocket in favor of taking the thermos lest she drop it. "I think it would be a good experience for you, but I have to confess ulterior motives. Keziah is really missing Ashki and I suggested bringing her here on a dragon and that maybe you could help convince her that… it's not so bad." By the end he has run out of steam and the words go slower and more quiet, until he just sighs and leans to put his forehead against hers. "But I'm sure she'll be fine. Forget I mentioned it."
Mishkia's eyes remain wide and fixed on Matrin's. Still speechless, she at least begins breathing again and by the time he's finished her eyes sharpen at the mention of Keziah needing to see Ashki, visibly wrestling with the knowledge that she is needed and it's really only something she can do. She merely points to the sky without even looking up - all that open, exposed space. "They… go up there," she finally manages to tell him, as if he didn't know that already. It might be comical, the utter simplicity of thought, if it weren't for her having to stop and draw a breath after saying that, which is followed on the heels by another and yet another in increasing tempo.
"Hey," Matrin's voice is soft and gentle, and he quickly rubs her arms as if he might be able to encourage some warmth into her through the motion. "I did not mean to make you this upset, and I am sorry I didn't approach it more gingerly." Though concern is in the forefront of his eyes, he gives her a small, warm smile and lightly grasps her upper arms, steadying her. "I care about you… very much. I am never going to push you to do something you aren't ready to do, regardless of what it is, OK? If you aren't ready, we will find another way. Period." He dips his head, trying to keep eye contact and taking a nice slow breath of his own to encourage her to do the same. "And if you decide to try it, you will not be alone. OK?"
It takes her a few minutes and some effort to slow her breathing and for that fear to ebb from her eyes. Grateful for that steadying touch as the color returns to her face once more, Mishkia meets his eyes when he dips his head. There's a nod of understanding from her about not being pushed into anything and yet, some chagrin washes over the independent swamp-dweller's face, "I… I never thought I'd… need to…" Her eyes lift to the skies once more and she shudders beneath his hands, drops them to his, "There's no other way. Mama Ashki, I'm not sure she could make the trek here. Is something wrong with Keziah? I've been so busy studying, I haven't seen her in awhile."
When she relaxes, even if it is only a bit, some tension runs out of the line of Matrin's shoulders. "You know, you have had a ton of new experiences to deal with lately. A lot of firsts." It makes some hint of amusement trickle across the line of his mouth, but he wipes it quickly away. The sparkle in his eyes is less easily quelled, and he leaves his grip on her arms. "One step at a time just the same, alright? We can meet a dragon, then sit on one, then do a quick flight, that sort of thing. And only when you're ready." Her question makes a brow arch and he glances over her shoulder like he might be able to see the woman in question. "Not… wrong. Did you know she's pregnant?" One step at a time, right?
There's an answering gleam in Mishkia's eyes at that little word 'firsts' and her lips tweak into a little grin in spite her just-passed unease. She is swift to correct what she thinks is an assumption. With a return of her spunk, she flashes him a little grimace and tilts her chin to assure him wryly, "I'm not afraid of them! The one that flew right over my head that first day was unexpected is all. That was just my reflexes kicking in." But oh, she hasn't actually gone out of her way to meet any either and it's evident in the next question she poses, "Do they… ah, like people other than their riders to… hang around them? They don't seem like, um, pets or runners much." She nods about Keziah and draws a deep breath, "Yes, I know. But needing Ashki…" She sounds doubtful that it's simply missing the woman that lies at the need to head to Mire Hold a'dragonback.
Matrin catches that flash in Mishkia's big grey eyes and it deepens his smirk as he gives her arms a little squeeze. Right after that he releases her in favor of lifting both hands palm-out like he might need a shield. "Hold on there, I never said you were afraid. I wouldn't dream of suggesting it. Just that you have had a lot of things to deal with lately, and with all of that at once it can be a little overwhelming. A lot of people are less than comfortable with dragons at first." He shrugs, casting a glance up at the arch of blue over their little glade. "They're enormous, they have huge teeth, they fly. It's not unreasonable. But yes, in my experience some dragons like other people very much. Most are at least ok with it, especially those that fly transport. Even if they aren't at all like pets or runners." He pauses a beat, then says in a rush, "She's having triplets. Keziah is. I think it's been a rough time."
"And claws. Don't forget those." Mishkia says sagely, then laughs quietly at that palm-out gesture of Matrin's, lifts her hands to gently patpat them much like one would play pat-a-cake before twining her fingers through his if she can. "Ohhh but I am afraid," she tells him with a saucy head-toss. As if that weren't plainly evident a moment ago. "Just not of dragons." She leaves that to hang for the news of Keziah boggles her and it shows plainly on her face. "She's… she's not having a baby, she's having a herd! No wonder she's missing Mama Ashki."
Matrin allows that lacing of fingers with a smile, and drops their joined hands to dangle between them. "And claws. But they are also sentient, and not the type to hurt humans. At least not any I have ever met. And we'll be sure to find a sweet one for you." He shifts a little closer to her in the chill air, smiling down into her eyes. "And what is the incredible Lady Mire afraid of then?" As for a herd, he nods and allows a soft chuckle (no one tell Keziah). "She really is. She is also, if the rumors are to be believed, weyrmating with Ers'lan, even though Laera and he are already together. I haven't had a chance to talk to her about that aspect of it, but with all that and her fear of infirmaries, things are definitely complicated for her."
Mishkia laughs up into those bright blue eyes as Matrin steps closer, "Maybe being swept off my feet, who knows?" It's her attempt to make light of the very real fear he just witnessed a moment ago. She merely nods about dragons not hurting people; she's heard the dragonlore from the harpers who visited her hold and thus seems aware of this. Those terms he's tossing around are another thing altogether. One eye shuts, her nose wrinkles a tiny bit and the tip of her tongue peeps out between white teeth in a brief, but comical grimace. "Weyr… mating?" She isn't sure she wants to know, if the look on her face is anything to go by. She doesn't look like she recognizes the names, but complicated she gets, for her next words tell where her mind is going with all this new information, having put Mire Hold's interpretation on relationships, "Should I send for Gabit to guard Keziah from this… Laera?"
Her attempt fails miserably, because the teasing remark makes Matrin sober and concern seeps back into his eyes. "Yeah. Well, I said I wouldn't push you on anything you aren't comfortable with, and I meant that part of it too." He attempts a little smile, then lets go of his grip on her arms and takes a single step back. Dark brows lift and he his grin springs back when her whole face gets involved in trying to parse the term. "It's sort of like marriage for dragonriders… sort of. A committed relationship anyway." He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand across the back of his head. "A little different for different people, apparently." Discussing relastionships is awkward enough without it being Ers'lan's complicated one. He decides to just go with, "No I don't think that will be necessary. They all appear to be ok with the arrangement."
Mishkia's grey eyes cloud with confusion at that abrupt step back he takes. Puzzled and trying not to look hurt as her fingers slip from his hands when he releases them, she shakes her head, "I didn't- you aren't- I'm not-" She breaks off, dropping her eyes to stare at her upturned hands in momentary confusion, not seeming to know quite what to do with them and finally stuffs them in her pockets. Finally she takes a deep breath and simply nods a few times, opening her mouth begins to say something when his grin and explanation about Keziah forestalls her. A profound, "Huh," is all she can think to say to that sort of arrangement.
Well that wasn't the goal either. Matrin lets out a little sigh, running his fingers through his hair and mussing the neat combing. He mutters something inaudible, but probably some sort of curse, then reclaims that bit of space between them, putting his arms around her, hands in pockets and all. "Don't look like /that/ either," he murmurs, bending to drop a kiss on her forehead "This territory is just as foreign for me as it is for you in some ways, and I am just trying to…" another sigh escapes, and he gives her pinned arms a squeeze. "I'm just trying to be the sort of guy you deserve and I have never felt so inept in my whole life. So work with me here, huh?" By the end he has dredged up a little smile and tries to catch her eyes. As for the other situation? He'll just shrug. He doesn't really get it either.
Mishkia flashes a contrite look up at Matrin's muttering and and hair-raking, still confused at just what she said in the first place, but by the times she feels his lips on her forehead and his arms are around her, his words have given her a clue. She tips her head to peer up at him, meeting his eyes quizzically, "Trying to be?" She actually tsks, "Stop worrying what sort I deserve and just be yourself? You're just fine the way I found you." Because she totally found him on her doorstep, right? So saying, her eyes then wander a little higher and the somber shade in them shifts to something brighter. She tries not to, but she fails, a barely choked-back laugh shakes her frame that she's pretty sure he's going to feel with his arms around her. This just sets her off and she's gasping out an explanation as best she can, "You should… see… your hair!" And then she's totally losing it with more laughter and head-shaking helplessly adds, "I must frustrate you so! Just promise me you won't start pulling it out okay?" Keziah and her new clan? Completely forgotten for the time being.
"Trying," Matrin murmurs in return. "Because when you found me, you weren't quite as tempting as you are now. If only because I didn't know you at all." His grin is faint and a little sheepish. That deepens to an actual hint of color rising into his cheeks as she explains her laughter. "Oh, nice," he gripes with a feigned scowl, releasing her to try and arrange his hair back to something resembling its usual neatness. "I promise not to start pulling it out. And you don't frustrate me… I just wish I didn't feel like you were as nervous about me as you are about the dragons, that's all." It's out before he can really think about the words and he quickly shakes his head. "Nervous isn't the word, I guess. I just want you to be comfortable with me. To feel safe enough to be yourself."
"I actually like your hair that way better," Mishkia says with an impish smile, reaching slim fingers to mess it back up, or well, ruffle it a little bit anyway. It hasn't dawned on him that she was acting more like herself until the subject of dragons came up? But some of what he's said and saying is beginning to percolate through her brain and her eyes widen a hair just for a moment as a pleased expression creeps across her face. She smiles, but all she can say to all that is an emphatic, "I ain't nervous about the dragons." Slipping back into her backwoods grammar for a beat there as her emotions get the better of her. "And I ain't sure what you mean by comfortable with. I ain't sure how'm I supposed to be now I'm at the Weyr. Proper-like ain't comfortable for you?"
"Oh yeah?" Matrin asks with his smirk playing around his lips, even if it never seems to settle. Still, don't be surprised if his hair is less carefully neat next time she sees him, and he lets her do whatever she wants with his hair without comment. He watches her thoughts as they play across her face and in the end he just presses his lips together thoughtfully, then lets go of her long enough to ease his arms between hers and her sides, looping them around her waist in the end. "But you are of me?" Dark brows go up in a challenge, and his lashes droop a little as he replies, "Be however you like, but the girl I asked to come to Xanadu was the one I met in the swamp." It's a gentle reminder, and he shrugs. "I like you however you are. I just don't want you to feel like I am going to… drag you off and sully your honor just because-" he breaks off to chuckle and shakes his head. "Well just because I'd like to, I guess. You look at me like a spooked runner sometimes, that's all."
Mishkia stops messing with Matrin's hair after a moment or two, giving her hair styling results a satisfied little smirk; really she's just finger-combed it into a rakish fall about his ears and forehead, leaving the top looking ruggedly windblown. Letting her hands fall to his shoulders, she considers the question, mulls it over and finally shakes her head. "More like… of me," she finally admits with a candor she's likely squelched since arriving at Xanadu. And though she hasn't explained THAT, his declaration draws a bit of color to her cheeks, she interrupts herself to blurt, "Where'd you get the idea I was worried about that? If Kezi or Gabit-" She just ends that line of thought in a short little growl that leaves naught but silence to his last comment. Ahh was her face that transparent at times? She flashes him an unreadable look. "It's nothing to do with you, really."
Matrin's eyes widen a bit at that growl and he makes a rough sound in the back of his throat. "See, this girl is the one I keep looking for, and feeling like I have scared into hiding." He keeps one hand at her waist but the other sneaks up to slide through her auburn hair. "I got that idea from you. From your great big prey animal eyes when my knee touches yours, and your humor shield the one time I kissed you." Then her final words actually sink in and he tips his head with a quizzical little frown crinkling his brow and his newly rakish hair nearly falling into his eyes. "I think I'd rather it have something to do with me than anyone else, you know." The tease is only evident in his bright eyes.
"It's not you," Mishkia repeats with a little shiver as his fingers move through her hair, but seeks to remain focused on her attempt in reassuring him he didn't scare her into hiding. "It's my… family and their expectations and this big new, strange world I'm out in," she breathes in a rush. She listens to his explanation, draws a thoughtful breath, exhaling it slowly. For a few beats she seems to struggle with both the honesty of that and her own vulnerability, for it is there in her eyes as she continues to meet his. "This too, is new to me," she finally admits with a vague sort of hand gesture in the air between them indicating them both. "There weren't a whole lot of guys I wasn't related to back there in the swamp, you know? I'm tying not to mess it up." Sounding familiar here?
Matrin quiets long enough to let her speak, with watchful eyes and a somber expression though his fingers continue to stroke through her hair. Thoughtfully silent for a beat after she finishes, Matrin wets his lips without speaking at first. When he finally does put those thoughts to words, they are soft and careful. "I didn't think about you being related to nearly everyone at Mire until after the day in the fog." Another little pause and he takes a deep breath. "So a few things. You aren't going to mess anything up with me, so don't worry about that. We can go as slowly as you like, or not go at all, it's up to you. Just so long as you know that and aren't uncomfortable with me, that's all I need." A smile finally touches the corners of his mouth, and he lets his hand settle on her shoulder. "Sounds like we both might be overthinking things."
There's a flicker of a wry smirk on Mishkia's lips at the comment about the fog. Ohhh was she /that/ green about that kiss? Well shoot! Nothing is said but the expression of mild chagrin is readable enough, fleeting though it may be. "Probably so," she agrees to over thinking, allowing an invisible cloak of restraint to fall from her shoulders, the change in her almost palpable as she lift her chin in unspoken resolve, "but if you'd heard the stories they filled me full of before sending me out here…" She simply shakes her head with a laugh, not elaborating on those. "And I'm not uncomfortable with you at all, just… finding my way is all," she finishes, eyes still crinkled with amusement over her isolated family's perception of this place. A shadow passes over the bright sunlit snow just then - a dragon passing overhead - the movement drawing her eyes upward. There's no flinching this time, though her expression sobers a touch. "I think I can give that a try, if you're with me."
Mishkia's chagrin tips Matrin's grin into a crooked line and he chucks her lightly under the chin. "The nervous leading up to the kiss made me wonder, not the kiss itself," he clarifies even though she didn't actually say anything out loud. One dark brow arches and he belatedly remembers the thermos that's still dangling from his other hand, so he goes about capping it while she speaks. "Some time you should share some of those crazy stories. I bet at least a handful are true." His smirk lingers as he glances up at the sky, then back down at her with a firm nod. "Well then, I'll see if I can find someone with a nice, placid dragon we can meet. Together."
Wonderful! And here she thought she'd hidden that nervousness beneath her banter so well, dangit! "So much for sophistication," Mishkia utters in an 'oh well' sort of way accompanied by a shrug and a head toss. Not like she ever had it and is well aware by now that her attempt to wear it was a miserable fail. Though for his previous comment about slowly or not at all, she says, "If I'm not supposed to overthink, then don't you either - I'd rather you just be free to be who you are. If you push too fast I'll bite you or something." White teeth snap demonstratively then she watches him cap that thermos. "Oh sure, and another book I can write, 'Mire Hold's Manual on Weyrlife - From the Other Side'!" She snickers at her own quip and then in a gesture of trust simply nods about the dragon, leaving the arrangement in his hands. "When you have the time, just let me know!"
Apparently whatever lack of sophistication may exist doesn't bother Matrin at all, though her grumble does make him chuckle. "Alright then, no overthinking for either one of us," he agrees, reaching for her hand and starting to walk again. "Though I warn you, I'm not sure a bite is a good threat." He sneaks a wide grin down at her, dark brows up at her snapping teeth. "I think an explanation of Weyr life from an outsider's perspective would be really interesting, actually. There aren't many modern writings of that worst."
"Maybe it's supposed to be encouragement?" Mishkia twinkles up at him, bumping her shoulder against his as they walk. Her fingers curl 'round his hand and she merely shakes her head in amusement about the book. "I'm sure there aren't," she agrees dryly. When and if Mire's is ever written maybe they'll see why! If nothing else it will amuse Weyrfolk on a cold winter night.