THIS LOG TAKES PLACE MOSTLY AT THE TEMPLE OF ALL DOOMS, EXCEPT FOR THIS LOG ONLY IT SHALL HENCEFORTH BE CALLED THE TEMPLE OF ALL ADORABLES THE FOLLOWING GIFS ARE YOUR WARNINGS FOR THE SHEER VOLUME OF FLUFFY AND CUTE IN THE ENORMOUS LOG THAT FOLLOWS.
IF YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO PROCEED, WE WISH YOU LUCK WITH ALL YOUR CHEST CLUTCHES AND PUKING FROM PURE CUTE. MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR.
There are a lot of reasons why the universe hasn't conspired to put K'vir and F'yr together in a place to talk about the thing they've both been suffering months of SASSY LOOKS over. Some of these reasons are K'vir and F'yr themselves. And yet, about a seven after Inasyth's Turnover eve flight which EVERYONE knew Glorioth won BECAUSE HE MADE SURE OF IT, it happens quite accidentally that F'yr is leaving the offices and heading down the administrative hallway toward the other caverns, his messenger bag slung over his slightly rumpled, short-sleeved, button up blue work shirt, at the same moment as the Wingleader's Ready Room is spitting out a familiar figure. There's a slight hiccup in F'yr's stride, but not enough of one to keep him from moving to fall into step alongside the Wingsecond. He doesn't immediately offer a greeting, but that might be because there are still other figures near enough that he'd probably have to be all formal about it, and so he just subtly slows his step enough to let the others get out ahead of them. There's a brief touch of fingers to K'vir's wrist to draw his attention to the change of pace, a silent invitation if he doesn't have somewhere to hurry off to.
—
Even without the particular BRAGGING (rights) of a certain victorious bronze, it’s difficult to silence the rumour mills and the passing of news by word of mouth! It is known, and known well, of what transpired and perhaps aided in stretching out the further delay of necessary talks. K’vir can weather those months of SASS and LOOKS well from their source, even when he doesn’t have much in the way of ESCAPE as he lives with the person in question (it’s been torture, some days! WOE IS HIM)! He’s used to this and so his immediate lack of noticing F’yr being there isn’t purposely done — his mind is merely elsewhere, probably on whatever it was that had Important Knotted Ranks all piled into the Wingleader Ready Room. That and it looks like K’vir hasn’t slept, but not from anything overtly dramatic and definitely from the fact that he is finishing his stint of overnights. Wingsecond does not exempt him from the short straws, unfortunately! The touch to his wrist, even brief, is enough to snap him from his inner thoughts and with a re-focusing blink, he’s adjusted his pace so he can glance sidelong at the source. Yes? Oh. “F’yr.” Hello. It’s muttered, just above ‘hushed’ given the drifting conversations of those moving on ahead. Brows furrow for a moment, then his expression smooths and he smirks — the silent invitation is caught, even if slow to the mark. “I’ve got time.” Does F’yr? That’s his silent query, probably with the expectation that the bronzerider has an idea of ‘where’ or is going to field that to him.
—
WHO EVEN KNOWS. Maybe K'vir was YET ONE MORE WET VICTIM of the waterthrowers that made Inasyth's flight A MEMORABLE ONE. (THANK YOU HOODLUM WEYRLEADER AND SPOUSE 1 OF 2. Villains.) In any case, they're both here now, neither dripping wet even if one of them is short on sleep - a fact that doesn't seem to escape F'yr's quick glance over the older man. A small smile touches the Quasar bronzerider's lips as he returns the look from the Wingsecond. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to go sleep instead?" He suggests, both making a real offer and teasing in the same breath. His eyes scan the hallways and sure, there are choice - offices that are emptying for the day, nooks they could tuck into for a chat, but there's always the possibility of interruption or eavesdroppers with those. After all, K'vir must be something of a favorite for the gossip mill when they can get it. F'yr's lower lip ends up briefly tucked between his teeth as he thinks and then with a nod that's some kind of decision, he turns and gives an exaggerated slow jerk of his head to indicate the nearest door to the main clearing and on and on until they're heading down one of the private paths in the forest. The silence isn't exactly awkward, but it hasn't quite found the full way over to companionable, probably because there's anticipatory tension. It's not a bad kind of tension, really, but even positive tension is still tension.
—
THERE WILL BE NO CONFIRMING OR DENYING of K’vir’s involvement or level of victim in said MEMORABLE FLIGHT (never a dull moment)! There’s another brief, if bare, smirk from K’vir and the smallest of movements as he shakes his head to that real offer and tease. “I’ll be fine,” So that’s a ‘no thanks, but stop tempting me, please’! “Have to reset anyhow, so this’ll work to ensure that, at least.” He’s got enough of his wits and senses that he feels fairly confident to pursue this. At the very least, the anticipatory tension will certainly help fuel various emotions that’ll help keep him on top of his game! He will remain patient while F’yr makes his choice, catching on to that slow exaggeration and nodding his assent. By the time they’re heading out and down private paths, K’vir is much more alert, if a touch on edge. F’yr might not be the only one picking up on that positive-kind of tension! If it’s any comfort, he doesn’t appear overly concerned and certainly hasn’t set upon any flora like before. K’vir is as unhurried in his pace, as he is to broach that silence, but he makes an attempt when a cursory glance to their surroundings guarantees their momentary privacy. “So…” Oh, there’s some of the awkwardness! But it’s more of a personal vein, for K’vir, given his fumbling of WORDS. He pauses, frowns and reconsiders with a thoughtful hum. “Hmm. How’re you holding up?” DETAILS, he asks NOT for! He’s sussing out F’yr’s state of mind, if that — before heaping all the more on the bronzerider’s shoulders. His voice is pitched lower, in a way that one does when hoping to keep conversation between one another. At least the summer provides some backdrop to further mask their (eventual) words?
—
Summer is a beautiful backdrop for many things. It provides plenty of future victims of awkwardness or pent up emotions ready to hand down the winding trail that will eventually lead to F'yr's very private homestead. (Well, if one doesn't count the REGULAR INVASIONS of VARIOUS ALL RELATED OFFSPRING, none of whom actually belong to F'yr in any blood way.) When K'vir elects to make the attempt, the younger bronzerider is ready to do his part. A sidelong glance is stolen, a ghost of a smile on his lips for the older man. "I'm doing alright." Spoiler alert: he's almost always doing alright, except when something truly extraordinary happens. "Glorioth's almost been going easy on me this past seven, since he's so occupied with making sure everyone understands there will be truly unsurpassed eggs on the hatching sands just as soon as Inasyth can be encouraged to get them along. I'm not sure he grasps it's something that can't be hurried, but at least Inasyth's been wrestling with him long enough to know how to defend herself, and how to distract him better than most." If not perfectly." There's a beat before he adds, expression going deadpan but his tone full of dry humor in contrast as he says, "There's the usual office battlegrounds to contend with, of course." Surely he's heard the various (entertaining) stories. How does anyone stay sane? What keeps Xanadu functioning aside from sleepless dedication, sass and spunk? Who can say, but F'yr is some cog in that very weird machine helping to keep things going. "How are you holding up? If she's been giving me the looks, I can only imagine what she's been doing to you." For that, he lets a smile crack and he even moves to bump K'vir's shoulder in a very familiar sort of way that F'yr definitely learned from someone they both know, respect and adore in their own ways.
—
K’vir will accept that reply for what it is; not from disappointment and far from it! There’s understanding there, as he often employs similar when asked. He takes a quick sidelong look to F’yr as they progress along, noting that ghost of a smile perhaps. It doesn’t linger, that gaze and K’vir seems more comfortable to look ahead and at nothing in particular. “Funny how that goes, huh? How suddenly they go easy on us.” He can only imagine how that must feel for F’yr given Glorioth’s uh… personality. K’vir has only experienced it twice with Zekath, for all that the bronze TRIES SO DAMN MUCH — and neither clutches are ones he talks about. EVER. “Inasyth must understand him well enough.” Case in point? Glorioth won. K’vir says as much with a lighthearted grimace. “Can’t say I don’t envy you - because I don’t - when those eggs DO arrive.” K’vir’s grimace only deepens for the deadpan tone and delivery to the mention of office battlegrounds and maybe a LONG SUFFERING sigh to follow it. Was that even a slight roll of his eyes? MAYBE — and we can safely bet as to what WHO IS BEHIND THAT. “Why am I not surprised?” he remarks dryly, grimace now turned smirk before that fades away a little at the edges. “Aside from just pulling a recent leg of overnights? Could be worse.” K’vir’s humor returns, both in a short chuckle and return of that bump of shoulders — yes, quite familiar, but not unwelcome. “Oh, you know… probably not far off from what she’s been inflicting on you — maybe a little more intensely?” Their home is, after all, more private than an OFFICE (not that that would stop her, would it?). “I’m used to it.” But even HE has limits!
—
"He doesn't after greenflights," F'yr observes with a much put-upon sigh. But can he really be blamed? So many greenflights. It's remarkable that he managed to survive the last six months of being dragged into the guest weyr every few days or once a seven if he was lucky that week. Not even just at Xanadu, but elsewhere, too! He's definitely entitled to that sigh even if some other men might envy his frequency of mind-blowing dragon-lust fuelled sex. F'yr? Kind of over it, at least outside of the moment. "But I'm glad he's doing it now, whatever the reason. It seems like I'll be able to use the hatching sands as a good distraction for him for a few sevens." Then the eggs will actually exist on the hatching sands and F'yr will have to pay a good deal more attention to his overzealous lifemate's goings on. "You know someone a long time and I guess you're bound to understand them. He and Ina have gotten on since they were shelled, really. They haven't always understood one another, but she does better than many with him." There's a moment where F'yr stares at nothing, and he doesn't, in this moment ask about Zekath, but rather there's an abrupt subject jump. "I wasn't… that is, I was telling you the truth when I said I was probably going to kiss you eventually, K'vir." F'yr pauses on the path, turning to look at the older man, one hand reaching out to still him if he's inclined to continue. "Because I like you. Because I respect you. Because I'm attracted to you. ''Not'' because she wants to compare notes." There's a flash of a wider, amused smile for that before his expression shifts back to an open but serious state as he looks at the other man. "I don't know you as well as I'd like, and I'd like to get to know you, but… we don't have to kiss again, unless, you know, we'd like to. She can thump as many stacks of papers down on my desk as she wants and it won't make a bit of difference to whatever we do or don't want to be doing." And he means all of that. And it was a little abruptly very deep. He doesn't take it back, but he does look briefly abashed and mutters, "I was going to say that over beers back at my place." It probably would've been better then. "We could still have the beers?"
—
DEFINITELY no envy for that either, from this bronzerider! K’vir would probably not cope well with that many flights — again, his tolerance only runs so deep and he’s come LEAPS and BOUNDS from what he was! “Yeah, you’ll probably catch a break. Don’t know of many bronzes who’ll dare chase when they’ve got a gold already brooding their clutch.” NEVER SAY NEVER! K’vir will apologize later, F’yr, if Glorioth proves them all wrong. But that isn’t the topic of the day for long and he’ll nod to the rest shared between them, right until F’yr just GOES IN FOR THE KILL! It throws the older bronzerider off for a few beats, but he doesn’t entirely clam up (it has the opposite… for Kyzen levels of speech anyhow) and shut F’yr out, so that they spend the rest of their walk in charged silence. There’s definitely a charge and a change in the vibe between them; tension again but not wholly negative. It doesn’t see K’vir cutting this short by turning back. A younger version of him would’ve but this older K’vir is just a teeny bit more mature and comfortable in his own skin (flaws and all). “Didn’t think you were lying. Just… is odd. Not used to being, hmm.” K’vir hesitates there, brows furrowed as his mouth draws tight. How to phrase it? Bluntly awkward, of course! “Immediately liked.” In fact… does he look a little flushed? OH LAWRD, he blushing!? YOU SEE NOTHING. “I’d never known D’lei much before he joined us. It — surprises me that you feel all that but don’t know me.” But? K’vir takes another moment to slow his thoughts down enough to speak, again. Tension begins to ebb, which each ponderous word, low spoken. There’s a hint of a smirk though, of AMUSEMENT, so that’s a good sign, right? “She means well by that, you know.” As much as it might push BUTTONS! He sighs next, “Please.” Yes, to the beers. Sorry that that means crashing your pad, F’yr! It takes K’vir right until they’re nearing their destination to get a KEY POINT out, if the younger bronzerider yields that much patience under such lengthy (awkward) pauses. “I’m… not against the idea.” Oh-HO, DO read into that! See that darkening flush? That adorable manly way he’s just not going to look at F’yr right that second. “This uncertainty comes from worries. Worries I always have, because… to quote someone we both know,” And look, he finds some humor! Along with a smirk. “I’m a “stupid bronzerider” — and I am,” K’vir holds up a hand, in case F’yr protests. Nuh-huh, let him finish! “I tend to fuck things up. Not good with the whole… feelings and shit or expressing them always right. Long story.” Hence the beers, but the look he FINALLY gives F’yr broaches a different question: how much does he want to know? How little? Does it matter!?
—
One of the very nice things about dealing with F'yr is that, often, when there's a sense that there's more to be said, he'll leave the time, the space, the whatever is needed to allow it to come out in its own time. This is one of those times. He hears it all, he surely can't miss that change in the vibe, the kinetic give and take between the two men that doesn't stop just with them. Thus, it's some time after K'vir has actually spoken that F'yr gets all his words sorted and ordered in order to actually make a reply. He pauses just as they're coming into sight of where the trees will break and the wide, wide clearing will open up. There's a glimpse of the building up ahead - the one with the three story tower - YES, TOWER, SHUP - but it's still a ways off when F'yr pauses, physically, once more, stopping them.
"K'vir," he addresses the older man, eyes seeking his, but not needing to meet his gaze to express this. "You've always dealt with me more than fairly. You've treated me with respect even when I hadn't earned it yet." Hopefully he has by now. "You took the time to teach me and speak with me and didn't scorn me for any of the many things that I didn't know and probably should have, to have that white knot. You didn't even punch me for wanting to be close with her." That her they both know and care for. "There's really nothing instant about liking you, even though I don't know you well. I wanted to like you, because of her, but I like you for you. For who I've seen you be with me." How's that for some unvarnished truth.
"Maybe that helps you see this— me, for what it is, for who I am and how I am and why I'm open to things. Things I'm not going to pursue until I know you better." If SOMEONE they know is a little less than traditional than other riders about the timeline of liaisons finding more physical expression, then really, maybe there's someone else with their own sense of timing here. Maybe he learned that from her. Maybe it just resonates with him. "But I do want the chance. To know you better, and probably to kiss you again sometime." The sense, though, is that that time is not yet, or certainly not today.
With that, F'yr will turn and lead the way into the massive clearing. If K'vir ever came to the home of the kooky old WoodCrafter who owned this place before F'yr and is now happily retired away from Xanadu, he'd see that the clearing is larger now than it was. There's a lot to see. A stream runs along one outer edge with a small (man-made) waterfall to its credit where a small stone firepit and chaise longues are settled. Surely they've walked far enough that just through the trees on the other side of the clearing there will be a view to the cliffs of the beach. There's an enormous awning that's been erected on one side of the meadow to provide shelter for the wallow of straw there and the various trophies of Glorioth's gorier victories. There's a little bridge over the stream that apparently leads to literally nowhere. That's fine.
The main feature of the clearing important to humans is the cottage. It's charming… and epic. It looks traditional except for the three-story wooden turret on ones side, with two stories of balconies and wide windows in many places.. F'yr really lucked out with this place, that's for sure. The bronzerider, whose dragon is asleep under the awning, thank Faranth, leads his companion through the clearing and toward the house, entering through the bottom-most turret room that seems to serve as something of a mudroom, a place for dragon-stuff-storage and a good spot to remove boots or bags or whatever else needs a hook to be hung on before mounting a few steps to go into the squarer part of the homestead where there's a fairly small open floorplan that includes a kitchen and living space with fireplace and homey, worn-in (thank you, stores!) furniture that doesn't quite match the space or each other, but will do for now.
"Make yourself comfortable," F'yr invites, even if there's a trace of nerves in that offer as he moves to where there's a cold box. It's only after he's deposited a bottle into K'vir's hands and got one of his own, taking up a seat catty-corner to the older man where they can talk, but still not be at a great distance that he comments on any of the rest. "Tell me what you want to tell me about your worries? Or anything else?" See this, K'vir? This is F'yr writing him a blank check, opening a door that probably won't go slamming shut anytime soon to tell him whatever he thinks is important, whatever it is he wants to share, and not anything he doesn't (at least not yet). He's here, he's listening. He's even sliding his foot so that unless the other bronzerider moves his foot away, there will be socked contact, subtle, but there.
—
Sorry, NOT SORRY, but K’vir’s going to stare at that TOWER for a moment! So it’s a wonder he doesn’t just stumble into F’yr when he stops their forward progress once more. His focus will turn back to F’yr once he’s addressed by name and it will not budge much, even if his gaze won’t keep from wandering. He listens, closely to what the younger bronzerider is saying, expression tight and unreadable; his discomfort is not entirely from the nature of the conversation but more because it takes him TIME to absorb it. “Hmm, well…” he interjects lightly about not wanting to punch him. IT’S A JOKE, F’YR! See that smol hint of a smirk? No interruptions follow that, though he will be caught focusing more and more on him with a look that gradually thaws. Does this help? It must, because again, K’vir doesn’t sever this conversation abruptly here and now and storm off. He will follow F’yr, further in and forwards, quiet and deeply thoughtful. It won’t keep him from admiring the structure before them or the little stream; he never knew the previous occupant but maybe there’s some distant piece of some old, mostly forgotten, gossip.
K’vir will pause in that mud-room like space to remove his boots; this season means there is little else to shuck off for further delay. He is still observing with more open curiosity though, for the interior rooms now and perhaps the craftsmanship of the place. “… and people would crack jokes about the weyr I have.” You know, because of the SLIDE. He’s peering sidelong, dryly amused, at F’yr. How’d the newly made bronzerider SCORE THIS? But they’re not here to discuss those particularities. Perhaps he picks up on the trace of those nerves or it’s some of his own that seem him taking a seat almost before F’yr is finished his invitation; it could be he just doesn’t desire to trespass any further on the younger man’s personal space. Later, perhaps and another time! He takes the bottle in hand, muttering a quick, “Thanks.” It isn’t until that touch of a socked foot that K’vir is jarred back to the present and, surprisingly (or not), he doesn’t pull away from the contact. There’s a subtle shift, just enough to hint that it’s been received positively. Silence, again, only awkward from the anticipation of what might be said, once K’vir decides on which thread to resume. “A younger me would’ve never given you a chance,” he admits, finally, with his gaze settling on F’yr before moving off. Not from lack of respect but more because it’s necessary for him. “Almost didn’t with D’lei and I did punch him,” Then proceeded to jump him right after but LET’S NOT MENTION THAT. “When Risali confessed what’d happened — whole shift from ‘just friends’ and… not. Didn’t know him much, didn’t care to. I was furious and hurt and blinded by it…” His shoulders lift in a helpless shrug, his expression almost bemused. “Almost fucked it up good, then and there, but D’lei… bastard that he is… has a way with words. He got me to see the bigger picture, as he put it, before I just tore everything apart. But that’s how I was,” And not the man he is now, not entirely, but he feels that F’yr needs to know this. A worry of relapse, perhaps?
“Almost lost Risali too. Our relationship has always been… unique? I guess? You should’ve seen us when we first met…” K’vir chuckles at this, mouth curving into a half-grimace, half-smirk but there’s a fondness there for old memories and something deeper for what the bond must now be. He almost adds more, but he lifts his drink instead and CRUELLY teases in challenge over the rim of it just before knocking some of it back. “Ask her about it sometime.” K’VIR, YOU MONSTER! In takes a slow breath, exhaling heavily as he shifts in his seat and takes his time again in approaching whatever else is forefront on his mind. He has a terrible habit of going off on tangents when he DOES get to talking — this may have happened now, as he’s fumbling to regroup. What was he getting at here? “You’re different.” he mutters quietly and it’s a compliment, not a negative thing. “I think that’s why I don’t feel as threatened or uneasy? But helping you like I did, well — you gave me no reason not to. Not sure if that makes me as good a guy as you think, F’yr.” His brows furrow a moment, features taking another set of heartbeats to smooth once more. THIS IS HARD, OKAY? Stupid FEELINGS! Maybe he’s regretting not going the punching, physical route? “Definitely not used to this… approach. Risali, D’lei — they drew people in.” K’vir makes a low dismissive sound that isn’t quite a grunt or a sigh, followed by a chase of that beer. Much is left unsaid there, maybe on purpose because he feels or finds no value in wallowing in old self-pity. “So,” he drawls, after another stretch. “I’m not so worried about you. If I’d doubts on your character, we’d not be here right now — but more importantly, I trust her.” No need for names, for the obvious source. “I don’t… trust myself. Can’t be helped?” K’vir admits after some consideration and a grim smirk. “That’s why I wasn’t gonna let a gold flight dictate what happened. Needed time. Needed…” He gestures between them. “This. Clear headed.” Well, IGNORE THE BEERS, but at least they’re not suffering from muddled heads of flight loss.
—
Listen, listen, listen. … OKAY, yes, it's a tower, but in point of fact, the whole building is cozily small. The squared off portion only holds the main rooms on the ground level, a hallway above with some storage and then there's just the 2 bedrooms in the tower itself above that mudroom (there was a tiny spiral stair so a person could go straight up, of course). So it qualifies as unusual in structure and is very well maintained, but it's not like it's a LOW KEY MANSE, LIKE SOME PEOPLES' UNSPOKEN OF HOMESTEAD/WEYRS and there's no slide. There isn't even a fireman's pole (yet). Roll your tongue back up, K'vir. SOME PEOPLE JUST KNOW THE RIGHT PEOPLE AND HAPPEN TO HAVE HAD A HIGHLY PITIABLE SITUATION TOSSED AT THEM AND THE STARS ALIGN, HOKAY?! Wanna trade him all that? HUH?! F'yr's eyes briefly go to the other bronzerider at his comment in the mud room, with an enigmatic smile and a near-silent laugh. BUT THAT'S ALL, for now.
The younger man doesn't move his foot while K'vir speaks and doesn't seem to be bothered by the Wingsecond's lack of eye contact. He, however, seems to have dedicated all of his observational skills to listening in this moment, with his ears, with his eyes, learning the mannerisms and the tones along with the words. Fortunately, there's his beer to sip on as he listens which helps break up that well-meant scrutiny enough to not make it necessarily entirely overwhelming. He doesn't speak until the older man seems to have exhausted everything he wants to say and share in this first push and when he does, it's in a lot of simple statements. Starting with, "I didn't know D'lei well, before. I was mostly working with Rhodelia and Risali when he was still in the office." It's important that it's clear that most of F'yr's impressions of the former Weyrleader who was so much more than just that to Risali and K'vir are secondhand. "I was so new here, then." His brow briefly furrows and then he shakes his head. D'lei, himself, is a topic for another day.
There's a silence after that and a look on F'yr's face that shows just how hard he's trying to wrangle a variety of muddied thoughts into some semblance of helpful order. It's not working. Give him a moment. Two. Three. "I'm grateful-" Is that the right word? FEELINGS ARE HARD, OKAY? THEY BOTH KNOW THIS. "-to understand your concerns, your past and who you were, how you handled things then." But? "Really." But? "I'm most interested in you, now. I-" Yep, he's going to say it again, and this time with a helpless little laugh, "-like what I know of you. I trust in the things we've shared so far. It's… all complex. Complicated." It was bound to be though, wasn't it? "But that's not bad… is it? I… don't think I could stomach threatening what you and she have." In point of fact, the very idea makes him look briefly stricken as if it's only just occurred to him that that could be some kind of possible outcome.
"I can't really think of what you might do or say, given what I've seen and known of you, from you, that would be something that could tear things apart." He stares briefly at the ceiling as if there might be an answer there. "But then," and here's a sad little laugh, "I don't really have any clue what I'm doing with anything. Just following instincts. Appreciating the person I'm with when I'm with them." That may get complicated since it sounds like Risali and K'vir aren't the only two names in F'yr's hat of appreciation.
—
Thank FARANTH for that beer, right? And not even for the escape of a buzz or drunkenness, but merely for a thing TO DO in those pauses and hiccups of silence. That step of importance that F’yr takes in regards to D’lei isn’t lost on K’vir at all, but he addresses it only with a nod and a fleeting look of appreciation beneath the heavy frown he’s sporting. ANOTHER THING not to have to worry about? Those silences, whether they be his or F’yr’s, K’vir’s not going to lay pressure when it sometimes takes him a handful of seconds to string less words together! IT IS KNOWN. “Yeah, complicated just about covers anything.” K’vir mutters in brief interjection before words are LOST among the others sinking in. Again! The cause of that shutting up (and not down, thankfully)? F’yr LIKES him for him? It’s like the concept is familiar but he’s left holding a puzzle piece that doesn’t QUITE FIT because it wasn’t the expected outcome (and omg he has to figure that out NOW!?). YOU’VE CONFUSED THE POOR BRUTE BOI, F’yr! He doesn’t say anything to counter that or argue —he’s too busy blushing up a storm OH LOOK BEER—. The younger bronzerider looking stricken snaps K’vir out of his head for a bit, though it takes a beat or two for him to go back and realize why — oh. “What? No. It’s not bad and… don’t think you have to worry on that. I mean it.” About potentially jeopardizing what’s at play here and that isn’t bluffing coming from him; K’vir is confident for once, in that, at least. “You’ve not been around me long enough,” K’vir points out, gently, though he quirks another grim-looking smirk. He doesn’t continue, as that sad little laugh and all that follows catches his attention. Intrigued, he will give F’yr a patient (expectant) look as though figuring the bronzerider was readying to explain.
—
It's fiiiiiiiine. Two can blush adorably in this space that is intimate to F'yr, for all the distance between all but their socked feet. The bronzerider doesn't invite people here, not really. Even people who come are invited at long intervals. No one can call themselves a routine guest. So everything said in this space comes with a certain vulnerability, and the topic is enough to make him blush, if not stop his tongue.
"Be that as it may," F'yr gives credit to their lack of familiarity as he looks up from the beer to K'vir, a slight smile touching his face. "My childhood included a number of terrible moments done hurtfully by one person to another, and family stayed family anyway. This… family that I'm finding my way to-" that prompts a hard swallow because it can't help but be meaningful and F'yr means, surely, much more than just Risali and K'vir and their family, although surely F'yr counts there somehow given his gifted moniker of 'Uncle' carried over from some of the youngest to the older as the weyrling left his training behind and became a rider with time on his hands enough to babysit and otherwise entertain outside of the office from time to time.
"This family," he starts again after a slow breath, "I don't think it's likely to be torn apart as easily as all that. A punch, a shouting match, a brawl, a near drowning in the sea…" He rattles off some ideas there for K'vir, you're welcome, "I think even now the will to see what we'll see would survive that. At some point, maybe we'll see whatever there's to see and things will change, be decided somehow." But he's not really worried about that, not judging by his 'come what may' shrug. "I'll let you worry about it, if you like." He's not that kind of worrier; he has daily worries more pressing (HIS NAME IS GLORIOTH. HAVE YOU MET HIM?).
But then there's what he really should be explaining for that expected look, and he won't disappoint. "The truth is, if she hasn't gotten around to telling you, is that I came from a very narrow world. A world where anything like this," and his free hand indicates a gesture between the two of them, "wouldn't have been thinkable let alone explorable. Being in the Weyr has opened my world to kinds of happiness I'd never imagined, but I have no experience to guide me. Mine, or others'. Risa told me once what a terrible idea it would be to kiss everyone that I enjoyed because I… genuinely enjoy a number of people," AN EMBARRASSING NUMBER OF PEOPLE, see how that blush got a lot worse?
"And I don't understand how to define things the way most people do. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about labels. So, your saying when things moved from 'just friends' with D'lei and Risa to more…" He gives an apologetic and slightly confused look but shakes his head. "I can guess now, from other stories, but I just see… I just see a person I like… and act accordingly. Until there's a way of acting, or being that doesn't seem to fit?" Does that make any sense? He sounds unsure. "So… that's me." Beat. "Probably more likely to cause problems than you, I'd imagine." Good thing he has beer to drink now, because those are very large gulps. At least he seems to be approaching these things candidly?
—
Speaking of those socked feet, despite the quiet extending between them, K’vir is never really truly still (not with so much FEELZ and thoughts racing about) and the betrayal of that will be his very own foot, very lightly shifting against F’yr’s. Completely unnoticed but nothing close to as visible fidgeting SOME of his blood relatives can achieve. He will nurse a little more of that beer as the younger bronzerider mentions his previous family (and something darker flickers into his eyes but he doesn’t lend it a voice) and then finding his new one among the Weyr. That draws a small smile from him, likely as pleased as F’yr may be on the surface, to have been so fortunate to find what he did. K’vir’s no fool, he’s seen how the children (AND PROBABLY HIS OWN) have picked up that gifted moniker and let it be known that never has the older bronzerider corrected them. He huffs a little, grimly amused by the rattling off of ideas but again, he does not counter or challenge though he doesn’t seem to fully agree — not here and now, at least. Give him a few days! “That’s generally what I’m good at,” he muses, on his flaw for worrying pointlessly but he’s better at it — never GOOD and no miraculous fix but he tries now, at least.
WHOO, all that blushing! F’yr blushes worse and K’vir just darkens in sympathy understanding to what was discussed. He seems ready to say something, thinks better of it, makes some awkward throaty sound and coughs. Nope, not quite there yet! “Don’t think there’s anything wrong in that but I see Risa’s point too—“ HURRYING ALONG, because he doesn’t want to linger much on that. “Shaking that narrow look is hard. I’d similar views and I was weyrborn but, well…” He exhales, much chagrined. “My family is not a good example of ‘healthy’ and my childhood—“ A hand lifts to gesture vague and dismissive. F’yr already knows how a good chunk of the KEY TURNS of his life were spent. He is as equally as confused as F’yr on the last issue, his gaze settling thoughtfully on the younger bronzerider as he attempts to mull it over… and fails. Almost apologetically, he sighs. Forgive him? It will take awhile. Despite that (and after finishing his beer), he’ll add softly. “We’ll just have to learn how — our views… hmm.” No, not quite right! K’vir licks his lips, doubles down and tries again. “We’ll just have to learn about each other, together then, won’t we?”
—
The second try is well rewarded by the most adorable shy grin and blush combo AS YET TO BE SEEN ON THESE PREMISES. "That sounds… really good. Perfect, actually." WELL DONE, K'vir; and here you were worried about being the problem. There are certainly other things to be addressed and said, but all F'yr says now is, "Think we could maybe do more of that now?" Beat, "But with you over here?" There's a little tilt of his head to indicate the open spot next to him on the couch.
—
HOW MUCH ADORBS CAN BE CONTAINED IN ONE SPACE? Plenty, it seems! K’vir doesn’t grin like a fool or do much beyond a small (IT’S SHY) smile. Okay, this is good! This is… going much better than he’d envisioned! Until the invitation. That has him tensing and freezing up, visibly, with indecision — younger, more hot tempered, him would’ve probably booked it out of there (or jumped willingly). Older and not much wiser, K’vir will glance between that empty spot and F’yr and consider it for some painfully awkward span of time. Just when the invite might be rescinded, does he FINALLY make his move. Slowly, like much of his mannerisms, he’ll stand and resettle down beside F’yr. Not with the expected awkward ‘must keep x-amount of feet apart’, but more of a comfortable distance — friendly, welcoming but without encroaching on space. He sits there, beer held loosely between his hands, glancing sidelong to F’yr with a sort of ‘what’s next’ expectation.
—
One would presume that at some point K'vir has met a certain smol goldrider, yes? He'll doubtless recognize that once he's settled, there's a scooting that occurs which is so much Risa that it might be funny. This is how much impact K'vir's weyrmate has had on her INNOCENT, IMPRESSIONABLE assistant. F'yr doesn't get ALL UP IN K'vir's personal space, but he does adjust himself so that one of his legs is against the older man's and he reaches to claim one of those hands holding the beer so he can draw it and turn it palm up to settle on top of F'yr's thigh. This last is selfish, really, it's selfish so F'yr can rather invite those potentially fidgety fingers into an idle sort of game of lead and follow or just relax and enjoy movements, little caresses, brief interlacing followed by freedom one or two or all fingers at a time. It's just something to do with a hand each, while they talk. Like the beer as something to do. Of course, that being the case, F'yr should be talking. Right? He seems to remember this at some point in getting himself physically contented by making these small but meaningful gestures of connection.
So finally, the words do come. "I don't actually think I've had too much trouble shaking off the narrow look, but then it's been a trial by fire since the start, that way. Let it all go and embrace the Weyr as it is, for everything it is, or why did I bother to come at all. I guess what I'm having a harder time is wrapping my brain around what's customary in the Weyr, because it seems like there's a lot of latitude to what a person can and can't do here, so then you have to come up with your own sort of things to go by. Rules isn't really the right word. Guidelines, I guess. That's tricky. It's like trying to figure yourself out in time to keep yourself and anyone else you come into contact with from harm." Tricky indeed. It's probably (unfairly) out of the blue that F'yr turns his head to look at K'vir rather than their hands, to ask, "What's one thing you worry about?"
—
It really is funny! K’vir would’ve laughed (and may if it happens again), if he wasn’t so wound up in the moment and focused on other things; namely, his surprise that he doesn’t find F’yr’s closer presence unappealing. Now that this is happening WITHOUT dragon intervention! He allows the press of their legs, side by side, but the claiming of his hand will be disputed — briefly. Not by him yanking back from the gesture but more that it’s fumbled and clunky, as K’vir can’t quite make up his mind. Follow through? Lace fingers? Hold hands? Rest them together!? By the time he even registers a choice, it’s made for him and… once again, he finds it agreeable. So his hand rests on F’yr’s thigh and K’vir holds no sharp opinion on that bit of selfishness on his part. Eventually, he relaxes enough that by the time the idle game between them begins, the movements are more natural and not as picked over by overthinking. K’vir makes only another sound of agreement to F’yr’s words of trial by fire and adapting to ‘customs’. “Guidelines is as close as you’ll get to it, I think.” he agrees, after a thoughtful spell and much working of his jaw (and fidget-touch-caress of their hands). “Can’t be helped, sometimes.” Harm, that is and there’s something akin to guilt that crosses his features and gone by the time he blinks and frowns to the question pressed to him. “Well,” he begins, only to chuckle dryly. “Gonna have to be more specific, F’yr. I worry about a lot. Are you asking again about this? Us? My relationships? Family? My position as Wingsecond?” WHERE DOES HE START, F’YR!?
—
Honestly, F'yr doesn't seem to mind the fumbling. He stays with his partner, goes at K'vir's pace to get there. That's how F'yr works as a rule. Making the decision to do what he selfishly wishes to is easy. No one can argue that this is the kind of thing that Risali might be caught doing, so it's probably an unfair advantage that F'yr has in making the guess that K'vir wouldn't object, even though it's F'yr sitting here and not a smol goldrider, but he hasn't gotten punched yet, so… Really, he's not even trying to push his luck as he said in the woods, but not wanting to kiss K'vir again in the immediate doesn't mean that he doesn't want to cultivate a closer connection than men who sit across a table and talk. "No," F'yr does sigh just a little. "It can't be helped sometimes." There, he'll squeeze K'vir's hand briefly before going back to the game.
There's a smile at the older man's chuckle and F'yr cants his head slightly, away from K'vir, the better to look at him. "Well, I mean… any. All. What do you want to share with me?" The smile ticks a little wider. "If you'd rather not start with worries, we could start with… likes? Hopes? Dreams?" The words are getting progressively colored with purposefully grand exaggerations as he flashes a grin at K'vir. "Or, you know, you could just tell me whatever's on your mind." There's a breath of silence in which F'yr diminishes the look of humor to offer more seriously, "It seemed like worries were a good place to start because… burdens shared are sometimes less burdensome? If they're about this, us, whatever… maybe I can even help?" He does like to help, this bronzerider. Surely, K'vir has noticed that much.
—
And for all that patience F’yr abides by, he reaps the reward of having K’vir relax fully now given the time to do so. No, he is no smol goldrider but he earns this much all the same. He will squeeze his hand in turn, but is otherwise content to keep to their little idle game. As F’yr cants his head slightly away, K’vir will take that as a cue to look properly aside to the younger man. For the first time, his smirk is a little less grim and tight, a touch more genuine. Then he’s being given OPTIONS, all the options and now he can’t help but laugh quietly. “You might regret offering any of those! And how am I to choose? Might pick something that’d bore you to tears, that’s irrelevant, or a sensitive topic—” he begins to ramble, catching himself with a low exhale. See? He shrugs next and his gaze drifts to look ahead, but with the look of someone pursuing their thoughts. Not so far gone, however, not to take a little humorous jab at the bronzerider. “Sure you’re not older than you claim? You act it, spouting stuff like that.” Yet he seems to take the ‘advice’ to mind, some little footnote to tuck away for later. In the end, K’vir does choose to veer away from worries for now, at least direct ones or heavier, more pressing. “… there was once where my worries were little things. Childish because that’s what I was — a Weyrleader’s son, who wanted for nothing and yet had worries. Silly things, that gradually became less silly as my naivety of the world wore off. I could tell you of those and some stories bound to them. Not all of them are happy ones,” His shoulders lift in a shallow shrug. That shouldn’t be surprising? “As for my hopes and dreams? I’d probably disappoint there. If you asked me when I was barely of age to Stand, what I’d thought and dreamed I’d be, it wouldn’t be what I am — but I am happy, very lucky and fortunate, to have what I have.” In K’vir’s mind, there is not much to touch upon there that isn’t already immediately obvious.
—
"Doubt it," F'yr dares. "If I'm bored, I'll fall asleep, probably on your shoulder and you'll follow right after because you've been awake too long anyway," he goes on unapologetic humor in his expression. "If it's irrelevant to me, it's not to you or you wouldn't have picked it, and if you pick something sensitive… well, we learn something new about each other a lot sooner than we expected to. What's so bad about any of that? I could do with a nap." He flashes his teasing smile though and leans a little into K'vir's shoulder for the familiar bump and partial withdrawal, perhaps staying a little closer than they were moments before. But closeness is nice, isn't it? It seems nice to F'yr who's slouching a little more, smiling to himself as he looks down at their hands. "The thing is, when you're the youngest of twelve and have more aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews than can be counted on both hands and feet all living under the same enormous roof and working the same barns and fields and sharing meals on trestle tables, you tend to get given a lot of advice. Not all of it ended up still practical here, of course, but it does let me sound like I know what I'm doing and if there's one thing Glori's taught me in our turns together so far, it's that… acting like you know is sometimes the only way to figure out what you know or what you don't and what you have to figure out quick." He tilts his head to give K'vir a smile so warm and soft that it makes F'yr's eyes crinkle a little at the edges. "Besides, I can't have you going and thinking I'm too young for you or something." That's said gravely. Very gravely. "Pick a story and tell me. Something important to you." NO, SORRY, RAMBLY K'VIR, HE WANTS TO LISTEN TO YOU RAMBLE. YOU ARE ON YO' OWN. MAY THE ODDS BE FOREVER IN YOUR FAVOR.
—
“I think you underestimate my ability to stay awake,” K’vir’s laughing throughout that counter to F’yr’s quip and joke, along with a LOOK that brokers a promise that the younger bronzerider will find out he MEANS IT. Insomnia is his “trick” here! It plagues him, from time to time (again, those anxieties and worries!) — and sometimes he has no choice but to admit the struggle. He huffs again but the shoulder bump is returned, if not with a slight jab of elbow to ribs as a follow up. Yes, the closeness is nice and K’vir is beginning to warm considerably to it — a creature of comfort, in the end, is he! “That is… I don’t think I’ll ever complain about the size of my own family. I can see what you mean, though.” Even if he’s struggling to comprehend HOW to live under one roof with so many and not have it end in disaster. Granted, K’vir can’t even get his siblings and cousins together without it almost turning into a bloodbath, so his perception is a teeny bit skewed! “You figured all that out with Glorioth?” he prompts, mostly from intrigue and… maybe he’s just a stitched impressed (no pun intended this time)! There’s another bout of laughter, at the mention of age but he doesn’t seem too troubled by it. “Mhm.” No further comment. FINE, he wants a rambly STORY? HAVE ONE, F’yr! Leaning back into the couch, he’ll sigh heavily as he gathers his thoughts and begins in the same gentle, ponderous way he’s adopted over the more recent Turns. “I was actually a bit of a tough kid. Not rebellious or spoiled, just that… trouble found me. Don’t remember all of it, but there’s jokes in Fort that I was probably the first toddler to require a harness and leash because it was that bad. I dunno what the hang up was — kids are curious,” He’d know, he has a HORDE brood of his own! “But I guess I had too much of it. I was raised primarily by my aunt and uncle on my mom’s side — non rider family. My father, being who he is and my mother also a rider, couldn’t. Still had my time with them, though.”
“It was such a running joke too, that my first runner was named Calamity, or Cal for short.” K’vir smirks, chuckling briefly. “I didn’t get it entirely then, but since everyone laughed about it, I went with it. And it was funny… until it wasn’t. Started getting older, bolder… a little too reckless. Caused an incident by the forges that ended in some nasty damages. It was so bad, I hid under a bed to avoid my father’s wrath and it took my mother and Kiena - that’s my aunt and Ru’ien’s mother - standing up to him to get him to back off. That… might’ve been when I first felt guilt — or maybe it was remorse? Wasn’t wholly my fault, but it fractured the tentative rebuild of a relationship between my father and his only sister. I mean,” He pauses there to make a gesture and a bit of a pained expression, like it should be obvious who was to blame. “There’s a lot more to that but I couldn’t help but carry it in my head for a long time that I was the catalyst to the final blow, you know?” K’vir pauses then, brows furrowed heavily as he sifts through fragments of old, memories long untouched.
“Think that’s what started dividing me from my father, too. I’d held him in some form of childish awe and fear, though I had no desire to be his copy or follow in his steps.” There’s a distinct look that crosses his face then, something between disgust and disdain. NO THANK YOU! “I loved my aunt too and he drove her away. When events in Fort lead to an influx of former holdless liberated from their Renegade leaders, I befriended one of the older boys left after the trials.” Oh yes, such CHEERY atmospheres for a healthy upbringing! “Up until that point, I’d never really had a friend like him. Most of the other weyrbrats would play with me but… it wasn’t the same bond.” Because he was a Weyrleader’s ilk and we all know how that goes. “So obviously I adored him and followed him around like an annoying puppy. He didn’t seem to mind, though I never grasped until much later why he was so angry all the time. Didn’t understand why his teaching me to use a bow set off my parents so much. Why, even after he Impressed bronze, that my father saw it fit to exile him when all he did was refuse to agree to their views — I mean, I get it now but to a child?” There was probably so much more in layers to that, but K’vir is skimming the surface or perhaps doesn’t recall the entirety and doesn’t care to. “Never touched a bow again, after that. Was terrible at it, anyhow. During all that too, I think that’s when I started to learn to worry. To feel anxiety and uncertainty. Why I impulsively put myself in the path of visiting riders, why I didn’t say no to Igen’s Searchrider or tell him exactly who I was. Did it matter?”
K’vir lapses silent, his hand still laced with F’yr’s though it now shifts to move idly as he mulls over the last of his rambled-mess of a tale. “By that point, I’d started to get an inkling that I didn’t want to be my father or under anyone’s expectations in Fort. So I leapt at the chance of escape, vowing as all kids do that I’d do better and be better and somehow have some wild concept of all these freedoms that would suddenly open up… And then I Impressed. I fought and clawed and pushed my way through that, despite my dismay and frustrated anger of being held back because of my age. So I worked harder, until I proved I was “mature” enough to be tapped into the Wings — and I made a damn good rider! But I didn’t know how to be my own person. If that makes sense?” Oh, is this the end (finally!)? “Probably the source of a lot of my issues.” K’vir jokes with a smirk. “Lingering family issues aside.”
—
K'vir's laughter brings a smile to F'yr's face, but he manages to tame it long enough to give him a mock-dubious look before it's stolen away by the jab to his ribs which sets him laughing. While he doesn't address his family further, he does offer a simple answer to the older man's prompting about the lessons from his dragon in a very bland tone that betrays deep humor, "Well, the Weyr's still standing." So he must have figured it out, with Glorioth, with Risali, with R'hyn, with everyone else he's met in the Weyr. It's fine, Glorioth would insist on all the credit anyway.
As K'vir settles back, so does F'yr, except F'yr's settling back involves a little bit of shifting that doesn't remove the contact of his leg, but does shift the part of it that's touching K'vir's as he turns toward the older man, drawing one leg up on the couch even as he places one arm along the back of the couch, trading hands, but not abandoning that contact either. The fingers lying near K'vir's head might twitch a little, but they don't manage to escape F'yr's self-control until the bronzerider is well into the story that is listened to with rapt attention. Escaping F'yr's self-control means that he's playing with K'vir's hair a little. L I S T E N, there's only so much tactile temptation a man can take; but the thing is, it's just like their finger game, a different layer of connection but none of it bearing the markers that might be common to such physicality that indicates an intention to take it beyond just what it is in this moment. This may explain a little of how a young man like F'yr hasn't exploded from long-term proximity to certain people who have little no respect for personal boundaries and mean nothing provocative by it (or at least, not provocative with Intention).
The younger man's hand pauses mid-GUILTY stroke through the wavy curls as the story draws to an end and he has to decide how to respond. At least he's not sleeping? More than that, the number of questions he has - the curiosity K'vir has further fuelled - is written on his face, but when he speaks, he tilts his head a little and asks quietly, simply, "Do you feel you've gotten a handle on that part since?" And lest that sound bad, F'yr adds, "Farmers tend to have a lot more practicality than sentiment. A lot more defined roles and expectations of them than a lot of other places. I was always a quantity of labor. I mean, I was loved," by some probably more than others, being youngest, "but being a person was not something we were ever encouraged toward." Clearly that's changed since. So what he means here is to make sure K'vir knows that he doesn't find it strange and that it does make sense to him, at least in what ways it can thus far.
—
K’vir might have reacted differently had he not been engrossed in spinning that not so little story of his background (the much abridged, LITE version). Instead, he is only very dimly aware of movement but as the connection isn’t made in his head, F’yr is SAFE to indulge as much as he desires. By the time he has finished talking, his interest lies more in the way the younger bronzerider looks like he might have a novel of questions to ask and is bracing for that versus where that hand may be. If he’s noticed the shift of positions too, he says nothing — it’s harmless, really, just as their continued hand holding remains. “Hmm,” K’vir hesitates, ponderous beneath a deepening frown. “Yes and no? I think I went through a period of grieving, really — which is incredibly odd.” Both to go through it and to actually put it out there in words, even if he seems uncertain (and uncomfortable) at their form. Maybe that wasn’t quite right? He’ll slip his hand free from F’yr’s, but only for gesture-purposes; it will return once he’s done. “I’ve got what I remember as Kyzenviro, the child…” One hand weighs to his left. “And then I have K’vir, bronzerider and ‘free’, in his late teens and tackling the world and all that followed after it.” His other hand weighs to his right. Then they both waver towards the middle, but the gesture is dismissive and empty. “There’s kind of this gap. Can’t really explain it?” Shoulders lift in a shrug, almost helpless. Once, there would’ve been anger, but not so much now. Blinking, he turns his focus back to F’yr, curious. “Is that why you left?” he asks, surprisingly gentle despite the briskness and ultimately very personal question (to his tastes) on the younger bronzerider’s past.
—
Now that the conversation is reengaging in a format that is less pure listening, F'yr's hair-occupied hand returns to the back of the couch. "It doesn't really sound odd to me. I spent at least half of the time I let myself think when I first got here wishing I could take it all back. Once I figured out I couldn't and wouldn't even if I could, there was… A process? Something. It took time to be willing to let go of all those things that were Stefyr. I'm still afraid some days that I'll be caught out one day by some dumb learned response or some bit of memory that was actually good but doesn't work here for whatever reason." His brow wrinkles as if it's his turn to be a little dissatisfied with how those words went together and then he gives a little helpless shrug.
"Maybe the gap is just the bit of the person you are that you can't see clearly yet. It all feeds into who you are, doesn't it?" It seems logically like it must. "Or did you mean something else?" F'yr isn't pressing for the older man to explain differently or better, just assessing what he has and hasn't taken correctly from K'vir's story. There is, however, the sense of an open door if K'vir wants to try to wrangle it straighter than what the younger man does and doesn't understand.
Then there's the question, asked gently, and much more personal than K'vir can probably guess, because HELLO, SENSITIVE TOPIC, FANCY MEETING YOU HERE. There's a blankness briefly to F'yr's expression that is probably the most telling that such a trip-into has occurred. That, and the visible swallow as the bronzerider's lips press together, ordering the words before they sneak out on their own. "I left because my favorite brother had married my best-friend, the girl I was in love with. I was afraid I would poison their happiness or never find my own. I had an uncle like that. In love with someone else's wife for his whole life and never happier than the misery of their company." He shifts to reclaim the beer that was set aside in his earlier position moving to wet his lips.
He must know he doesn't have to go on, but he does. "I'm glad I left, for so many reasons now, not least of all because-" BREATHE, F'YR, "-because my brother died last turn. While I was in training. So I'm very grateful now that they had whatever happiness they did. Worth any amount of my own heartache at the time. And I didn't really understand what it was to love someone like I thought I loved her. I didn't know what it really was to have a real friend who wasn't a brother, either." All those things he's learned since being at the Weyr. He looks to K'vir over the beer bottle as he tips it back and then sets it aside. "Was that so bad?" Addressing the sensitive topic? F'yr seems to think they've both survived alright. He looks, if anything, a little more open, a little more young, a little more F'yr not trying to fake it 'til he makes it.
—
F’yr may be dissatisfied with how the words went together, but something ‘clicks’ for K’vir and that was the point, wasn’t it? More falls into place, though not wholly perfect, it has given him something he hasn’t yet worked with — another perspective. “I’d… never thought of it like that.” Maybe he had meant something else but now that he has that? Food for thought. He doesn’t outwardly thank F’yr or even show much happiness in that small discovery but his quiet acceptance is probably all that is necessary! “Ah,” WHOOPS! There they go, tripping into SENSITIVE TOPICS all because K’vir let loose with a seemingly “innocent” prompt. He may briefly look sincerely apologetic in his grimacing and the words certainly slip past, softly and under his breath. “Sorry.” Wasn’t his business but NOW IT IS! Now that they’re HERE and in the thick of it? K’vir will commit to listening and supporting the younger bronzerider for however long he’ll need it. There is certainly sympathy and understanding when F’yr reveals why, because of love and oh, that pained look is for him and for BOTH of them. He knows what love can do! His brows furrow heavily, eyes closing briefly as he exhales deeply. Gathering himself. “Don’t blame you for wanting to step out from all that. It’s… yeah, it’s hard.” F’yr would know, perhaps, what K’vir is alluding to as well; Risa brought it up, after all, once. And does he need what is coming? BECAUSE IT’S HAPPENING! The mention of death, the way F’yr hesitates, well… that won’t do. K’vir moves surprisingly fast when he’s of mind to do it. So long as the younger bronzerider doesn’t draw away, he’s going to clasp that hand to his shoulder, firm and inviting, even as his body leans in and down slightly. Does he want a hug? His position has shifted on the couch and the body language is reading as open to it. This is HARD(er) stuff and K’vir realizes that F’yr wasn’t obligated to even answer him. His gaze remains on him, focused and so much a lighter blue than a certain cousin. “No, it wasn’t bad at all. I — didn’t mean to pry, but…” Thank you, for sharing all the same, is what his broken, halting, words are trying to convey. “If I learned anything from experience is that you can always learn something from it. Even the worst of it.”
—
WHAT ARE CUDDLY FRIENDS FOR, K'VIR?! New ideas, new perspectives, helping make sense of life. F'yr is just paying back favors already done for him by the older man. There's the slightest shake of the younger man's head to dismiss the apology as it's breathed. He neither wants nor needs one, but he also doesn't take K'vir up on the offer of a hug— at least, not until much later than the body language began to signal it was welcome. The thing is, it's not comfort that F'yr is seeking in the other man's arms, but rather added depth to the closeness that they've been cultivating as they speak. So it's not until just before that last phrase that the younger man, with a very slight smile, shifts to curl himself into K'vir's offer, if it still stands.
There is, of course, the initial moment of figuring out just how he fits here— but there, see? He does, enormous as he is. It can be comfortable, even in a breath or two, a heartbeat or three. "I've learned a lot. I'd give a lot to erase his illness and passing and everything that means and has meant, but other than that I wouldn't change it. I never would have been happy without Glorioth. Never without this place and the people I know and am coming to know better. I'm sure I won't always be happy," BECAUSE HE ISN'T, Y'ALL, he lives with Glorioth; happiness is fleeting and to be much prized, "but I've a much better chance here than I would have had there."
He doesn't seek to leave K'vir's arms now that the moment has passed, but rather just lingers there. Awkward? It doesn't have to be, but maybe it is because it's new? Only K'vir can say. What F'yr can say is a question that might be sensitive in turn, "Have you ever regretted the course of things? Ultimately." Obviously, F'yr expects K'vir to have some regrets in the same manner of his own, but does he… like where he's at now?
—
K’vir is still in the learning stage of NOT APOLOGIZING, so he’s liable to keep doing it from time to time. Habits die hard, okay? The offer still stands until it is either accepted or turned down, so when F’yr seems receptive to the gesture, he will move to try and figure out the same. True, K’vir is an inch shorter and not as muscular but he can make it work! It might start off odd, but the comfortable will sort of sneak in once K’vir remembers to relax into it. “No one should fault you for that.” For wanting to erase the illness or wanting to erase anything from the past. Who’d pass on the chance? Even if he claims to have had come to terms with most things, there’s probably one or two things he could do without still. “Best to drop those regrets, if you can. Sounds like you have… more or less.” Is that a little envy? MAYBE. Awkward? Also maybe, but K’vir doesn’t seem too uncomfortable with F’yr lingering in his arms. It’s NEW, very new, and he is doing his best not to raise his hackles out of nervousness. “For a long time… yes. When I was younger and foolish and did stupid shit. But would I undo going to Igen, if it meant I’d still Impress Zekath? No, I’d do that over and over again. As much as that part of my life is an enigma, it eventually led me to far better paths — not without their own bumps, mind.” He’s speaking of his crossing paths with a certain smol goldrider who was NOT a goldrider then, but would eventually be. “But I am happy with where I am.”
—
"Me too," holds some amusement because F'yr means as much generally where he is and also specifically where he is, namely here in K'vir's arms. Cozy. And yet, the blond seems to want to ask at least the once. "Is this alright?" Is it too much too fast? It's not kissing, but in some ways, it's a different kind of intimacy, really. There are, of course, an endless supply of questions just behind those lips that are lightly pressing together to keep them at bay while this one is allowed its own time to be weighed and balanced and replied to.
—
Given that K’vir is not usually a hugging type to those he doesn’t truly know (unless it’s one of those social called-for gestures), this is a big step. It means F’yr is somewhere on that scale of trust that he’s willing to allow this much intimacy — even though that seems to waver when he brings attention to it. Is it okay? For a moment, his mind flails with the bubble of worry that maybe this IS too much, too fast? What is he even DOING!? He almost answers right then, which would’ve been the irrational part of him talking and not HIS answer. Instead he bites it back, takes a moment to brush aside those pesky insecurities that he’s somehow doing something wrong and exhales heavily. Breathe. “This is alright.” he rumbles, pulling him a little closer for emphasis. This is good! And desire. Nothing more, but as F’yr hasn’t put that pressure on him, K’vir won’t break. Then, because it wouldn’t be cinnamon roll K’vir without him prompting: “You?” Is it alright?
—
Perhaps K'vir's almost poor answer will be comforted by the fact that giving an answer like that has a physical effect on F'yr: to relax a little. Perhaps he was concerned he was pushing his luck. "This is nice. Unexpected, a little. But nice. I'm not sure… I'm not sure I would have known how to approach something like this with you," notice that blush is back now as he makes the small confession. Blue eyes even flee contact as he adds, "Before the flight, it seemed a little… I don't know. Presumptuous or something. Pushy? To imagine you might consider a deeper something than simply agreeing not to punch me and giving me advice when I ask."
This prompts a quiet chuckle and a redoubling of the color in his cheeks as he brings his eyes back to K'vir and adds, "Even all that felt… like I might be asking too much." After what he didn't ask initially. "I'm…" BLUSHING EVEN MORE. He licks his suddenly dry lips before he manages the rest. "Pretending to be a lot less nervous than I am about wanting you to like me. To keep on liking me." Who knew F'yr, man of silent apparent confidence, could suffer insecurities of his own? It's a good thing Glorioth is asleep or there might be COMMENTARY. "I'm… probably making this weird now." He has the self-awareness to realize this and the ability to laugh at himself, one hand coming up intending to rub across his red red red face.
—
“Unexpected?” DO TELL, F’yr? K’vir is curious but it’s not the bad, worrisome kind of curious. Not know how to approach this with him? It takes a second, but once it clicks in place, he’s going to start blushing just as much as his counterpart. There’s something of a chuckled breath but he’s biting his tongue because oh LOOK THERE’S MORE! Are they going to have a contest of who is the more red faced? Because it’s a pretty close contest here! “Not making it weird.” Ignore that K’vir practically coughs that out, because he’s suddenly ultra shy. “I think I get it.” He thinks? That embrace doesn’t slacken, but he does lean back a little to meet F’yr’s gaze a little more properly. It seems important to be looking at him for this. “I don’t sleep with men.” K’vir probably should’ve cushioned that better and from the way he grimaces, he realizes TOO LATE how that came off a little as REJECTION — which it is not. WAIT, F’yr! There’s more! Once he’s done working his jaw and licking at his lower lip and getting over that whole words-sticking issue that plagues him on the regular. “But,” Deep breath is then exhaled slowly and he pushes through the rest. “I make very rare exceptions. D’lei was one - and the only one for a long time - but it took time. You will be too, but I need more time.” Now there’s a hint of a smile. “With you. Not just physically but just — together. Everyday things. This has been nice… comfortable.” So it’s a start. K’vir flounders a bit, ready to say more but instead freezes, only a mildly frustrated sound taking place instead of words. “Might not be explaining it right?” he says, with a scoff. No surprise there, RIGHT? “You’ve given me no reason not to like you, F’yr.” Sound familiar? “So, don’t think you have to worry there, about me keeping on in liking you.” Enough that all the maybes go away and lines can be crossed together mutually.
—
F'yr might surprise K'vir here, in fact, because when he says he doesn't sleep with men so candidly, the younger man doesn't flinch away. What that probably indicates in a very real way is that… if this was all he and K'vir ever shared? This kind of closeness and the willingness to share conversation that goes deeper than the surface, things about worries or hopes or dreams? That would be enough for F'yr to go on with. It might also explain why Risali hasn't come home with any other confessions since That One Time, and That Other Time, and why neither of those times has been a confession to much more than kissing and yet F'yr is still quite present in Risali's life, with no sign of flagging just because he hasn't gotten laid. He doesn't interrupt though, for all that there's no sign he's hurt by K'vir's words.
Rather, once K'vir has finished his shoulders shift enough to indicate a shrug and he smiles. "It's alright if I'm not, you know, in the end. It's not like there's some finish line to cross. I just… I'd like to be close with you, that's all. Closer." He'll take what he can get, really. One wonders perhaps if there will ever come a point where F'yr feels like he needs something that someone cannot give in the end, but that's something that's yet to come if it ever will and not worth worrying over just now. "I like just being together. The everyday things." There's a brief smile as he glances away, but the source doesn't seem immediately present, nor does he offer up the tale, whatever it was. What he does offer is, "I sleep with men. A lot more often than women, really, but that might just be because I'm closer with more men than women right now. I… really hate sleeping with people I don't know. Flights are usually awful that way for me." He looks a little sheepish, but to each their own.
Then… shyly, "I don't usually bring people here." For REASONS. "But would you like to look around?" It is actually conferring a special privilege. Even if it would mean leaving the comfortable and comforting cuddle.
—
K’vir’s reaction is to look exactly as one should when they’re both relieved but embarrassed when they realize that the whole picture wasn’t properly assessed. “Oh.” Oops? Now there’s more BLUSHING and sheepish looks as he drops his head a little to the side. Of course, that’s what F’yr had meant by closer! And not the black and white logical jump to physical. Oftentimes, K’vir is very much like Zekath and it’s a struggle for him to remember that the world isn’t so starkly divided — there is so much grey area to explore and, yes, enjoy. “That doesn’t bother me.” If F’yr has other partners? It’s none of K’vir’s business (yes, even if one happens to be related to him, NONE OF HIS BUSINESS) who the younger bronzerider takes as a lover. His admission about hating to sleep with strangers and the problems flights pose by that? Well, K’vir voices a low grunt of understanding, along with a grimace. “It’s the biggest struggle but it gets a little easier, with time. Not ever… entirely okay?” At least for him. “But if there’s respect.” Mutually. “It helps.” There is visible surprise to the last, when F’yr shyly offers that invitation. K’vir might’ve leapt off the couch, if he was anyone else but himself. Luckily, he’s much more collected and aware of things; including when a special privilege is dropped in his lap. “Only if you’re alright with it. Don’t have to show me… everything.” Half tour, full tour or none at all, K’vir won’t mind or take it as a slight. “This is your space.” And he’s ALL about having ‘sanctuary’, so he gets it. Maybe, too, he is selfishly trying to give F’yr a way out so they DON’T have to move from this cuddle pile on the couch.
—
"Good," because it is good that K'vir is unbothered by F'yr's additional partners, but it wasn't quite why he was saying so. There's just a smile, though, and not an attempt to make that more clear. The word could serve as answer to the last thing, too. He does glance past the older man for a moment, but maybe he's not eager to separate too far. He shifts, though, just a little, so the conversation can be more comfortable, the embrace looser, but no less close. "In a bit, then." He decides. "Maybe I'll make you imagine it first. Close your eyes." The flash of his smile holds just a little bit of mischief, but really, K'vir, what's the worst that could happen?
Once those eyes are closed, the only physical thing that happens is F'yr snuggling just a little closer. "Most mornings, it's all I can do to not kill myself getting out of the homestead and caught up with whatever notion Glori's taken into his head." He can say this because the head in question is asleep, still. "But some day, I wake up and can make my klah in the kitchen and sneak back up the stairs to my room - at the top of the tower," OF COURSE, "and onto the balcony and watch the sunrise. The tower room below has a balcony, too, but the view isn't as nice for sunrise and sunset. I mostly use it for storage since I don't really need much space yet." Yet. "And there's more storage in funny shaped rooms at the top of the stairs here and along the balcony-hallway that overlooks this space." It's not actually so large, just impressively shaped. "Then, of course, there's the treasure trove outside, but we won't go there today. Glorioth might wake up." And then where would they be?
Rather than signal K'vir to open his eyes once the word picture has been painted, there's a light brush of lips to lips after a small shift in the blond's frame. It's so brief. "Sorry. I said I wouldn't." But he's still right there, the unintentional LIAR. Maybe now K'vir will have his chance to storm off.
—
K’vir is probably oblivious that he’d missed that mark but things are chugging along and so he remains unaware. His bigger concerns are that F’yr is asking him to close his eyes and the older bronzerider is left to eye him skeptically. IMAGINE IT? What sorcery trick is this? But after weighing things in that slow, ponderous, head of his, he’ll nod. Then with a deep exhale and sigh, he’ll settle comfortably and close his eyes (maybe with one last peek from one because of that SMILE). Sure, what’s the worst that can happen? FAMOUS LAST WORDS, F’yr! That’s what. He doesn’t comment as he’s led along on this “tour” and for all his lack of verbal skills, he can be imaginative and so those structures do come to mind — probably no where near close to their real counterparts but close enough. It at least paints out the layout of the place and how F’yr spends some of his time here. Is there some sympathy, for the mention of not wanting to get up? Or cherishing the QUIET mornings? Very likely.
Only the discussion of such things will either wait or not be voiced at all because F’yr goes and makes himself an unintentional LIAR! How dare he so briefly brush his lips to his? Such devilish betrayal tricks! He almost didn’t catch it, but K’vir’s assumptions are confirmed with F’yr’s apology and his eyes open, only then narrow under a not entirely thrilled scowl. Color rises to his cheeks (and adorably his ears) and for all intents and purpose he DOES come off as upset. Angry? Not quite. Something is off about that, as it’s temper but from what? Indecision, is what. But if F’yr wants to play, so can K’vir (kind of, not really). There’s a grunted breath and then he’s going in for the kill — not with FISTS. No, he is kissing him and properly at that, all firm and lingering (and maybe a touch of tongue because eyyyy…). A proper kiss, a proper taste and just when it’s getting good? K’vir breaks it and promptly moves in an attempt to flick F’yr hard upside the head with his hand. BAD BRONZERIDER! “No half measures.” he rumbles, gruffly and still chuffed. “I hate half measures. You do it or you don’t. You mean it, or you don’t.” There’s reasons behind why K’vir balks at teasing on physical levels or half-gestures with those he does not know very well. It’s not F’yr’s fault, but this is why they’re drawing lines, right? SOME DAY, F’yr, he won’t be such a sour puss to “games”, ok?
LOOKS LIKE CUDDLE TIME IS OVER~ Or not. K’vir’s not shoving himself away but he’s putting just a little space between them so that they’re back to how they started on the couch. Side by side, maybe hands or legs touching but no more. The ball, so to speak, is in F’yr’s court now!
—
But K'viiiiiirrrrr— but really, L I S T E N. Hear the way F'yr's breath hitches in genuine surprise when K'vir kisses him so delightfully? There's no hesitation in returning the kiss, even with the surprise, because were this a game (and really, it's not) then F'yr would have been the one to start it. He's smiling after until he's clipped by that hand and it has him pulling away (but not too far) laughing. "Hey!" he defends himself, even as he makes no protest at being shifted farther apart. His cheeks are just as red. But what he needs to defend is this, "It wasn't a half-measure. It was a measure I didn't plan to take." His hands come up to rub his face, his cheeks as if this will help with the intensity of his coloring there. "I'd meant what I said on the trail. Shells." But something about the situation… something about K'vir… "I couldn't resist." And this is a man who leashes an awful lot in order to be the lifemate of his dragon. That he lost control here… well, that is embarrassing.
He sits back a little, still rubbing his face. "That's what I'm sorry for. For saying one thing and doing another. I—" he blows out a breath, now at a loss for words and explanation. If not stopped, the next move is to shift up off the couch and roll his shoulders, trying to ease the variety of sudden flustered tension lacing his frame. "Maybe it's time to look around?" It might give him time to collect himself and get ahold of what he lost track of. If anything at all, F'yr seems not only abashed but at something of a loss. When was the last time he was with someone that made him lose control like that when the someone wasn't even trying?
—
NEVER FEAR, F’yr! K’vir was L I S T E N I N G but you’ll never get him to admit that he heard the way that breath hitched or the way he didn’t even hesitate to return it! Because that would mean he HEARD and actually had to BEHAVE because his body was wanting to leap along with a hesitant heart and a mind that wasn’t sure WTF is going on? It does not make the best of starts and K’vir’s really wanting this to go right for a change. “How is that any different?” he asks, still grumbling like a slightly irked panda bear. Does he feel a LITTLE sorry for smacking him? Yes. Especially as it dawns that again, he might’ve partially misread. There’s a long suffering sigh and now they’re both embarrassed again for varying REASONS.
He won’t stop F’yr from getting up from the couch, affording him some space while he tries to clear his own head. By the time K’vir rises, he feels a touch more grounded but notably his gaze drifts towards the door. Could he be? But it’s not an excuse to leave that tumbles past his lips and surely that’s not his hand resting on his arm… then over his hand. Sorry? His gaze isn’t as irked, but there’s a neutral sort of ‘you okay’ lurking in there, even as he speaks something else. “I’m not sure I understand.” GET READY TO HEAR THAT A LOT. It’s K’vir’s staple! But at least it’s honest? He’s picking up on some of this but not all and it’s bothering him. Refresh him, will you? try to use small words
—
It's a heartbeat or so, but then F'yr's fingers slip between K'vir's and he turns enough to at least be more or less facing him, his flush deepening. "The-" It's his turn to have some word trouble. How to put it? His lips press together while he works it all through in his mind, but his thumb strokes against the skin of the older man's hand in a bid for patience - though that, at least, seems to be easy for them to offer one another so far. "I had a hard lesson once about only kissing people who wanted to be kissed, by me. I don't… I guess I don't always ask now, but I do like to be sure someone wants me to kiss them before I do." This is complicated because K'vir clearly was not against kissing.
The blond's brow is wrinkled with the complex consideration of a thing he hasn't actually fully processed himself, which makes this harder to articulate to another person, but look at him try. "When I asked you to close your eyes, I didn't… I wasn't planning on kissing you." He sounds a little like he's confessing to having stolen a biscuit hot off the cook's tray from the oven. "I'm glad you didn't mind, but I'm…" Something. He's feeling something about it. "It hasn't happened to me that I… felt like I just had to even though I knew I didn't know if you would want to in…" He clears his throat, "Well, since I learned my lesson." Maybe this is some other kind of lesson? With as red as F'yr has turned, it can be sure that he's going to take something away from all of this. "Does that help?" He does manage to ask, to find out if he's even explained the right thing, expression vulnerable, hiding nothing. If K'vir was expecting a smooth operator, he has come to the wrong homestead. (R'hyn, Ila and Cita are one door down EYO~~~)
—
He has all the time in the world to work his way through it, K’vir isn’t putting pressure on him to answer quick. Brows lift for the mention of hard lessons and kissing, but he nods in the next breath because that he can grasp easily enough. Is he aware of how he’s complicating it? “You don’t have to ask me.” Because he’s not against it! Is he fully comfortable with it? That might be the issue, that he’s still struggling with the idea of being okay with that, so soon, with someone still relatively new. The eventual explanation is met with a slight frown but that’s only on his part and no way a reflection of disapproval. LISTEN, he doesn’t need to be reminded of the smooth operators nearby, okay? But he’s beginning to see a picture forming and whether it’s right or the wrong one again? K’vir’s going for it. Hesitantly, uncertain but with gradual certainty. “It just felt like a right moment or a good one…” Is he warm or cold? “… so you went for it. Since we’d said we were okay with kissing.” More or less. “Hmm.” He pauses, his hand tightening firmly around F’yr’s hand. “… I might’ve over reacted.” Sorry?
Clearing his throat, K’vir considers the door again, then the actual room itself or the spaces beyond (and NO F’YR DO NOT READ INTO THAT). It’s something to do, while the wheels inside his head grind and turn. “You didn’t,” he begins again. “Really do anything wrong.” Sorry again, his bad! That hand that might’ve smacked F’yr earlier is now scrubbing at K’vir’s face, as he looks rightly embarrassed. “I’m not…” he tries again, with a small sigh. “Great with being toyed with. Even if it’s just meant to be a joke or playful.” Exception be a certain smol goldrider but she’s earned that. “So I wrongly assumed… and not fairly.” F’yr’s really done nothing to indicate he is meaning anything else behind his actions. “Since you were only doing what anyone would, I think.” There’s no sign from K’vir that he’s asking for more kisses right now but one gesture, familiar and safe is given; he will rest his forehead to F’yr’s and hold them there. It’s fine, they’re good. If F’yr is okay, then K’vir is okay and they can move on.
—
If nothing else, F'yr is probably comforted to know that he didn't overstep that way, even if he did in another. He chews very lightly on his lower lip while he listens to K'vir, eyes studying both face and body language. He doesn't try to respond right away, to anything, other than to return the pressure of K'vir's hand in a way that's silent reassurance. There will be words about that, but not yet. When their foreheads come together in the familiar way, he's not looking for more than that, but his free hand does come up to cup K'vir's cheek, long fingers rubbing very lightly along the jaw near the ear.
"I'm not sure if the moment felt like the right one or a good one, just… that I suddenly had to kiss you. Even—" Even not knowing if that was really okay. His eyes close and he sighs out his breath. "Lost control." That's dangerous in his life, actually, but because his lifemate is who he is: a beast with very limited self-control, for whom any measure of temperance must come from his lifemate. "But I can tell you I wasn't playing." The words come quieter, as confession. "And you reacted… the way you needed to, in the moment." F'yr doesn't blame him or hold it against him. "Which kind of comes back to us not knowing each other necessarily well enough for me to be needing to kiss you." That much can make him smile, if not quite laugh. It is sort of funny, though.
"I thought she loved me, you know. The girl I left home because of. She was friendly with me in a way I'd never been friendly with anyone before. I don't think she meant to toy with my heart, but it's not something I do, if it can be helped." The hand that was at K'vir's jaw now falls to press flat against his heart. "Apparently you can't trust me not to kiss you when I say I'm not going to, but I think I can tell you that you can trust me not to make any sport of you, or this, or her, or any of it." If he were the kind of man to do so, he probably wouldn't be here now, really.
—
Will it help comfort F’yr more that K’vir doesn’t recoil or dismiss the touch to his jaw? Oddly, he is more receptive to that, his head tilting just-so towards said fingers. “It’s alright,” K’vir repeats again, because it’s the truth in this moment between them. Will it always be okay that he loses control? Of course not. But here and now? He’s already forgiven. “We all lose control, sometimes. Sneaks up.” he explains, with a small smile that makes it close to a hint of amusement there. A brow quirks, his head tilting more at a quizzical angle as he mulls over the rest. There’s a quiet huff and then something closer to a chuckle. “Yeah.” Maybe it does come back around! F’yr’s laugh draws a fleeting broader smile from the older bronzerider and then it’s right back to business. His eyes follow that hand, before lifting back to meet F’yr’s gaze. A beat, then two and his features relax a fraction more and he allows that small smile to stay in place. “I do trust you and… appreciate you actually saying it.” Now he has ammunition Now he can take that as the first step to trusting him all the more, in the wake of this and quiet confessions. “Having been ‘sport’ before I’d rather not be marked that way again. Didn’t mean to assume.” Another squeeze of their joined hands, then a more manly nudge-shove of his curled fist to F’yr’s shoulder, if permitted that much! Which is as much of a sign of ‘all is well’ as things might get without K’vir actually spelling it out. Glancing about the room once more, he takes a moment to consider again before turning his attention back on F’yr. “You still feeling open to showing me around?” he asks, genuinely curious and yet… he doesn’t exactly smile but it’s THERE all the same. “Or you want to grab something to eat?” LISTEN. K’vir realizes that that probably makes MORE PROBLEMS but he’s also not putting out hopes either way. They could part ways now and he’d be FINE with that — they got lives, right? Even if returning home right now just means K’vir likely dozes off because overnights are the worst.
—
"Well, I'll remember that if it ever sneaks up on you." F'yr counters, "so I can quote you." See? It's not that F'yr plays no games, it's just that he doesn't play those games. See that playful grin; he's a closet imp. Watch him, K'vir. His body sways a little even after the manly nudge-shove of the shoulder is done, his eyes going around the room and toward the kitchen that's none-too-shabby a thing. Most of the rest is left to be acknowledged with simple looks or slight nods. He hears it all, he's listening, but when he speaks it's not to ask questions or pursue matters further. "How about both? I don't have anything fancy, but I keep things supplied." Even though he rarely has guests. Huh. Probably a farm carryover? Or maybe he just takes his lunch with him to the office some days? Or is always provisioned JUST IN CASE OF GLORI? All of these would probably be reasonable things. That leaves only one question really, "Which first?" Is K'vir more curious or more hungry?
—
K’vir isn’t worried about THAT at least and even laughs quietly for that grin. Now that they’re back on steady ground together, he seems to relax gradually. Never fully, but it is certainly better than when he first walked through that door. “Both?” he echoes back, only to look up towards the ceiling thoughtfully. Hmm. “… yeah, that sounds good, if you’re okay with it. I’m not wanting to — impose?” Yet he seems to sense that this is not something to turn down, all the same. “Don’t need anything fancy.” Now there’s a hint of a real smile there; see? He’s easy to keep! “You should come by sometime to our weyr. For dinner.” ‘Our’ meaning Risali and his (sorry RISA he’s just GONNA INVITE FOLKS OVER). “I’m not half bad at cooking.” Spoiler alert: he’s actually a really good cook! Why do you think a certain smol goldrider keeps him around? JUST HIS GOOD LOOKS? AHAHAHAHAHA! K’vir is definitely more curious and so he will gesture with his hand for F’yr to lead on, when he’s ready!
—
"I'd like that." F'yr's reply to the dinner invitation is a very easy one so it comes quickly, because he would. He likes both adults involved, clearly, and probably most (maybe not all) of the brood likely to be AROUND or even AT dinner (gasp!). "Just have Risa kidnap me on the appropriate evening." She's an experienced kidnapper, it's true, even if the nature of their collective work doesn't leave much time for exciting excursions of criminal varieties. "Or give me warning if you want me to look nice." Nevermind that he'll probably end up styled and coiffed by willing small hands regardless, should the mood strike.
Then, lips pressing together in a moment of indecision, F'yr keeps eye contact with K'vir while he brings their joined hands up to his lips to kiss the back of the older man's hand before dropping the contact so he can bump shoulders with him and shoot him a side-long smile. "Well, we'll end in the kitchen then." And thus the tour begins, by going up the stairs at the back of the room to the long hall that has three doors along it. Two opening to currently mostly unused storage (or really weird bedroom spaces for short people, in a pinch), and then the washroom. This seems to be one of the newer renovated rooms since nothing looks outdated and there is, in fact, indoor plumbing (MUCH TO EVERYONE'S RELIEF) a shower, a hip tub that doesn't look like it would fit F'yr (but listen, farmer) and sink and toilet.
Then there's the second story tower room which, as he said, is a (very large) bedroom/office/workroom that's currently storage space (again, he really doesn't own much, yet), but there is a desk here that seems to be set up to enjoy the windows to the outside, and do small tasks. There's squat filing cabinet disguised as a side table. (DON'T TELL.) Then back out the door to the spiral stair that leads up to the top room. He doesn't hesitate on the stairs so this must be alright with him, and indeed it's the most personal space.
The tower rooms have to be spacious to make up for a lack of space in the rest of the house and F'yr has, in the past months of ownership, really made this space his own. There's a comfortable, low but very large bed tucked along the inner most wall and there are curtains that can be drawn over the wide windows and doors to the balcony. Much as might be found in a generous living space within the Weyr, there's a table and chairs, a wood stove that supplements the heat that can be pumped up through clever vents from the mud room down below where the main heat source other than the main room's fireplace exists. There's netting that can be pulled down over the windows in place of curtains to let in air in the summers for the room is routinely toasty for its height in summer.
It looks like there's a project in progress to give the bed itself a set of drapes separate from the curtains (maybe there's some dragon issues there, but nothing to be spoken of right now). There's a reading nook under one of the windows and a bookshelf built into the cozy and space-enough-for-two-to-snuggle cushioned bench there, but it's lonely, with only a few books as yet occupying the space. There are other built in shelves and mind, of course, that everywhere one looks there's an excess of loving detail in the woodwork. This wasn't made for F'yr as someone's nest is being made, but rather for love of something else, or someone else, who no longer lives here, though the space is no less loved just because it wasn't originally meant for him.
There's a chest of drawers and all the other usual things, like night stands and light sources and the like, but the thing F'yr really takes the time to point out to K'vir, whose simpler inquiries he's answered easily as best he can throughout the dour, but now he's reclaiming that hand, murmuring, "Trust me," and pulling him toward the bed itself, just so they can get to its edge, just so F'yr can stop just at it's edge and crook a finger in his free hand to point up.
Once F'yr has drawn the attention to the right place, he moves to flick the appropriate switches, lighting up the gorgeously carved cosmos that he can stare at while he lays in this bed, in this special place. In fact, sharing this tiny, very intimate detail of the space, leaves him blushing, but a few steps distant from K'vir, watching the other man's face for reaction. It ain't no slide, but…
—
Well doesn’t K’vir just look pleased as punch that F’yr agreed! Okay, so it’s not like he’s beaming with joy here but there is a certain brightness to his otherwise reserved expression. Could be that this feels normal and good and safe enough that he feels he can be more expressive. “I’ll let her know she’s on kidnap duty, then.” He’s not even going to argue that or even dare to suggest that F’yr just come on his own like any SENSIBLE person! Why be a killjoy to the fun? Even if it’s not his cup ‘o tea. He can pretend it all went down NORMAL, while he’s in the kitchen (and yes, he loves it in there, okay?). As for the brood children, they could be in attendance or they may make an appearance and then disappear while the adults have their meal. Because sometimes K’vir just wants some PEACE and SANITY with his food.
There’s a blink as their hands lift and F’yr kisses the back of his and it’s so odd and yet not so terrible that K’vir can only laugh — okay, it’s more of a startled chuckled breath, but it’s better than being smacked upside the head, right? Here’s to another shoulder bump and the older bronzerider seems calm(er). “Seems reasonable,” he replies back and follows F’yr along. He’s a respectful guest, keeping mostly to himself and his comments tasteful. Does F’yr expect anything else or less from him? K’vir may even make the occasional remark on the build and structure, but does not expect the bronzerider to truly answer his observations. Then it’s up into the bedroom, with K’vir not even hesitating a step so long as F’yr doesn’t falter — and when he keeps steady on, he will drift into the personal space alongside him. “Well,” he admires because it is really a nice space even if not entirely finished. “… this is certainly cozy.” It’s a lot more than what his is (don’t worry, he’s not that envious)! The words ‘trust me’ and his hand being reclaimed earn a quick look of suspicion from K’vir but he relents in the end. Trust given, he’ll do as he’s told and peer upwards — and he may not have let go of F’yr’s hand either.
LITTLE DOES F’YR KNOW, that K’vir’s loft has stars too — not quite like this but little pin-hole styles that reflect a night sky in miniature. This, though? He’s visibly awed and swept up into the sight of it and the artistry and skill. Hopefully F’yr doesn’t mind being forgotten for a few minutes! When at last he has his fill of the sight, he’ll lower his gaze to the younger bronzerider. “Was that there like this when you got this place? It’s beautiful work.”
—
F'yr, once he's flipped those switches, comes back close enough that the arms aren'st stretched, so close, in fact, that he ends up rather hugging that arm in his current possession, his chin moving to settle on K'vir's shoulder, Risa-like EXCEPT that he is FAR FROM SMOL. "It was. The man who lived here did an amazing job with everything." And the bronzerider is sufficiently awed and honored. "I'm very lucky in my friends." He means R'hyn. Probably also Risa. But listen, one has a death in the family (an important one) and one ends up with PERKS. He's content, for the moment, to leave his head on K'vir's shoulder, but to turn it so he can look up at what's there and revel in the moment.
But after a moment, he straightens, smiling at the older man for a moment and then leaning, leaning, to flick off the lights. It's more impressive in the dark, of course, but it's not dark yet. "Food." He announces-slash-suggests, tugging at the hand, only to pause, "Oh, unless you want to go out on the balcony. That's a better idea," he decides in the breath that follows. "Go on out and make yourself comfortable and I'll bring the food up." K'vir can investigate F'yr's kitchen later. "We can eat out there." F'yr often does, really, in the company of his lifemate or just the forest that surrounds the wide, wide clearing.
—
Those stars are worth their weight for not only a very unique and enjoyable decor, but that they sufficiently keep K’vir enthralled! So much so, that F’yr hugging his arm and resting his chin on his shoulder goes by UNNOTICED (okay, maybe not entirely) — it feels natural and safe and yes Rise-Like, that the older bronzerider goes along with it. “Mhm,” he agrees, whether or not he has an INKLING on who was referred to there. “That does help.” Having friends and friends with connections! K’vir won’t protest as F’yr straightens and even returns that smile (in smaller form). Hand tugging aside, he will seem eager to take up the suggestion. “I’ll meet you out there, then.” he agrees. Yes, that is a wonderful plan and K’vir will take him up on it, no hesitation or questions (or SUSPICIONS) because what’s the worst that can happen? Stepping away, he’ll nod to F’yr and wait until the younger bronzerider turns away to leave before heading, as suggested, to that balcony. See? Trust in him, NOT to go snooping (not that he really could)! And he’ll be there, on that balcony, settled as comfortably as he can be.
—
It's not an immediate return. Given that it's not, it's probably a safe bet that F'yr is either not worried about K'vir poking around, or okay with it if he were of the inclination to take a look around. But really, probably the most enjoyable way to pass the time is to sit in one of the rockers (plural) on the balcony. It's a pretty view as the light starts to leave the sky. When the younger bronzerider returns, he's accompanied by mouthwatering smells coming from the tray he carries. True to his word though, the fare is simple and set on a table between the rockers so he can uncover breakfast-for-dinner.
There's a bowl of what looks and smells like a rich sausage gravy and biscuits to put it on, and a side of eggs. It's hardly gourmet, but it's plentiful and it's appetizing, if you like that kind of thing. There's new beer bottles and water, but the piece de resistance and the real give away that F'yr could have said something sooner about his own enjoyment of the kitchen is a loaf of hearty farmhouse bread that had to have been made by F'yr's hands recently and re-warmed because this isn't the kind of thing that typically can be found in the Xanadu caverns - even if there are similar loaves. And, of course, he doesn't say a word about it as he settles in.
—
K'vir will definitely enjoy the view, as he's a simple man in some ways and the forests hold a sense of nostalgia and comfort in so many ways. Thankfully, he doesn't embarrass himself by falling asleep while F'yr is gone, but there is a sort of drowsy look to him at first. That is, until he realizes what's on the tray he's carrying. Simple fare it may be, but he's not blind and the sight of the food and the skill with it brings a quiet laugh. "You can cook." he observes with amusement. "Won't she just be thrilled?" A hint, there, half joke, all seriousness because who doesn't enjoy having connections with people who can prepare even simple food?
The beer is appreciated, but it's the bread K'vir goes for, because he knows a GOOD THING when he sees it. So maybe F'yr can have a moment of pride, while the older bronzerider helps himself to it and, while not exactly singing praises, his expression and muted sounds of enjoyment should be enough. "Got a knack for bread, huh?" he compliments, glancing sidelong to the younger man and smiling, faintly. Listen, F'yr's not going to mind if K'vir just helps himself in the meantime, right? Maybe he was hungrier than he let on.
—
K'vir's half-joke earns a laugh, but more than that, there's faux affront as he opens his beer and leans back in the rocker. "I have many admirable qualities, cooking is just one of them." Yes, start with the good stuff. Lure K'vir into the trap. "And I'm more concerned about you being thrilled just now." Risali may always HOVER like a SPECTRE WITH POPCORN over their interactions given their mutual admiration and varied relationships with a certain smol goldrider, but this is F'yr's moment to casually make it clear that Risa being happy matters, of course, in this moment, it's about K'vir. Some might notice that Risali is not present in this scene moment to defend herself to disgrace herself to fan herself to LISTEN this is only going to get worse so we'll end it here.
"You didn't think all these muscles," yes, he's aware of them, judging by the gesture that indicates his biceps, "came from something other than punching down dough, did you?" F'yr manages a credible seriousness to his voice when he says that, before he drinks and then allows himself a grin. "Not so much a knack, really. Just a lot of practice. I mentioned the size of the family all under one roof. It meant none of us younger ones escaped a lot of shifts of kitchen duty while Mum and the Aunts managed things. I'm not great, but I have a lot of practice and I've been getting one of the cooks here to teach me a little more. Unfortunately, that's pretty occasional since Glori takes up most of my time outside work." Read: Glorioth is and always will be his highest priority. Most riders seem to grasp this, but it seems to bear saying in F'yr's mind. (Also, most of his time during work. The amount of multitasking F'yr does to help keep the Weyr safe is immense, given the enabling golds and bronze wingmates the dragon has.)
—
How adorable (AGAIN) is this? The two of them kicking back, opening beers and sharing good food and handmade at that! It’s like they’ve known each other all their lives, in that companionable moment. Just ignore what happened moments before, in the other rooms and before that too. “You bring up some homemade bread and a full tray of cooked food and you’re worried about me being thrilled?” K’vir can’t help but laugh a little around a mouthful of food — that share of the bread that is his, is dwindling FAST. Shaking his head, he’ll probably refrain from hinting at a smol goldrider less they STILL SUMMON HER somehow risa risa risa
L I S T E N. There are many a few who would likely take a nice long look at those wonderful biceps, but K’vir is not them (or his cousin) and therefore while the gesture isn’t lost on him or the joke, F’yr’s spared any oogling. “No, of course not.” he replies and for a moment the levelness in his tone might suggest he didn’t get the humor; that is until he smile and ah-yes, there it is, in the eyes! He got it. “Mhm, that makes sense. I learned more out of necessity? Wasn’t always great at it.” Dragonrider by thirteen, fourteen? Presumedly living on his own after that, he either got very sick of relying on the caverns and who really enjoys feeling helpless? So he learned. Self sufficient (okay, maybe Zekath pushed him a lot)! “Don’t have to be great at it for it to be appreciated. You know how many people can’t even do this?” He gestures towards the standard fare F’yr brought up. There’s a nod of understanding to Glorioth taking priority. That is something K’vir can understand all too well.
—
"Not bad for not much notice, I'll grant you." F'yr allows as if it were something weighty he had to give a lot of consideration to, but he flashes a smile at K'vir at that laugh, appearing to be more pleased for having been at least part of the reason for it. "No one starts good at things. I never have." Except maybe a few things, but listen, we're not talking about other of F'yr's other admirable abilities here and now. "But we all learn what we need to and sometimes, if we're lucky, the things we want to, too." He smiles over at K'vir as he reaches for his bowl of gravy and one of the biscuits (equally homemade and re-warmed for the occasion).
"I'll look forward to when you can return the favor." Beat. "And then maybe we can do it together, sometime." His lips press briefly together, "I… miss that, about being at the farm. It's not the same here, being on kitchen duty. It would be nice to make a meal with someone." For a chance. He's blushing again at this slightly sheepish confession, as if missing things from his life before were some kind of slightly shameful secret.
"Anything else you ended up teaching yourself?" He knows enough of K'vir's story to not need to be told again that K'vir's priority has been Zekath for a very long time now, but it doesn't stop him from being interested in the life K'vir has built for himself since.
—
K'vir will eventually move on from that (lovely) bread and onto the rest, taking his time in enjoying the meal so thoughtfully put together — even with such short notice. It's an appreciated gesture, the effort, even if small! "Guess you got a point there," he agrees, without much hesitation this time around. “Oh sure, put the pressure on.” It’s a light tease, but it could also be the truth. Don’t you start a challenge, F’yr! K’vir’s going to take you up on it. He’ll listen between mouthfuls as F’yr speaks, brows furrowing a moment in thought (and don’t worry, he won’t point out the sheepishness being shown). “You know… there are Turndays coming up eventually? Or we could just find some reason. Like a ‘pick me up’ from a shitty day when everyone’s being miserable cu— just miserable.” It’s hard to tell if K’vir caught himself because of the swearing or because he doesn’t truly enjoy bad mouthing political figures (Holders, mostly Holders). Politics and all that stuff? Not his deal. Again, likely referencing a smol certain someone in their lives but he keeps it open to ALL. “Might be nice to have a second pair of hands.” THERE YOU GO, F’YR~ That’s a yes, me too.
K’vir tilts his head, looking off as he combs his thoughts for anything interesting. His slight embarrassment might be that he can’t find anything noteworthy, which makes him cringe on the outside and audibly sigh. “Nothing really remarkable?” Maybe that’s a problem. Finishing the last of his share of the food, he’ll set aside that in favour of collecting the beer. “Or isn’t related to being a rider. Sad, isn’t it?” Such is life! He gestures with a tip of his beer. Your turn, F’yr! “You?”
—
"You don't really need an excuse," F'yr counters with a smile, "to do everyday stuff together." He even bites his lower lip in a way that is just adorable. (SORRYNOTSORRY, DEAL WITH IT, K'VIR.) Still, with a new touch of a blush he lifts his shoulders in a kind of shrug that is willing for any or all of the above. He'd probably even be down for the premise of a competition, but K'vir will win, because F'yr will forget halfway through that it's a competition of any kind. Oops.
"I don't think it's sad. As long as you're happy," and that comes with a weight lift of a single brow, but an open face that shows quite plainly the younger man is not judging the older one for being caught up in the daily delights and downfalls of the moments that compile a life. "There's always time," if he wants to change something. F'yr, it would seem, is offering to be a part of that, if it's wanted. "I learned to read." He flashes a smile that this time isn't the least abashed. "I like to read the dictionary." He doesn't point out it's the one R'hyn gave him.
"I learned to sign." He even shows that off by signing the words with one hand. "And I've been hiking a lot. Learning the forest. When I was first here, I ran into Risali in the middle of the night in the middle of the forest. We were both lost. I don't want that to happen again." There's a little amusement for the story, but there's some seriousness there too. "And of course, I go on a great deal of extremely heroic quests to run down someone's energy."
—
K’vir will tilt his head to mull over that bit of ‘wisdom’ shared by F’yr and eventually nods. Good point! That bit of adorableness? Noted too. Maybe that’s where the small smile comes from.. or MAYBE this beer and food is just that good! Ahem. “Then we won’t use an excuse.” Just, don’t mind him casually tossing that out there. Is he trying to set up a second date meeting? “What would you suggest that I learn, then?” K’vir is just not being fair right now, is he? As F’yr begins to list all he’s learned, he will be an avid and curious audience, showing no judgement on the experiences (or lack of experience or skill). “Dictionary would be one of the better books out there to get a grasp of it.” Practical. Logical. K’vir can understand that too well! While he’s impressed by F’yr’s signing, he doesn’t appear overly surprised by seeing it — likely familiarized with it enough by now, given a certain wingrider within Galaxy. There’s a chuckle for mention of getting lost in the forests and countering that with hiking. “Smart. I deal with enough ‘missing’ cases as it is.” They aren’t THAT high in frequency but just enough that he feels the half-joked remark has merit. More amusement, for the obvious reference for Glorioth and he only tips his bottle to that too. K’vir is very thankful that Zekath, while he has his quirks, has never demanded so much out of him as Glorioth does with F’yr.
—
There's a smile that's pleasure at the concession of not needing to invent reasons to be together, possibly even because this is a second date get-together confirmed. "I like trying new things, and I like learning. Especially things I never learned back home." Perhaps that explains his willingness to stand? No, there was more to that, but it's true enough anyway. After another sip of his beer, the younger man looks at the older with a smile that, in time, will seem to become K'vir's particular smile, as he suggests, "Maybe we can figure out some new things to learn together." That much said, he can dig into his food with a little more purpose and the talk can go on with more of the everyday things - work, home, life, things that slowly but surely bring the two who were so isolated from one another before into a harmony of building bridges that will let their lives overlap more and more comfortably as time goes on. AWWW.