Xanadu Weyr - Queens' Ledges
A massive ledge runs along the east facing cliff wall, a good half dozen dragon heights above the floor of the clearing. High indeed — the steps down are long — but that does mean there is plenty of space for even the largest dragon to take off lazily without risk of being too close to the ground. Lengthwise, it stretches more than long enough for every gold and bronze dragon in Xanadu to fit although there is comfortable sunning room, with plenty of personal territory, for a Weyr's worth of golds and their mates. A total of five massive tunnels are visible, leading away from the ledge. Each is curved ingeniously to deflect the winds although it is plain that not all are in use at the moment.
Faranth help the Weyr. With tensions already on the rise, nasty notes being sent to Fort by an angry Weyrwoman, and none other than the ousted Xanadu gold the new Senior at Ista, Kilaueth is starting to glow. Over the past sevenday or so, its become more and more noticeable, though thankfully there have been no crazy outbursts from the Senior. However, now she's busy pacing the Queen's ledges, irritation spreading to her lifemate, the large gold having claimed the top of the Weyr cliff to watch her domain.
If R'sul could choose to be anywhere just now, here would not be it. In fact the slow pace that brings him towards the queen's ledges has faltered several times over as he thinks and rethinks this mission. Maybe it's not enough to bother her with. Fingers tighten around the message in his hand, maybe he could just dump it and run. A nod, plan decided, up he goes. Slowly, slowly.
With Kilaueth perched, Niva is turning to look upwards now and then, grumbling at the gold, and resuming her pacing. Now and then, she ducks inside her Weyr, returning to the fresh air after only a short moment. Unable to settle, its as she's reemerging one of these times that her gaze lands on poor R'sul, and she smirks a little, pausing at the top of the stairs to look down expectantly, folding her arms as she waits.
R'sul's last glance up was during one of those no-Niva moments, poor fool. Up he goes, slowly, quietly, concentrating on his feet instead of where he's going. Nearly at the top he reaches out, only looking up when he encounters a barrier. A Niva shaped barrier to his drop and run plan. "Niva! Hi!" That look? Pure panic. "You look lovely today."
Niva leaves her arms folded infront of her, holding the top step to ensure that she can continue to look down on R'sul, keeping him on the steps. "Hello, Weyrleader.." She says with a sickeningly sweet tone, a fake-smile plastered on her face. "You look like you just saw something horrible.." She says without batting an eye, holding out a hand expectantly.
The note suddenly seems the worst thing possible, "No. No not at al. Ran into Vivian on the way over. Ha!" His fake laugh is overly fake. "So.. um… hi, and you're here, and… that's good. Good. Because… I was thinking that perhaps we needed to have some sort of celebration because of the clocktower, a gather maybe, and it shoiuld be fun right because people need fun and Hisolda quit."
Niva continues to smirk at R'sul as he rambles, still holding her hand out, expecting the message to be delivered. And then, there's a pause after his last words, and she's taking a step back, surrendering the top stair. "She *what?!*" Niva cries out, anger quite evident on her face. "What did you do!" She demands loudly, echoed by a trumpet from Kilaueth on the cliff overhead.
R'sul cowers slightly, naturally he'd assumed if he tacked it on at the end like that she might not have realised what he'd said. "I didn't do anything!" Up the steps, letter held out, "She thinks she's too old, wants to concentrate on other things. She's gone to her sister's for a couple of days to think about it." His look now - please don't kill me.
"You had to have said something. Suggested that she rest, or take it easy. Something *you* didn't think would matter, but that offended her." Niva snaps, though as he takes those last few steps, she's stuttering a bit, losing her advantage, and stuck on even ground with him. The letter is snatched angrily from his hand as she glares at him, apparently contemplating flinging it right back in her face, but logic wins out and she's slowly tilting her head to read it.
"I swear Niva, I didn't." R'sul replies, finally standing up for himself a little, "She dropped that off, didn't think I was in the office. /I/ talked her out of not coming back! She's not happy Niva, it happens. And I know Kilaueth's out of sorts just now and so are you, but it's not my fault. Not /everything/ is my fault!"
Niva is thrown even more off-kilter as R'sul stands up for himself, taking a step back as she narrows her gaze at him. "Fine, you can interview the replacements, since you took her resignation. *I* wouldn't have let her go." At least, Niva is convinced of such, though its likely she's the source of Hisolda's displeasure. Tossing R'sul another dirty look, the letter is thrust back at him, as she turns and slowly begins to pace.
R'sul is quiet for a moment, metaphorically biting his tongue, "And that right there is the problem. You wouldn't have. And no, I won't interview anyone because when she does come back /I/ intend on talking her into staying back. People need a break now and then Niva! When was the last time you took some time away, just you and C'ian?"
Niva whirls back on R'sul, face bunching up as she glares at him, the fact that she's thinking clearly evident on her face, pondering what poisonous words to inflict upon him. But then, she seems to be lost, throwing her hands up in the air, shaking her head, shaking her head. "Sharding right you'll talk her into staying." And then, hands fold over her chest, and she shakes her head. "Can't." Is all she snaps.
"Why not?" R'sul clearly isn't going to let this drop yet. "Why. Not. This…" he waves the letter at her, "This is just another thing that says you need to. You're pushing yourself too hard, and at the same time you're pushing everyone else too hard. We're messing up Niva. /We/ are. because everyone's too pissy to think straight."
"Cause I *can't*." Niva snaps again, ignoring the waving letter. "I didn't do anything wrong. Just become some brat thinks she can tell me what I can and can't do.." Her tone is sharp and bitter at the mention of the Fortian Weyrwoman. "We've not messed up, R'sul. Prove to me we've messed up." She snaps at him, finally snatching the letter back out of his hand to cease the waving.
R'sul can prove it with one word. "Kate." Or how about two. "Ysa."
Niva balls up the letter, flinging it back in his face. "You didn't have a word to say about Kate until it was too late. Don't even *dare* tell me I messed up." And then at the mention of Ysa, Niva's storming back down the ledge away from him. "Ysa can ruin some other Weyr."
"/We/ messed up Niva." R'sul throws the comment straight back at her, despite the letter bouncing off his face, "Not you. /Us/." He follows, unable to back down on this one, "I got taken in just as much as you did, so don't you dare say I wasn't with you every step of the way because I have been. Even when you're managing to out brat your daughter."
"No one would have known, R'sul. It only counts as a mistake if you know its going to be bad." Niva is pacing along the ledge of the Queen's Weyrs, while Kilaueth is perched on the cliff overhead, becoming more and more agitated by the moment. Of course, as R'sul calls her a brat, its all she can do to not scream in his face, only further proving his point.
"Niva." Quieter this time, despite the fact that R'sul is unnaturally riled, "We could have been more careful. Should have been. With both of them. With this whole thing. You're good Niva, you really are, but… too much. Hisolda needs a break. You need a break. Shells, I need a break! You honestly think I like it when people ask me if /you/ need to see a mindhealer?"
R'miel heads over to the Queen's Ledges. What the bronzer is doing at Xanadu can only be guessed, but the paperwork tucked under his arm could be a guess. "Hello?" He calls on his entrance. "Sul, you here?" Not a very safe place to be, this was. In fact, R'miel hadn't touched the Xanadu soil since him and Ysa left in a hurry. But here he is, unaware of course that the senior's dragon was all proddy.
"I don't need a mindhealer." Niva snaps at R'sul, and while her voice is more controlled this time, that hardly means that its safe. For, as there's the sound of a once-familiar bronzerider's voice, there's also the loud trumpet from the cliff overhead, and Niva's fury has become an eruption in her lifemate, the gold disappearing to the feeding grounds to reap vengence, even as Niva turns to smirk at R'sul. "Look what you did.."
Kilaueth is quick to the feeding grounds, trumpeting loudly as the Senior gold scatters the herds - her herds, sending the beasts fleeing before her massive wings. And yet, they are unable to escape completely as she topples the first beach, dropping her muzzle to hurriedly drain it, even as fire-licked eyes are lifted as she trumpets, calling the males to the grounds, setting herself on another beast.
R'sul is very much here, mid yelling match with Niva in fact. The expletive that he utters is far from polite, aimed more at Kilaueth than at R'miel or Niva. "What I did? Sure. All my fault, as usual." He bites down on further comment, turning as if to leave and then spotting R'miel. "Ram. You… might want to leave." Unintentionally harsh, perhaps.
As Kilaueth takes off and lets out that call, a foreign bronze down below looks up and takes notice. His rider … not so much with the being around. D'son had an errand to run and is hopelessly lost in the maze of cots that house most of the Weyr's residents. Inimeth though? Well, he's been chatting it up with the other dragons hanging around and perfectly happy to do it, all friendly and social. Glowing gold is a big old distraction and one that the young bronze just can't ignore. So what that she's the Senior's gold. Not really registering on Inimeth's radar. Not heard from here is Dels' cry of protest as he now tries to find his way back to where he left his dragon. A cry of protest that sounds an awful lot like a cuss word.
R'miel blinks a bit at the warring weyrleaders. Then holds out the papers to R'sul. "I found these. They belong here. Orders or something, I'm not sure." Once he heads in, he looks between the two of them suspiciously. Then blinks at R'sul. "Might want to… Oh shards, no. No no. Noo no no. Oh shards. Arin! Son of a…" He kicks his foot at the air, then searches his pockets for his flask.
Hesketh answers his queen's call, appearing over the feeding pens and diving down to dispatch his first beast with one quick movement. His croon to her is low, possessive, a promise that he will not leave her side. Wings flick in and out, flexing and settling over and over as he drains this kill and moves on to his second, eyes never leaving the fair maiden that he covets so.
Arinith likes to be where the dragons are! Especially since some of them were somewhat familiar to him. Of course a shining queen will always get his attention, senior or not. He knows Kilaueth, he's chased her before. Big, majestic. And he hasn't rightly chased in a while, so it's off to the feeding grounds with him a bit of a bugle announcing his arrival. One swoop around and he lashes out at a nice big bull, draining it quickly and then felling another in rapid succession.
"Oh, no.. You think you're leaving, but you're not." Niva smirks at R'sul as he turns, reaching to snag the back of his jacket, even as she gives R'miel a look that is far too sweet. "You either… Lets see what that woman of yours thinks when she finds out." Faranth help her, when this is all over. As Kilaueth settles to blood, Niva only smirks, and releases R'sul to begin pacing again.
Inimeth was busily chatting up the locals but hey, there goes Kilaueth trumpeting that challenge and lickety split, he's over into the feeding grounds after a momentary glide to figure out where everyone else is going. The young bronze sort of bounces a little in the air, apparently quite excited by the prospect of giving chase. Whoosh. He zooms into the pens to chase down a beast of his own and deals with the whole messy messy blooding thing with relish but fairly quickly and neatly.
"Not now, Ram." R'sul waves a hand at the papers, but is caught by Niva and forced to stop or rip his favourite jacket. "Niva." It's half warning, half resigned capitulation. A sympathetic look is shot to R'miel, but R'sul isn't going anywhere now. The little bit of him that's Hesketh slowly asserting control.
R'miel eyes Niva like 'o.o' and starts to back away from her. Scary! The bronzer drops the paperwork… someplace. It's not the floor, but who can tell exactly. "My woman?" Faranth help Ram when Ysa finds out he was here. With her. During a flight. Things would be thrown. Ram doesn't catch poor R'sul's look. He's trying to concentrate enough to plan an escape, but it's just not happening. He can't get his legs to move anymore, and he's not near enough to the exit.
Kilaueth topples a third beast in quick succession, the large gold draining it without a moment of hesitation, quite familiar with the pressure placed on her by her lifemate, and determined to do the best by the Weyr - her Weyr. And so, after each of the males - familiar and non - are watched, a trumpet echoes through the Weyr, and with a powerful downstroke of ash-spotted wings, her fire-licked form takes off, shooting skywards and urging the males to join her in the chase.
Still no sign of D'son. He's gotten his foot tangled up in a root and fallen over and is currently cussing up at the sky some more while Inimeth carries on merrily.
The sandy brown wings of Nyeth spasm across the length of his back, as if itchy hands eager to reach for the sky. His movements are restrained, brown body hunched down far from the herds at the edge of the enclosure. Lust colours his fast-moving eyes, every movement of the glowing queen captured within the swirling depths. As she slaughters, he warbles soft encouragements. Oblivious to the other sets of eyes on the glittering prize, he waits like a coiled spring. The moment the Queen takes skyward, his wings crack open and scarcely a breath is wasted before he lunges upwards in hot pursuit.
Hesketh drains a second beast, hesitating before taking down a third that remains mostly untouched as he watches. Watches and waits. His wings flick out one last time, this one accompanied by a run as he launches after Kilaueth. His voice rings true, a bugle call that signals pursuit as he powers higher.
Inimeth only had time for two beasties in the end, but he leaps eagerly into the sky with a relative lack of concern. He has a fire-hued queen to pursue, mind extending with bright green tendrils to find Kilaueth, introduce himself even if it's only through the fleeting sense of intense, sun-dappeled lavender and the seductive curl of a long vine. Off they go and his wings are spreading wide to find both speed and height.
Arinith never really thought about the pressure exerted on a queen by the rest of the weyr. It's unlikely he'd really have the brain capacity to realize how important a queen's flight and eventual choice of suitors was. When she finally decides to rise, Arinith tears his jaws from the current beast he's draining, taking a bit of flesh with him. He'll try to lick his teeth clean on the ascent. It doesn't take much effort from the slender bronze to get airborn, though once he is he put all his effort into flapping those wings of his. Up and up, rising after the ball of fire before them.
Niva spirals to smirk back at the poor male riders, first at R'sul, then at R'miel, stalking closer to snatch at R'miel's flask, the smile on her face the thanks that he gets for his sacrifice. And again, she paces the ledge, looking down and then towards the feeding grounds, smile widening as she sees the golden form of Kilaueth shoot upwards.
R'sul lets out another sigh, shaking his head a little at Niva's smirk. "Here we go again." He doesn't need to look to see when Hesketh heads skywards, he can hear. He can feel.
Kinseth has been here the whole time, really, the bronze unnaturally quiet, for himself, as if undergoing an intense internal struggle, a battle of wills. He seems to have won for now, as he's drained two beasts dry and is picking out a third when Kilaueth rises. Two will have to do, as the large bronze flexes his wings, then crouches and leaps into the air, with a roar of defiance as he breaks through another internal hurdle. Fly, fly, be free in the sky!
Kilaueth continues to lead them on a chase, shooting every upwards, each wingstroke of oversized sails carrying her higher and higher. As a brown joins the chase, she rumbles, a bit surprised as she sneaks her head back for the briefest of looks. Eventually she levels off, turning towards the Sea of Azov, stretching her wings as she flees over the inland sea, a trumpet as the lava flow moves on, hardly at a snail's pace.
And so it is, that D'son finally makes it to the right ledge, with grass-stained knees, old leaves caught in his hair and a rather flushed face after having to stop to ask for directions that he could barely stammer out because, hello, flight going on and half his brain is already wrapped up in his dragon. There's still the steps up to contend with and bad luck continues to dog the young bronzerider. The last one catches his toe and his entry is therefore, far from dignified as he sort of run-steps, arms windmilling to catch himself. A wall. He needs a wall. Stone. Stone is good and Dels holds on for a moment, mumbling something about Ista's duties and hello, sir, sir, sir, ma'am.
Hesketh aims higher still than Kilaueth, his tested and true formula for ensuring his queen stays safe. As she levels he climbs, angling sharply to follow her movements at the same time. Neck strains forwards, aiming for just a little more speed, a little less drag because of size, and in the end he drops just a touch out of that annoying wind that dares to interrupt his quest.
R'miel grunts when Niva takes his flask. Now he'll have to steal it back or get a new one. Then he moves off to a corner to stand by himself and look ominous. "Same old same old." He peers at the entrance of D'son. He'd forgotten to be polite on his own entrance, though it was mostly because this felt more like home still than Ista.
A jealous claxon rings from brown Nyeth's throat, the smaller male outpaced by larger bronzen bodies in the first few instants of flight. Tawny wingspan shudders with the thermals as he banks to follow the firelit temptation from below, wings stretched to the fullest, the brown's forepaws extended forward as if some highdiver cutting through a current. The rising gold sun is all he sees, even as bronze bodies sail alongside and past his altitude.
Luckily for R'sul, the smirk in his general direction is short lived, for D'son's stumbling in, and the portion of the Weyrwoman's mind is with her fleeing lifemate, the part that's not quickly fading into oblivion. "Boy.." She snaps at the poor young, bedraggled bronzerider as he stumbles against the wall, pushing the flask back at R'miel before the former Xanadu rider can retreat. And so, she moves to hover in the entranceway to her ledge, waiting.
Inimeth wants and needs more speed and it's this that he focuses on building, body streamlining as he sails after Kilaueth. The winds are unfamiliar, the pack too, Arinith is too new to him at Ista for him to be a known quantity and as he pulls in a little tighter, Inimeth takes the measure of the pack, zig-zags to and fro and aims for a little more lift so he's higher up in the chase rather than low. Polished bronze wings stretch wide and now it's all about finding the right current to help carry him along after the fire-born queen.
Arinith catches the look back from Kilaueth. That's all the motivation he needs really, the thought that she'd be choosing one of them. There's a tremendous trumpet from such a small bronze, and he tries to make a push to get up close to her, though he's blocked by one of the larger bronzes. As they level off he stays a big higher and towards the back of the pack, where he could still watch her but not be too much into the way. His muscles straining against the thermals.
R'sul's head snaps round to look at D'son, but his attention can't linger there for long - just enough to register his presence before Niva is his focus again. Niva that he was shouting at so recently, but now maybe isn't so bad.
Kilaueth continues the quick pace, large wingsails allowing her to easily outdistance many of the males, familiar with the thermals and currents that flow in the area, though she makes no move to rely upon their help. Rising, dropping, noticing those males who continue to pursue her, she puts them through their paces, testing them. Another stolen glance reveals the group has started to thin, and yet many still are presence, joustling for position.
Stunned, addled and battered as he is, D'son lifts his chin a little, meets Niva's gaze straight on and clears his throat. "Weyrwoman," is all he says though as he lets the wall take his weight and his lungs a few shudderingly deep breaths, then applies himself to the by now largely futile task of hauling his bronze /out/ of the flight.
Like some deep-sea predator, Nyeth's body cuts through the wind beneath the golden comet's wake. His fast-swirling eyes cast upwards, attention dominated by Kilaueth's every moment above and ahread. In-between wingbeats, his panting voice affords intermittant bugles of admiration. Nimbly, the smallest male dodges castoff currents and bodies alike, but it's clear the pace is begining to wear on him. His lovecalls come less loudly, all efforts made to keep pace with the pack.
Kinseth starts of in slow and steady flight, a calculated move to keep that burst of energy for later on in the flight. It all comes to nothing though when the bronze notices the increasingly widening gap between himself and Kilaueth. This won't do! He sweeps his wings down faster, and faster, desperately trying to at least close the gap a little. He manages to get nearer, for now focusing on straight flight, only rising and dropping if the wind takes him. He does attempt to utilise the thermals and air currents, not too proud to take help where he needs it.
Inimeth swings left and right to avoid first then second of two dragons who're dropping out. And aha, there, a current, a fast-moving one too and Inimeth dives for it, wings angled to let it /push/ him along, right past several of the others in pursuit of Kilaueth. Did she see that? Wasn't that neat? And yet, Inimeth bobbles just a little in place, likely under the influence of a desperate D'son going: GET YOUR SHINY BUTT BACK ON THE GROUND NOW. Rallying, Inimeth gives the air another push with his wings and ducks under a darker-hued, older dragon, drawn inexorably towards the queen.
X'hil comes over to the ledges at a quick pace, muttering something about stubborn dragons. There are also more than a few curse words sprinkled in there. It seems he didn't accept that Kinseth was chasing until near the last minute. He spots Niva, and R'sul, R'miel, D'son, but Niva is his focus. But… from a distance. He keeps beyond the other chasers, suddenly quiet.
Hesketh powers on, tail arrow straight behind him now as the chase continues. In his mind is one thought « Mine! ». His queen. A glance is cast around, wasting precious seconds he then has to work to regain. But regain he does, slowly closing the gap between himself and Kilaueth.
Arinith hasn't been at Xanadu in a while. He's forgotten most of the intricacies of the weyr's skies. Instead he just relies on his instinct, which allows him to keep up with the rest of the pack. He's no slouch when it comes to flying, his small form makes him more nimble than the bigger males, but still more powerful than the browns. So he presses on, trying to maneuver himself into a nice close spot amongst the other males.
Kilaueth is overconfident, certainly, the gold long used to leading the males on a merry chase. Dropping a shoulder, the gold beings to bank, turning to lead them back towards the land, back towards the distance shore of the Sea of Azov. And yet, the thermals that flow over the water betray even those who claim the territory as their own. Suddenly finding herself fighting the air rather than moving with it, her rhythm is disrupted, and her progress ceases. And, for a moment, there is a glimmer of hope as a dark-hued bronze drops to the ground, wings fouled by the same winds. But the window for freedom suddenly closes, as the large, fire-riddled gold finds herself fouled with the young Istan bronze Inimeth, trumpeting in surprise.
Inimeth is all youthful glee as he winds around Xanadu's queen, burnished bronze melding with fire-laced gold and the keen joyfulness of his mind is broadcast rather loudly. There's no mindfulness of repercussions in Inimeth, he's simply delighted to be making her very intimate acquaintance as he showers her with compliments about how well she flew and how wonderful it's all going to be.
Niva's attention, settled mostly on R'sul despite their earlier argument, darts now and then to the other males, taking a few slow steps back into her weyr. And yet, it seems evident that Kilaueth has been snagged, there's a gasp of surprise, the woman standing, shocked, even as the rest of her thoughts disappate, lost to Kilaueth's emotions.
Arinith is even surprised at Kilaueth's choice. The smaller bronze nearly crashes into Hesketh. After all, his rider keeps telling him not to be disappointed when R'sul's bronze is scooped up again, he's not expecting him to still be there once the queen moves off. He dips down and around, falling away back towards the weyr proper.
Kinseth swerves to avoid the same thermal that ensnares Kilaueth, but, as he regroups, another takes advantage of the gold's difficulties. There's a disappointed croon, naturally, but the bronze doesn't seem /too/ upset, spiralling lazily down and heading back towards land. He's moving much more smoothly now, it would seem his inner conflict - conflict with his rider, no doubt - has been resolved.
Nyeth's braying bugle of dispair is poingent, spun wing over wing as he dodges beneath another suitor struggling to bank with the firelit Queen. Eventually he restores equillibrium, perpendicular once more with the rushing scenery below… only to see his target and prize fouled in the wings of another Bronze beast. Dispair colours his swirling stare, and with a veritable whimper his pace decreaces and altitude drops, to limp back to the weyr.
Fist-to-wall, fist-to-wall, D'son has his eyes squeezed closed and is still mumbling under his breath, probably some mantra to Inimeth to try to get him down and then … well, his jaw goes slack and his eyes fly open, as wide with shock as the Weyrwoman's. A moment later though the last vestiges of sense leave him and he lurches away from the wall and after Niva, hands to shoulders to pull her to him. Consequences … will have to wait until later.
R'miel just… blinks. He stares between R'sul and Niva in disbelief for a few moments, then runs over to grab his flask and takes off. Wow, he's got some gossip there! Plus he needs to go back and face the music of his weyrmate. Hopefully she wouldn't be /too/ angry.
R'sul's yell of "NO!" is echoed by a howl of anger an upset from Hesketh. Despite everything he takes a step towards Niva, brain still screaming 'mine' even as the world shifts around him. Dizzy, angry, he stumbles towards the stairs and freedom. The freedom he craved for ao long and now he finds he doesn't want.
Hesketh roars as someone else dares /Dares/ to take his queen. « Mine! » As Arinith crashes into him it barely registers the former weyrleader bronze wheeling away. Just… away.
Kilaueth can only trumpet again as the others drop off, before she's twining neck and tail with the young bronze - consequences be darned - soaring to new heights with the young suitor, and the new Weyrleader's lifemate.
Player D'son added to Xanadu Weyr's user list.
X'hil winces at R'sul's yell, and stumbles backwards, as if /he/ were somehow to blame. At the moment, he's running purely on instinct. There's a pause as he watches the man leave, waiting several moments before following, scowling to himself. He's /relieved/ that Kinseth lost, but losing isn't exactly fun.
Niva reacts without thinking to D'son, turning and dragging him into the weyr - though Faranth help him when they come back to their senses.
Nyeth casts a final glance over winged shoulder, the coiled pair of Bronze and Gold almost lost in the distance as he spirals down to the Weyr bowl. Resigned to seek solice from his lifemate and rider, the Brown trumpets to the watchdragon, before dodging into the maw of his own private weyr.
Xanadu Weyr - Kilaueth and Alhenaeth's Ledge
Large screens of a rich maroon hue have been set up, shielding the weyr from rebel winds, adding a sense of privacy from ledge visitors. Thick rugs of the same color are scattered about, corners pinned down by the dark wood desk, the matching dresser, the overstuffed sofa, and the wide bed. Maroon linens clad the thick mattress, interrupted by multitudes of deep navy pillows. Various volumes are scattered over the desk and shelves, while clothes are thrown haphazardly over the furniture.
With Kilaueth and Inimeth having finally come to land somewhere away from the Weyr, the gold's effect on her rider is slowly beginning to wear off - which is rather unfortunate, all things considered. And so, shifting and pulling the sheets back to her, Niva is slowly stirring, still surprisingly calm, the change of the status quo not having yet registered.
Sprawled across the bed, D'son is a little slower to regain his senses. Inimeth's never won a gold flight before and it's a lot more mind bending than winning a green's. He dozed off in the immediate aftermath, shaking like a leaf, one arm stretched across the Weyrwoman. Now though, she's stirring, moving the sheets and Dels' eyes open slowly, register his surroundings. Oh right. Xanadu. That errand he said he really had to get done today. The one he ran off to to take care of so he could get back to the woman he left behind all the more quickly. Well now. That's a promise he won't be keeping, is it? Limbs gather and D'son pushes upright, chest lifting off the bed and knees drawing upward so he's sitting with them folded beneath him to find the Weyrwoman's shape and then her face, hazel eyes serious in his. Echoing himself from earlier, he musters a raspy, thirsty voice to say simply: "Weyrwoman."
Niva would have been content enough to lay there, not moving, pulling the sheets a little closer. But then, the other body in the bed is moving as well, and sitting up, beginning to pull the sheets with him. Even then, however, she remains relatively calm - the greeting doing her in. Finally lifting her head to stare, her jaw drops and she gasps, shrieking a little. "You're not R'sul!" She yelps, pulling the sheets closer - seems she did have some preference for the bronzerider even if she'd never admit it. "You.." And the words are lost as she just stammers, staring. "Weyrleader." She hisses at him, even as she's shifting to push him out of bed.
D'son winces a little for that shriek and takes a deep breath, starts to open his mouth to say something, some kind of explanation but then she's moving to push and his hands lift to catch at her wrists. "Whoa," he says, startled and his brows drawn down together. "Slow down there. Yeah, no, not R'sul. Hi there, D'son, bronze Inimeth's. Nice to meet you to," he says a little heatedly, swallows hard. Weyrleader. She said Weyrleader. Dels swallows again. "Shit," he follows up with and squeezes his eyes closed for a moment. "Just … don't push, okay? I'm getting up. Just … no idea where the hell my pants are."
Niva narrows her gaze as her wrists are snagged, nose wrinkled as she sneers at him. "Out.." She whispers, even as she's tugging her wrists free, shaking her head and pulling the sheets around her completely. "There are time for introductions later. I know you're an Istan. I just hope you aren't as bad as the rest of them." She mutters, taking the sheets with her as she retreats behind a screen to hurriedly get dressed, peering around the edge at him. "I could be your *mother*." She says sharply - clearly *that* is the issue.
D'son lets go once it seems like she's going to stop shoving at him anyway, then turns around politely as she retreats to that screen. Both hands lift to push through his hair, fingers tugging for a moment or two as he gets his bearings, looks around for garments. Oh there. Undies. Yay. He gets up, goes for those hastily and first. It's a modicum of decency at least. "So because I'm Istan, I'm no good, is that it?" D'son asks as he finds his shirt, slings that on and backtracks towards the weyr's entryway to pursue the trail of clothing that leads inward. Pants go back on and darnit, one sock is still missing, but he just puts the one he's found in his pocket and shoves bare feet into his unlaced boots. Back a few steps he goes, though he doesn't look towards the screen. "Are you? Don't seem like it," Dels blurts out and then thuds his head back against the wall. Not. A good. Start. He clears his throat again, takes a breath. "Look, I admit, I'm young, I'm not sure how the hell this is supposed to work. But I promise, I'll do my best until she rises again and you can kick me out. Until then though, mind telling me what the first step is here, other than y'know, getting to know a hell of a lot of new people, really really fast."
"No, because you're Istan, I don't have expectations for you to live up to." Other than being a womanizing jerk, of course. After another moment to compose herself, shaking her head, she moves back into the weyr proper, dumping the sheets on the end of the bed unceremoniously, before D'son's questions have her mind actually settling on the scale of the situation. Hands resting on her hips and she takes a breath, closing her eyes as she begins to pace. "The office is off the cavern. R'sul.. R'sul was good about his notes. His files. You.. should find what you need to there." She comments eventually, turning to look at him. "The headwoman quit. You can talk her into staying when she gets back, since R'sul isn't here to do it anymore." And then, pausing in her pacing, she pauses to take another deep breath, and a shake of her head, pushing hair back from her face, almost at as much as a loss for what to do as he is.
D'son leans against the wall still, watching Niva pace and he nods. "Okay. Notes. Notes I can do." His brows lift a little though about the Headwoman. "Is that uh … the usual here? The Weyrleader talking the Headwoman into things or not? Just so I know. You know, about who does what. Otherwise, maybe for tonight, I just get out of your hair, go pack my stuff, say good-bye to my weyrmate and explain myself to Ista." Dels pushes away from the wall then, takes a step closer to the Weyrwoman, halts just shy of her, hands in pockets, though he's forgotten to do his shirt up. "I guess there's a bright side to not having any expectations to live up to. Maybe I'll surprise you in a good way." And his chin goes up there, set in a stubborn line.
"I… I'll try and get stuff sorted." Niva adds after a moment, pausing to look back at him again. "He let her take a vacation, and said that he'd make sure she stayed on. You can ask him, if you have questions, unless the coward takes off." Her frustration at the situation has now been directed at the absent R'sul instead. At his offer, she nods, waving her hand as if to shoo him off, already turning to retreat to a hot shower. And then, he's steping closer, and she pauses, shaking her head. "All you can do is go up." She comments evenly, before she's shooing him again. "Go." She says plainly, not even waiting for him to leave before she's retreating.
"Understood. I'll — track him down," D'son says with a little frown, then re-focuses on her, starts to lift his hands up to her shoulders again. "I /will/ do my best," he promises and there's determination on his face along with naked fear. A nod follows and he does crumble just a little, if only in the expression on his face.. "Yes ma'am," he replies and turns to go. "I'll — be back in the morning. Please let me know where I'm supposed to sleep."
"I'll have Hisolda clean out a weyr." She calls over her shoulder, not even thinking that the Headwoman has so annoying taken a vacation. "It'll be in the meadow. Or.. something." She comments, leaving it open, before she pauses to look back at him as he disappears. "You'll have a lot of work, Weyrleader." She comments, letting the conversation drop.
Over his shoulder, simply, maybe even bravely, though he looks awfully young and vulnerable: "I know," D'son says steadily back, then he swings out of view hastily and takes the steps back down two at a time. It's at the bottom of them that he stops and sits, puts his face in his hands and starts to shake, murmuring under his breath. "Ohshitohshitohshitohshit." He also didn't count on Inimeth being completely enamored with Kilaueth, and not anywhere /near/ the Weyr. This means another extensive amount of time spent trying to wheedle the bronze back. Finally though, he obliges. « I'll be back soon, my queen! I promise! » Gallant Inimeth at least as he wings off to find his rider and carry them both to a home that shortly won't be theirs anymore.
Niva retreats to the shower as D'son excuses himself, and then to her office, unwilling to face the consequences, even as she discovers a hasty note from R'sul. As a touch to Kilaueth's mind reveals that the bronze and his rider are still present, she remains lurking, until eventually they depart, and she attempts to get things back to some semblance of normal.