A Drowsy Respite

Xanadu Weyr - Purgatory
While the cottage is not large, the rooms are spacious, the place constructed with an open floor plan and designed with the young at heart. Large windows allow for light to flood the area, while inside shutters may be closed for privacy. The dragon space is slightly concave, slate laid to protect the floors from sharp claws. The rest of the flooring is polished hardwood. A simple kitchenette has a dining area, along with a breakfast nook sort of room. The living room is completed by a low, comfortable couch and a few large cushion-like pillows that when piled together make more of a nest-like seating around a small, equally low, dark wood table. Two other ground level rooms form a spacious and well furnished 'guest' room, while the other is suited more as an 'study'.

The draw for 'young ones' comes with the spiral staircase that leads to a loft bedroom, also flooded with light from the triangular window in the peak of the ceiling. Beneath that very window, rests a circular-shaped bed. Tiny pinpoints of light are embedded in the ceiling to form 'stars' when the main lights are extinguished. Encircling the spiral staircase is a slide — a fast and fun way to get back downstairs. Affixed from the stout beam that runs the length of the peaked ceiling is a thick rope swing. For those… rainy days.

Evening might be a time to wind down for most, but it's not quite the case here. Summer means longer days, warmer days and even though the sun has long since begun to set, there is still enough light outside. Some of the more nocturnal insects are out though, adding to the ambiance. Really, it would be peaceful, if there wasn't a family living at this particular weyr. And honestly? The one 'overseeing' them right now, could hardly care less how much they ran about, screeched and laughed — it meant less trouble later, when it came time to settle for the night. K'vir is out with the brood (okay, so it's only THREE right now but… listen that's a lot). The two eldest, Kyriel and Darien are the rowdiest and up to some games they likely just fabricated on the spot. As for the bronzerider himself, he's keeping somewhat of an eye on them, though he is primarily focused on the youngest, Reverie, who is only just a toddler and in need of hawkeyed supervision. She seems entertained enough with a bucket and little sand shovel, giving K'vir some reprieve to, in visible exhaustion, allow his mind to drift. The only one "lucky" enough to rest right now is Zekath, but the bronze is deserving of it — they've been kept busy for the last stretch of time. Busier, perhaps, than usual! Now the 'payment', which will likely be a day or two of rest… so long as NOTHING HAPPENS (don't you all go jinxing his mini vacation or there really WILL BE a very Sad Panda, okay?)!

Zekath is not the only one who's getting a rest. Glorioth must be since F'yr is away from the Hatching Arena, an event that occurs precious little in ratio to how much time he spends there. Not that his non-blood nieces and nephews can't visit him there (and probably have, whether or not their parents know about it, cough), but it's high time he paid them a visit in one of his precious 'him' moments. He's cleaned himself and eaten, but he's looking exhausted, run ragged in a way that hasn't been true since Glorioth's baby days. There are, of course, the necessary greetings and short bursts of playtime with the older two and then the youngest, a friendly up-nod for their keeper current caretaker somewhere in the process, but he finally breaks 'free' long enough to approach K'vir.

Unlike other moments, this greeting includes a hug. Not quite as desperate as the one after the explosion, but very real and slightly extended, if K'vir will have it. Blue eyes drift over the three again before rounding back to the other man. "Not sleeping well?" It should've been about children, or about life or some other polite thing, not observing the man's exhaustion, but F'yr's on a ticking clock here, especially if he wants to get any sleep before he's needed again, so the niceties are restricted to just that hug.

Oh, it can be assured that Kyriel and Darien have snuck to the observation levels on occasion! They’re that age, of course, and truthfully K’vir doesn’t mind them indulging in whatever curiosity or fantasies and dreams they may have — so long as they do not break rules. K’vir will look up the second the boys cries turn to one’s of exuberant greetings, a tired but very welcoming smile present for the younger bronzerider on his approach.

The greeting turned hug is welcomed and returned just as long. K’vir may even briefly press his forehead to F’yr’s, if the chance arises (and time allows). “Been a busy set of days. Summer always tends to be. Only just getting to the end of an extended stint and have the next set of days off — I hope to do nothing BUT sleep.” Listen, he deserves it, okay? EVEN IF HE’S CONVINCING HIMSELF. “You look… just as exhausted.” There might be an affectionate shove to one shoulder for that, but his features carry a concerned edge. Everything’s not okay, is it?

“Boys?” K’vir calls to them, while stepping forwards to gather up a mildly-protesting Reverie. “Time to go in.” Time for bedtime chaos routine! He turns back to F’yr, after making sure the two older kids shuffle along inside (with much muttering). Blue gaze flicks up to the younger man, silently questioning. Does he want to help? The invitation is there and will certainly guarantee they get the kids settled faster. Yet he does not pressure him and while that invitation is quietly imparted, he also murmurs a quiet: “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” There’s a nod to the porch swing or benches, but also one to the door. Indoors, outdoors… it matters not. “If you’d like.” Regardless, K’vir doesn’t intend to be preoccupied long.

"Good, you should." F'yr can get behind affirming that convincing that K'vir is doing to not-at-all-F'yr. The rest gets a rueful smile. "Have you met my dragon?" It's a joke. It explains everything though, really, even if in not so many words. He doesn't need an answer to the question because it's easy to look to the kids, to the man wrangling them and smile broadly. YES, PLEASE. F'yr grew up with too many nieces and nephews and younger cousins crowding around to pass up the chance to spend some time with the kids.

And really, on a farm as busy (and prolific) as his was, he comes with the skill-set intact. The deal making, the bribery, the hard look, the salutary grin for success with getting ready, and he'll even treat some of these small humans to a bedtime story (even if they're "too old for that stuff"). F'yr has epic bedtime stories, even if he knows to end them nice and calmly (with stars that are looking out just for each of them).

When he's done his part, whatever it is K'vir wants him to be doing to help, he's probably happier and better for it, lighter in spirit than when he arrived. Then he'll help himself to a lean on the kitchenette's counter to wait for K'vir, arms folded loosely across his chest, eyes closed, a soft hum low in his throat that seems to be just to occupy himself while he waits.

K’vir won’t answer that joke, save to huff under his breath and flash a quick half-smirk towards F’yr in amused sympathy. NO EXPLANATION NECESSARY! He does, however, look quietly pleased and welcoming to having the younger bronzerider’s eager help with the children. K’vir loves his children, but he’ll never pass up help now and again! Especially if it’s going to, in turn, offer something for F’yr. There’s clearly an unspoken amount of trust put in that gesture and how K’vir is wholly comfortable in leaving him with them too, unsupervised — he’s present at times, but for the most part he does not interfere (let’s be honest, he’s probably lurking to hear some of those epic stories too).

He may wave F’yr off at some point, letting the younger bronzerider take that moment in the kitchenette while he finishes with the last bits. Some light tidying, double checking to be sure Reverie has actually gone to sleep and isn’t pulling a toddler-esque fast one on them. When he does step into that kitchenette, it’s quiet and he will pause for a moment beside F’yr — close, his presence felt more than actual physical touch. It would take only the slightest of lean… and after a second or so, he does just that. A brush of shoulders, arm against arm, as he does not intrude, so much as offer. No rush, either, to interrupt that humming or the easy silence that may extend between them.

F'yr's eyes come up from where they've wandered after a beat, finding K'vir's face in the next beat, expression subtly softening as he looks at him. His lips tip into the slightest smile before there's that lean, and he returns the pressure: offer, accepted. He closes his eyes a moment, letting that humming (a lullabye) die away on its own. When his eyes open again it's to look over at K'vir again, head turned only slightly toward him, but also canted in some kind of silent invitation, possibly into the conversation he then initiates, low but letting the exhaustion touch his words.

"The one good thing about being on the sands is that there's so much hurry up and wait with Glorioth that just when I'm thinking my darkest thoughts, I have to let them all go and be in the moment. It's really one of his very good points, one of the ways he can be considerate and kind." Has anyone other than F'yr ever said Glorioth is kind? No, nor are they likely to because the way it comes wouldn't be seen as kindness by anyone but the man who loves him limitlessly.

"It's good, because I'm not really sure what to do about anything. Yet. The sands… that's a whole other thing. Zekath has sired before?" He might have heard, but he asks if he hasn't. It's not closing the other topic, but leading into a better one, maybe. If they need it. Or they can always come back to it, Glori-willing.

No interruption will come while that humming continues, left to drift and end on its own and unhurried. K’vir will keep a subtle watch on F’yr and the moment his head turns, he’s there to meet his gaze — he will drift a little further in too, as much as their current position allows.

“I think I can understand that,” K’vir admits in his quiet, hesitant way. Zekath is as polar opposite to Glorioth (and most dragons, really) but that doesn’t mean the bronze doesn’t have traits that test the older bronzerider. There is a light furrowing of his brow at ‘dark thoughts’ and he almost forms the question but has it slide at the last second. He’s not about to scoff either, on Glorioth being called kind by F’yr — that too is a personal line he isn’t so certain on crossing, even for a mild joke.

Thankfully, the conversation continues and K’vir can refocus on that, rather than tread any further into waters he isn’t as certain to cross quite yet. “Lots on your mind?” It’s a neutral query in the end, one that asks for only the simplest of returns: yes or no. If F’yr wishes to elaborate in any way, that is his choice and K’vir will respect it. There is a lapse of silence, then a heavy sigh. “Yes.” For a moment that is all he will say, because maybe the topic they’re shifting to is a double-edged sword. “Twice, for all his efforts in chasing.” There is a note of dry humor there, followed by a faint smirk. “He caught two different Xanadu golds — Meirath and Risabeth. Different experiences both.” Doesn’t sound like he misses either or envy F’yr’s current position.

The rueful smile comes and goes with the words, "Yes." A lot on his mind. "For later." The thing is, F'yr already has the trust in K'vir that that response will be allowed to stand. Given it's space, until he's ready to speak about it, if that day comes and K'vir's turns out to be the right ear for whatever's rolling around in that herdbeast brain of F'yr's. He pushes off the counter then, to turn and face K'vir, stepping in close. There's the smallest pause, a lift of his chin to silently ask consent before arms are slipping around the older man's low back and pulling himself into a more intimate pose. It's not, of course, the prelude to anything; the increase of contact, the ability to put his forehead against K'vir's, and relax into this not-sosimple comfort is the whole of what the younger man is seeking. "Tell me about them?" He requests, eyes closed, maybe just to listen to K'vir's voice for a few minutes while he seeks that inner balance and peace that is so elusive with all the go go go of the sands as Glorioth's lifemate.

K’vir makes a low sound and one of understanding to that ‘for later’ — and F’yr’s trust is not wrong. It’s not pushed or queried further and when the time comes, they will discuss it then; if that day comes and the older bronzerider won’t be upset if it never does. Blue eyes will track his movements and while his posture shifts, it’s only to better balance himself against the edge he’s leaning on. It is also a welcoming gesture, a silent invitation and consent given, for the younger bronzerider to step into his personal space. Those arms are guided, joined by the slide of his own around F’yr’s slightly taller (and broader, presumably) frame. Is it the most comfortable? Not really, but he’s not complaining. Forehead to forehead, the request is met with a long, heavy sigh and something close to a quiet chuckle. “Alright.” For him he’ll tell the tales of Zekath’s two clutches, speaking in his usual low, ponderous way — really, nothing more than a murmur at times. The recollection of both times are true but they are heavily edited; K’vir is careful to keep to certain points only, where he feels the shared experiences are best for now. He doesn’t touch upon the negatives (and there are plenty) because, as F’yr had said before, ‘that is for later, if ever’. Tonight, he focuses on letting the younger bronzerider know that he understands, to a degree, what is being faced while sitting as clutchsire.

It's very important to preface this pose by acknowledging that part of the reason F'yr came here with his precious freedom from the sands is because here is where he wanted to be. Here was where he could get the solace he was seeking in escape from the heat of the sands and the sometimes seemingly endless hours on sire-watch. So it's important to understand that coming here was a gesture of deep respect and caring. Whether he was coming here in hopes of seeing K'vir, or Risali, or the kids or all of the above. He came because this is where he wanted to be.

This is important to understand because some might find him starting to doze off as he stands in the circle of K'vir's arms, his head drifting from forehead to shoulder as the older bronzerider speaks, his body starting to relax, to twitch ever so slightly as the mind tries to reassure itself that it's still alive, but at least he doesn't snore? Still, F'yr as dead weight is rather impressive, and he probably presses a lot more closely to K'vir in the process of slowly losing consciousness, lulled by the sound of the bronzerider's ponderous tale telling. BUT K'VIR SHOULD IN NO WAY FEEL INSULTED, because THIS IS A COMPLIMENT of the trust F'yr has in him, NOT A REFLECTION ON HIS ABILITY TO SHARE HIS EXPERIENCES.

Was judgement expected here? Because there will be none. K’vir is amused and far from insulted, when he trails off to discover that F’yr has dozed off. It’s hard NOT to notice, given the additional dead weight added into the embrace and hold — but he braces himself. IT IS SUCH A COMPLIMENT! L I S T E N, K’vir is touched that F’yr feels safe enough to literally fall asleep while hugging him. It’s something that doesn’t even need clarifying or expanding on! He even goes as far as to gently smooth his hand and fingers (limited range, of course) in an idle, soothing, gesture where they may lay against F’yr’s back.

TWO CAN PLAY THIS GAME TOO! K’vir won’t just stand there and count the seconds — no, he’ll let his eyes drift closed too and he will rest (but not sleep) in that heavy and peaceful calm. He’s had a DAY and F’yr has had much more and has more to face in the coming days. The younger bronzerider needs this and K’vir of all people would understand, to a degree. Eventually though, the spell has to be broken and not entirely by choice. K’vir can ignore the numbness spreading from his backside, but when it starts to develop into the less-ignorable pins and needles down his legs and upper torso well… he can only take so much! “Hey,” he rumbles in a low, but firm tone, half amused. Time to wake up, F’yr! At least partially. He may try to shift, carefully, or gain the younger bronzerider’s awareness in gentle ways — no need to purposely startle him awake. “… we can move somewhere more comfortable?” What would he be suggesting? listen it’s purely innocent okay?

If F'yr were aware of the opportunity for mutual rest, he probably would be glad to have offered it. As is… there's a small sound of protest, a mumble and then a sudden tensing. It's not the closeness, nor any inadvertent startling by K'vir, but rather long habit of being awoken to spring into action to abort disaster. His breath is suddenly fast and shallow as he opens his eyes and blinks at K'vir's throat, not registering anything until he's established with a mental search that the dragon's only dangers are within the heartbreakingly gorgeous mindscape that he shares with F'yr alone — ADVENTURE is underway, but only in his dreams. A long breath blows across K'vir's throat as F'yr relaxes again and shifts, pressing his face briefly into the older man's neck and then starting to straighten up a bit under his own power, to give sleepy panda eyes to his support bronzer. "Sorry. I'm awake." He claims. "I should go back. Sleep in that— place." The place nearest the sands for clutchparents' riders, in case he's needed for a real waking. He reaches one hand up to rub his face as he manages to take more weight off K'vir. "Sorry," he mumbles behind that hand. It can't have been comfortable for K'vir, at least not completely.

There will be some guilt at the sound of protest when K’vir wakes F’yr. He’s readied for a less-than-pleased response, blue eyes watching closely as the younger bronzerider blinks awake. There’s no chuckle or teasing laughter and no quipped comment on the immediate scenario; just a quiet patience and understanding. Safety, here and now, in this space, as always! He does, however, show fleeting concern for the tension he picks up in F’yr, the way his breath is suddenly fast and shallow — but he relaxes in the same moment that he feels that press against his neck. His hold on him drops away gradually while the younger man straightens up and only when the apology comes does K’vir finally chuckle under his breath.

“Don’t be. You needed it.” So he was happy to “help” even if unexpected in the end. He will shift as well, standing up from the edge of the counter and reaching back to rub some feeling back into semi-numbed assets and lower back. don’t worry it was worth it “You’d be welcomed to crash here, you know?” K’vir is offering again blessed cinnamon roll, glancing sidelong again to F’yr with a mixed look. Concerned again, certainly, on the surface. “If ever you need to.” When that hand goes to drop from his face, K’vir will make a move to catch it, holding it firmly as he frowns lightly. “I understand.” About having to go back to that place. But? “… you sure you’re okay?” Exhaustion is one thing, but if there’s something else — K’vir won’t pry further (this time) but he was not going to let the chance pass to at least ask.

The hand caught is not protested, but rather seeking to entwine fingers as F'yr's head wobbles a little from side to side. "Working through things." This is what he comes up with to say. Somehow, even though the younger man must realize that nothing is expected from him, here, it doesn't seem enough. So he tries again. "It's… almost the same thing as after the explosion." This is slow in coming and he shifts just a little more away from K'vor to help get him a little more space from the counter, so F'yr's hands can slide back round the older man and help with the return of circulation. His hands will stay respectfully north of the assets, but he can press fingertips firmly down on either side of K'vir's spine and glide it from mid-back to just above the hips while he talks. It's a good distraction. "Like then, like this," this time on the sands, "I can't be everywhere I want to be. With the people who matter." His brows dip a little and he breathes slowly, two more words, a confession, a confidence, "It's confusing."

K’vir tilts his head and it’s evident early on into the conversation that the bronzerider is worried, but is also a touch lost — until the pieces start coming together. There is a slow breath, a longer exhale, as his hand twines with his and gently squeezes. He is patient, letting F’yr move at the pace he chooses and also for how much he desires to share — K’vir doesn’t expect himself to be a primary source to confide in. Nor does he protest F’yr’s hands moving where they do; there may be an appreciative lean or perhaps he is just balancing out his stance, now that they’re standing and not braced against edges of counter surfaces. It is definitely a distraction! Then the rest is shared and K’vir’s features soften. “You’ll run yourself ragged trying to be everywhere,” he murmurs, not to chastise but merely share another piece of experience and understanding. “Confusing?” he echoes gently, gaze drifting to meet his. He might have expected “frustrating” but not quite this confession.

How to explain. F'yr's brows furrow just a bit, his gaze meeting K'vir's, but dancing away for a moment of searching the nothing, and then back. Taking a deep breath because this is hard, not because it's hard with K'vir, just the this, he dives in. "Where I grew up… There was one model for family. One model for marriages. Everyone had the same basic design. A man and a woman, married, bred, had babies and reared them with the family unit." He purses his lips very briefly, hands still moving on the older man's back. "People didn't leave one another. People-" the hitch in his breath, the steeling of his mind as aging wounds are inadvertently brushed, "-sometimes became widowed, but once you were married, that was it. Happy, unhappy, you were still family."

One hand moves away from K'vir's back comes to rub F'yr's wrinkled brow briefly and then returns. "What I'm…" He squints at nothing above K'vir's head, "finding for myself here? Making for myself? It's not like any of that. It's…" What's the word? He finds it and something eases a he speaks it, "Dynamic. Things change. People want and need different things. I think back home, people did too, but no one ever did anything about it." There's something sad to his expression, but briefly. He shakes his head. "It's a lot to get my head around, to try to figure out… what I'm doing. What I'm not doing. What I should be doing."

K’vir will be silent while F’yr speaks, not from lack of anything to say (he has plenty going on in his head for replying) but to give the younger bronzerider the time he needs. He is content to stand and gently hold him, to support and encourage him to share without worry of judgement. Only when it seems that F’yr has reached the end of his part of the explanation, does K’vir prepare to speak up in turn. His approach is just as slow and thoughtful, a touch ponderous but his voice remains level and quiet. “I was weyrborn, but my father is holderbred and carries… as much of that outlook as he can — even now. It’s what I thought too, for awhile.” A touch of a rueful smile then, because clearly things changed over the Turns for him. “Finding that… dynamic, is probably the trickiest part. And you might be right,” he admits, with a touch of sadness to his own voice that is there and gone by the next heartbeat. “But if there’s one thing I learned is that what works for others doesn’t mean it needs to be yours too. It’s a lot to take on — but you’ll get it. It just… it takes time? And those involved, if they truly care, will be with you while you sort it out.”

"That's about what I figure." F'yr returns when K'vir's words have run their course. "It doesn't make it much better in the midst." That's wry but he smiles at the older man. "One foot in front of the other, one mistake at a time if I'm lucky." There's a beat and then he's canting his head just a little in a look of gentle inquiry as he looks at K'vir. "How are we doing so far?" It doesn't hurt to ask does it? More specifically, he means, "Anything here," his hands shift to join a moment behind K'vir's lower back and snug a little to indicate things between them before the resume the low key massage, "That I'm doing or not doing or should be doing?" That's a little wry, but he is listening if K'vir has any feedback to provide him on their particular connection. "Whatever this is." That's added softly to make sure it's still clear that he's not defining this, whatever it is. It just is. The question of the moment is… whether or not this is still okay or if he should be doing something differently.

K’vir offers a quiet, if slightly dry, chuckle. “No, it doesn’t.” Make it better, but usually little will when caught up in the ‘middle’. He smiles back, slightly crooked and on the verge of a smirk. “That’s about all you can do.” he agrees, speaking more from experience here as well. One step at a time! There’s a quiet lapse of silence between them — the question wasn’t wrong, but the older bronzerider is taking his time (as always) to gather his thoughts and speak slowly. He will lean into that continued touch, drawing F’yr closer in the process and… if they happen to sway just a tiny, infinitesimal amount, it’s HABIT, okay? Completely habit. “You have nothing to worry about with this, with us,” he reassures, lifting his gaze after thoughtfully pondering his answer to meet F’yr’s. The ‘us’ likely reflects them here, just the two of them — he will not speak for Risali, though he assumes all is well or he’d have picked up on something awry. “You’ve been respectful. If something changes in this, you will know — and I suppose the same would apply to me. I would hope you tell me, honestly, if something is wrong.” He doesn’t gesture between them, but it’s implied heavily enough. “Mistakes can and will happen,” K’vir goes on to add with a wry smirk and another moment of leaning in to touch forehead to forehead. “It’s how you go about trying to correct them that’s the key — an often the hardest part.” Not to add more stress onto F’yr, however unintentionally, but he felt the need to share that knowledge from his experiences too. Why sugar coat? “I made more than a few myself. Some far worse than others.”

If there needs to be swaying, F'yr will roll with it. How many serious conversations has he had doing at least that much if not more? At least he doesn't here, now, with his exhaustion, turn it into more of a dance. "I will." F'yr can honestly assure he will, in turn, share if something arises… if he can recognize it. Not ominous at all. "When this is all over," the sands, he means, "Let's go riding. Runners." It's sort of a whim. Not that it hasn't been floating in the back of the bronzerider's herdbeast brain pastures, but now the thought is voiced, it's voiced in a tone of quiet cajoling, with a smile the quirks into something warm, charming. "Please?"

Even if it had turned into a dance, K'vir might not have noticed right away. This, at least, for now, appears to be enough. He holds no expectations to F'yr, no lofty placing upon some high pedestal where the young bronzerider is certain to disappoint. Mistakes happen and K'vir can forgive — and quite a lot, at that (have you met his weyrmate? RIP Kyzen)! Turns ago, it would have been a vastly different story and they certainly would not be here like this. At that smile with warmth and charm, K'vir can't help but laugh a little, a brief and quietly warm thing of its own. "Don't have to ask me twice," he muses, drawing him into a brief hug. DONE DEAL! Then he's stepping back, just a little, though still within F'yr's personal space. "We'll go. Once those eggs hatch and things settle from that, we'll go." Promise.

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