That Was Some Flight (Flight Aftermath)

Guest Weyr

Rustic and simple, this cottage sits at the edge of the forest near the feeding grounds. The decor is spartan with a wide, comfortable bed and a couch, table and chairs and small kitchenette. Kept stocked with food and drink, the bed freshened with sheets and coverlets after each use by the weyrstaff, it's nothing more than a place to give riders a bit of privacy should they need it.

The sun's long gone by the time D'son comes back to himself. The stars are out and a light fog is winding its way through Xanadu, bringing with it a hint of chill in spite of the current season. Inimeth is still tight-wound around Seryth, his dreams all of joy, still simmering down from quite the flight. The re-confirmed Weyrleader swallows against a dry throat, blinks a few times and half lifts his head from the ungainly sprawl he's taken across the bed, arm reaching to find Thea.

Seryth's exuberance from her earlier free-wheeling flight has drained the young queen and left her deeply asleep and sprawled on her back within that curl of Inimeth's. Golden wings are limp, one draped loosely over the bronze, the other splayed out across the dew-drenched grass. If dragons could smile this one would be doing it, but the closest thing it comes to is a satisfied little purring sound as she exhales. Inside that guest weyr Thea is almost a copy of her lifemate. Lying on her back, utterly spent with one arm outflung (probably pushed her pillow off the bed in the process and was totally unaware of it), dark hair still damply tumbled about her face, out of it enough that the arm finding her doesn't wake her just yet, a soft curve touches her mouth and a deeper breath indicates a change in her sleep.

Pushing up onto one elbow as his hand finds Thea, D'son looks over, gaze tracing the contours of the Weyrwoman's face, that tumble of dark hair and the places where it clings to her skin. Hitching himself closer, Dels' arm curls warmly around Thea, holds there for a moment, before fingers slide upward along her skin to gently smooth her hair back. In his sleep, Inimeth nuzzles lightly at Seryth's side and D'son unconsciously mimics his dragon, lips and nose finding first the curve of Thea's throat, then the edge of her jaw, fingertips shifting to trace that soft curve of her lips.

It's like swimming from the bottom of a very deep dive into Seryth's consciousness and Thea hasn't surfaced yet. Where the dragon ends and the Weyrwoman begins is a blurred miasma of lingering emotion, tumbled and fierce as a restless sea that is just beginning to ebb to restlessness as the storm eases it's grip. Aware of that touch, but not whose it is, or yet cognizant of what has transpired, her initial reaction is a flicker of lashes, lids still heavy and a sound deep in her throat as she responds to that arm curling 'round her by reaching for the source and clinging close, the murmur she makes nearly unintelligible, "My-" the rest is lost against his neck.

D'son's breath catches in his throat as Thea clings to him and her breath warms his neck. His own awareness is clearer but bound yet to Inimeth, to those happy dreams and his deep, abiding affection and lingering desire for his queen. Hoarsely: "I'm here …" D'son murmurs, in another subconscious echo of Inimeth as green vines curl and blossom along the connection the bronze has with Seryth. His hand skims down along Thea's spine, eyes closed once more, lost in the feeling of her skin beneath his palm.

Beneath his hand Thea's back arches just slightly, could be a stretch to ease tired muscles almost, but she snuggles back into the warmth, forehead nestled back to tuck under his chin after that brief movement away. The voice is lighter than the one she expects, though not unknown to her, causing a faint twitch of puzzlement as sleep begins to fade. Is it Seryth hearing Inimeth's reassurance as they fall or-? Pop! The surface breached when the scent she inhales is not the familiar one she's used to. Eyes fly open and she's very still for a long moment, Seryth's tide still influencing her enough so that she remains melded to him until the some thought occurs to her and she's suddenly quite tense. Steeling herself, she raises her head to peer down in the semidarkness through her tumble of dark hair to make sure it's not- "D'son." If the relief in that one word isn't revealing enough, her crumpled flump back down against him is certainly telling enough. "Thank Faranth it- X'hil and K'ael -weren't- there, weren't they?" It's a 'please say no' question, really.

D'son's hand stills in the small of Thea's back and he exhales slowly as she comes to, tenses so. "Azaeth and Kinseth both chased," Dels confirms, voice still semi-broken. "I'm hazy on the rest of the details." Because he was too lost in Inimeth and her/Seryth. The arm he's been propped up on drops and sneaks beneath her, aiming to gather her up into a full hug.

"So'm I," is mumbled from somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, Thea is once again limp in the receding wave of her momentary panic, though the thought of another outcome causes her to shudder briefly in his arms. Not only does she permit that embrace, her arms, which never fully released him, return it, albeit there's a shy quality to it. With Seryth out there immersed in the affection of Inimeth and her own fierce possession of 'her' mate, Thea can't bring herself to retreat so soon this time. Silence for a few moments and then a quiet, "I'm… glad it was you." Not I'm glad it wasn't them, for surely there were others; that's par for the course.

Breath out and D'son slides a hand up to Thea's hair, stroking gently, reassuringly. "Me too," he answers, low-voiced, but less muffled, given he's talking more to the air over her head and not into skin and muscle. "Inimeth and Seryth … they're … a really good pair. Do you feel it, Thea?" he says all the more quietly, a hint of affection and wonder threading through his voice.

There's a span of silence from Thea, her breath even and regular, warm against his chest but no answer forthcoming right away. Finally she shifts her head, tilting it back on that pillow of his eyes searching his face, reading the expression as well as the vocal tone. "Yes," she admits quietly, at peace with the bond between the bronze and gold. "She's more than content with Inimeth, she's… alive and there's something new about her, about us." Her voice carries the amazement of something newly discovered, "It's rather overwhelming."

D'son's expression is relatively serene, though a certain fondness is readily legible in his eyes and he smiles down at her as she mentions Seryth's contentment. "It's …" he reaches for words, brows knitting faintly then smooth out again, "yeah. That. But … nice too," Dels says slowly. "They're happy. And we're …" he trails off again, tries out a descriptor: "comfortable."

Thea's face softens as she reads that fondness, a warm, slow smile growing, "Comfortable," she repeats, tasting the concept. "I think it's born of a profound trust of you and Inimeth, for both Seryth and I. There's something more though." Her fingers move idly without thought on the back of his neck, "She has a connection to the Weyr, a certainty of purpose, a sort of…power that she hadn't before. It's becoming mine as well." And tacked onto that, a barely-there whispered wish it could always be her choice, "My Weyrleader, my friend."

"That's /good/ Thea," D'son says sincerely, fervently almost and his arms tighten lightly around her. "Can't live in Niva's shadow forever," he adds on straightforwardly and smiles at her again. The touch of fingers at the back of his neck though, causes the sudden bob of his adam's apple, as he swallows hard and catches his breath again. "Yes," he answers with a little nod. "For as long as you'll have us as your partners," Dels promises for the first. "And always. Always friends, Thea." For the second. A moment's hesitation precedes the dip of his head forward, his mouth seeking hers, intending just the lightest brush of lips.

Profound loyalty for the aging Werywoman flashes in Thea's eyes, the almost-voiced denial dies on her lips and there's naught but a simple nod about living in Niva's shadow. She can't. She knows it. So she agrees," It is good. I will make it so." Always subject to Seryth's whim and she knows it, she can only echo, "As long as she will, I will." Her smile becomes a touch sad then as she admits with a slight catch in her voice, "Friends. I- don't have many. Not even-" No, she doesn't go there. Or perhaps that brush of his lips forestalls the completion of that thought, for the hands behind his neck tighten, fingers curling into the hair at the back of his neck as she meets that caress with what begins as a sweet sealing of a pact and ends up being a passionate response instead, perhaps the only way to express the depth of feeling over his promise. It's Seryth out there, still twined with Inimeth that shares the reaction, augmenting it unwittingly by her seeking the bronze's presence, reaching mentally for him, curling closer. Her bronze. Hers.

D'son gets lost in that response for a little while, hand tightening in Thea's hair, very much in danger of following where that kiss might lead as Seryth stakes her claim on Inimeth. It's tempting, for sure. Whatever willpower Dels has regained in the last little while though, is thrown at drawing back, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Thea … I'd better go. Don't want to. But it's probably best all around."

It's a reluctant release, Thea's eyes opening slowly, confused at first then more herself as his words sink into the haze that had reached out from the queen recedes just a little. Heat warms her cheeks as she realizes how firmly her arms are twined about his neck. Blink. Did she just-? "I… oh, yes." Cough. A chagrinned smile tugs at her mouth as she hastily withdraws her arms. "That was some flight," is all she can say with some bit of disbelief as she prepares to depart. Despite the hike cross-weyr through the cold night air that awaits her, someone is going to have his sleep interrupted whether he likes it or not. Those twins had better be sound sleepers!

"Sure was," D'son agrees, mustering a laugh and a hug for the Weyrwoman, before he rolls away to find his clothes. Dressed again, Dels pauses long enough to offer one more hug and a quiet: "See you later," then he's jogging not as far home, to likewise see if a certain someone is awake or sleeping to burn off what's left of that flight energy.

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