Treehouse Picnics

Xanadu Weyr - Forest
The trees grow thickly here, avians nesting in their branches and flitting about after insects. Flowers sprout up and speckle the ground between, the green of small plants and their blooms of bright saffron and cheeky rose that creep all the way up to the bases of the trees and adorn the fallen leaves and mulch of the forest floor. Those trees rise upward in their aged magnificence, gargantuan limbs casting often welcome shade, the general atmosphere and scent of the path is one of freshness and wild abandon.
A path winds its leisurely way through the trees, wide enough for wagons to pass. As it goes through into the forest, a number of other trails branch away, both more and less traveled. Many of them lead to private weyrs, but there's a few more trodden paths - notable among them a road to the feeding grounds, set against the western slopes.
The forest grows wilder the further north one goes, deep growth and ancient places, and the road splits in two against it. One branch leads to a clearing with a large stone building finished with wooden cladding, while the other turns back toward the meadow. Just before it emerges, a trail veers off to the Firelizard Theatre.

IT HAS BEGUN. Risali has… found a place in the forest that she hopes, perhaps, to one day turn into a much bigger weyr. To make home, but she has claimed it, barren though it is for now, and she's started one of the things she's been so very adamant to have in a bigger home: a treehouse. There's where she is now, the flooring completed (probably with help) which means that now it's time for walls. BUT RISA IS TINY, so these things do take time, and as it stands, she's got to get the framing up before she can put the walls up and… well… SHE IS DOING HER BEST. It is small, of course, but on the large-side for a treehouse, and LEIRITH IS BEING A HELPER. "Leirith," comes with slight agitation as Risali pauses to GLARE AT THAT BIG, GOLDEN HEAD. "Please stop moving." « I AM NOT MOVING, MINION. YOU ARE MOVING. » Sigh. ALAS.

Really, isn't it a matter of what frame of reference you use? In a grand sense, NOBODY IS MOVING, and also EVERYONE IS MOVING. It's just like that. Speaking of likes, D'lei has been sent on an important mission! And he is now returning, through trail and forest and wilds of woods-near-Xanadu, with a bag over one shoulder and a large pitcher that is still at least two-thirds full of lemonade despite all the splashes that have been made by bumps and bounces along the way. Because when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade, and when life gives you treehouses under construction, you drink lemonade in them.

WELL LOOK THERE. A plethora of things that Risali likes, starting with D'lei at the very top of that list. It's probably Leirith that heralds the arrival of the Weyrleader first, because she's a dragon and she's get better purview of these things. Either way, it means that Risali is pausing in her work to lean against some of that construction material and staring at the only way up with a smile. That is, right until Leirith moves again, and Risali's footing is suddenly compromised. There's a startled sound in her throat, eyes that go wide seconds before her body reacts and arms slightly flail to try and throw her balance back that a-way, but… no luck. THUD. That's Risa hitting the floor, a huff of air as it leaves her lungs but momentarily, and then, "LEIRITH!" She's grabbing something to chuck at the gold and then… she's laughing, and Leirith is joining in. AND THAT'S HOW D'LEI WILL PROBABLY FINALLY ACTUALLY GARNER HER ATTENTION, when she is in a graceless, laughing heap on the floor and looking up at him through hair that she should really have probably put up but is wearing down for SOME REASON WHO KNOWS. A heartbeat, and then: "Hi."

Leirith has all the purviews. If she sees a purview, and she doesn't have it, well, she does now, because she saw it, and that's a lot like viewing, and YOU CAN'T TELL HER OTHERWISE. (Well, okay, you CAN, but it doesn't do much good, so you might as well save your breath.) AMONG these many purviews? Being a stepladder. Or, well, a stepdragon, and we all know how flexible dragons are about things like familial relations, so it's no wonder that her sense of them shifts out from under Risali's feet, and… TIIIIMBEEEEEEERisali! D'lei blinks, then winces, then grins, in approximate synchronization to the sequence of Risali-tumble, and continues to wend his footsteps her way until he is, in fact, looming over her, with the sunlight in his air to give him a halo like some kind of lemonade-scented angel, and… "They ought to put up a warning sign…" Which might almost be serious, except then there comes the brow lift and grin. "…because you've definitely fallen for me."

Lemonade angels. Excellent. Risali's eyes blink one, thrice, focusing on D'lei (and probably getting distracted by that play of light in his hair) as he speaks and she listens and — nope. Risali's nose scrunches, her lips pull in a grimace, but her eyes are laughing. "That was genuinely awful, bronzerider," Risali breathes out. "It's a wonder you have weyrmates at all. Poor unfortunate souls." But she's pushing herself up to sit, stumbling up to stand and then taking that pitcher with both hands at the same time that she goes up on the tips of her toes to press a kiss against his jaw. "And anyway, I'm pretty sure that I fell for you that day in the garden, when we danced in the snow. At least, I think that's when I realized that I was in trouble." Real trouble. "Or maybe it was the forest. When you laughed at me." THAT LOOK. IT MAD. Playfully so, lingering as she tucks her shoulders in and keeps her eyes on his as she steps around him and then finally looks up to Leirith. A heartbeat, as if Risali is debating the FAITH she has in her dragon, and then a glance for D'lei from over her shoulder. "Where do you want to sit?" Because CLEARLY this lemonade needs drinking, and that bag of his shoulder needs down-putting.

"Between you and me," D'lei says with a lean closer to make it confidential or something, "I think they're just confused." The weyrmates, that is. "They'll come to their senses eventually." And then he grins, which is to say, he moves Risali even further from anything that might be called sense. Because he's just plain rude like that, with his grins and laughing and dancing and… all the rest of it. D'lei tilt-leans to Risali, because his hands are both kind of busy, but then she makes the terrible mistake of freeing one of them, and he tangles that arm around her and curls it up to play with her hair so it tosses against her back, and… "Straight disrespectful, this guy sounds." Laughing at her. (Being D'lei.) The nerve! "You should push him into the mud or something." And then he grins again, because she tried that, didn't she? And it worked about as well as you'd expect, at least, if you know both of these two people and what they do. Which is… variable, really, but at this exact moment, it's at least in theory finding somewhere to sit with lemonade and a sack of treasures, and so… "We could be civilized and sit by that rock." On the ground, by a big flat-ish rock that could be a rough-hewn table if you squint and aren't too picky. It's very civilized… at least, by cave-creature standards. Which, hey. Traditional, here on Pern!

D'lei leans in and Risali still, despite turns of much more heatedly predicamental circumstances, manages to blush. Apparently there are not enough kisses or extracurricular activities this side of Pern to grant one goldrider the boon of immunity to one very specific bronzerider and his… himness. "Not if you keep," Risali gestures up and down with one of her hands, a gesture meant to encompass D'lei as a whole — personality, looks, demeanor — before she continues with a rather put upon, "being this," like it's some sort of grievous insult. BUT IT'S NOT, IS IT? "I'm telling you, you should be illegal." It's a compliment, and suddenly Risali is caught in the spider's web, or the gravitational pull of an event horizon, or just D'lei's arm that she foolishly gave freedom and for just a moment she basks in that contact (and maybe turns a little bit more red, even if that defiant expression challenges him to CALL HER ON IT SHE WILL FIGHT). Then she's giving him a gentle punch somewhere 'near his ribs (and maybe spilling a bit more of that already spilled lemonade) for HIS WORDS and his GRIN because, "Oh, he's absolutely the worst. I've pushed him into the mud, and he always just pulls me down with him." A beat, a furrowing of brows, and — "And then he makes me forget sense all over again." But there's a hint of a smile to lend credibility to her teasing tone, grey eyes shifting away to take in possible tables and to smile back up at D'lei with a scrunch of her nose. "Romantic, Weyrleader." And OFF SHE GOES, towards that rock, towards their QUASI-CIVIL, DEFINITELY PERNESE-TRADITIONAL STANDARD MAKESHIFT SPOT. Where she sets down the lemonade, and then settles herself on the floor. Back she leans, resting her arms behind her as her head cocks to one side and YES SHE IS staring at D'lei. DO SOMETHING. "What else did you bring, Dash?"

"I don't make the laws," D'lei says, despite the fact that, arguably - at least around here - he does. NEVERTHELESS. "I just flaunt them." Because enforcement? Pfft, maybe when he's on the clock, but he is not. Instead, he's here! And… romantic? But of course! "There's even flowers!" …two dandelions and half-eaten daisy count as flowers, right? He is so good at this romance thing. For… some values of good, and some ladies to be romanced. He sets the bag down on their rock-table, where it shifts a bit with the slope as it settles, then rolls down the sides. There's… a pair of wooden cups! Because they're something vaguely not unlike civilized. And then beneath, a pair of still-warm meat pies wrapped in large napkins, along with a bag of candied nuts that is, clearly, the dessert to be had after (or during (or before)) the nutritious meal. Because they're adult and responsible! …at least, when they're doing responsible adult jobs. Right now? Maybe not so much. Right now, they're treehouse-makers and tasty-sharers, in front of an old cavern that might someday be (but is not yet) a place where reasonable adults could live in comfort rather than just one where they could camp out and tell ghost stories and be startled by bats and crawlers. Which uh, speaking of? Definitely happening.

"You let Velvet get to those, didn't you?" comes Risali's question with a raise of on INCREDULOUS EYEBROW. Grey eyes fixate on the flowers, as if she means to rid him of any doubt as to just what it is that she means, and then slowly her attention lifts to the Weyrleader where it holds, quizzical brow still making judgements. It's offset by that slow coming, wicked smile of course, and then diminished when Risali leans forward to help grab and distribute things in reasonable array about their very quaint, very stone-y table. BUT YES. BEST OF IDEAS. CAMP OUTS AND CREEPY STORIES ARE DEFINITELY HAPPENING IN THERE. And then, for just a moment, it's as if Risali remembers just where they are. It's there in her gaze, in the way eyes move across foliage and trees, in the way her smile falters, then fades, when her gaze drops and her body language closes off for one, two, three… But then she's back, forcing a smile, forcing her attention onto THOSE DELICIOUS GOODIES (of which she, of course, starts with the sweets in what is clearly a very winning and adult decision) before shifting onto her knees and shuffling forward on them so that she can sit next to D'lei, and press into his side, and smile up at him as she enjoys one of those candied nuts. "And you could make laws, you know. You might even be good at it, or the very, very worst. Too bad neither of us know a goldrider or a queen foolish enough to fall for you." A beat, a wicked smile, "Or to let that no-good Garouth of yours catch her over and over and over again. Can you imagine? Ha! The horrors." And that smile remains, teasing and wicked and adoring as she holds out some candied nuts for him if he wants them.

"…Velvet may have helped Darien, yes," D'lei admits. KWALITY WITH A KYZEN-RISA-DASH BABY, WUT. His grin gets a wry tug to one corner as Risali hesitates in that in-drawing way, but he doesn't stop the motion of his hands to set things out, or the way he folds up the sack once that's done and sets it down by the side of the rock with a smaller rock on top to keep it from blowing away. REGRETS OR NO, they need to eat, and they can have all the travails and second thoughts they want after lunch. It's not like swimming; you're still allowed to second-guess life choices and impetuous decisions on a full stomach. So! Time for food, and also smiles, and also his arm tucked around Risali as she scoots in against him and he leans back just a bit in the process. Like he is catching her, with that arm, in a demonstration of the foolish and terrible thing that might happen if there were dragons involved. LIKE THE VERY SUBTLE LEIRITH, OR THE TERRIBLE GAROUTH. "It'll never happen," D'lei the Weyrleader assures Risali the Senior Weyrwoman. "Dragons are ineffable, you know." Or so certain rather pretentious purported dispensers of allegedly-ancient claimed-wisdom would say. "You just can't eff them. Gee them, yes. Under certain circumstances, an Haitch might be permissible. But effing them is right out." This part is not what those people say, but hey. (Ay?) "They only allow the most respectable people in that sort of position. The ones with very straight laces." Definitely not the sort who sit in the dirt and reach for candied nuts before eating their dinners, like these two!

IT'S LIKE KAWAII AND QUALITY, ISN'T IT. I LOVE IT. Just like Risa loves arm-tucks and body heat, just like Risali keeps her eyes on D'lei while he speaks, while her nose scrunches up and her lips pull into a smile and a huff of laughter escapes her. "So what about the dragonriders?" she inquires slowly, deviously. "Can we undo their straight laces and eff them?" Teeth come down on her bottom lip, brows rise up, and then she's scrunching her nose, and laughing, and tucking her shoulder in against D'lei to give him a gentle push meant to communicate that she's JUST JOKING. "These are really good," SHE SAYS BECAUSE SHE IS A COWARD and doing her best to avoid whatever INCOMING RESPONSE D'LEI MIGHT HAVE. She KNOWS HE IS THE WORST, and as much as she would like to pretend to the contrary, she really is not immune to anything about him. She is a moth. He is the flame of a candle. He's brightness and heat and life. She's the flutter of wings in a heartbeat and the reckless endeavor to be much too close. EVEN TO HIS MEAT PIES. NO, NOT THOSE MEAT PIES, BAE. THE ACTUAL MEAT PIES, one of which she pulls over and tucks into. "I love him, you know," she says quite suddenly. "Darien, I mean. I love all of them." Because of course she does, and it's not so much telling D'lei (as if he doesn't know), but being a mother and taking pride in her children. "We make really cute babies." BECAUSE WHO IS GOING TO TELL HER THAT SHE'S WRONG. ZEROBODIES, THAT'S WHO.

Let's be honest, Risali has always loved to flirt with danger. The fact that it's named DASHIEL and is a threat to lust as well as just life and limb, well… THAT JUST MAKES IT MORE HAWT. He laughs at her suggestion, unserious as it is, and gives a nod that's more acknowledgement than agreement, though - THERE RISA IS, before he can do more than open his mouth, with her DIVERSION ATTEMPT. And so he laughs again, with a lean back and a slip of his hand down across her side and a tilt of his head in to kiss at that spot that's not quite her neck and not quite her shoulder, where her tunic doesn't quite cover and her hair does an inadequate job of shielding because let's be honest, there's no such thing as adequate. At least Dash limits himself to that one kiss, because there are meat pies to be eaten that are of an actual and non-metaphorical sort. Also lemonade, to be consumed along with them, and D'lei leans forward again to pour some of it into cups. COOL DOWN THAT FIRE with some LEMON GOODNESS. (As if it could.) He grins as Risali is reminded, once more, of the manifest excellence of her children, and nods to her. "It's our gift to Pern." Cute babies, that is. "I'm not entirely sure Pern is ready for them," because really, could it ever be ready for that combination of cute and chaos? "but that just means they'll get to remake it as they go." Just like their parents have done. Worlds are for changing!

Goosebumps, instant and tale-tell, race the shiver along Risali's spine — the same one that sets her hands unsteady, that sees her fumbling with that meat pie for just a moment because even in his limited interactions, D'lei is a threat to her… herness. There's even a soft noise in her throat that she won't admit to making EVER, even as she turns a glare onto her weyrmate and THREATENS HIM WITH A SPORK. "Do you want this to be that kind of a picnic, Dashiel? Because this is how things turn into that kind of a picnic." POKE HIM WITH THE POINTY END. Which she does (gently), right 'round his ribs as he's leaning forward to pour lemonade. Because she is also the worst. But as he leans (and she stabs), she also leans towards him, to brush her lips against his cheekbone, against his jaw, and then CHOWS DOWN ON SOME DELICIOUSNESS while she settles back into her own (kind of) space (because she's still leaning against Dash) and tilts her head back to watch him (and slow drag her spork from her mouth) as he speaks. A heartbeat, two, three, and she's smiling around her utensil before pulling it out the rest of the way. "Hopefully they all get yours and Kyzen's personalities." A beat. "And looks." Another beat. "Scratch that. I don't have enough hours in the day to beat up all the monsters that will probably attract to them."

Does D'lei spill some lemonade as he's stabbed? SURE DOES. The ants and flies (or whatever other small sucrephilic insects exist around here) will be enjoying this rock later. MM MM GRANITE. But he also laughs, and tilts his head in to that kiss as it passes before he too settles back into his own space that is also Risali's space because of course it is. "See, this is why we want a combination," he says. "Enough fierce to do their own maulings, and enough charm that they get away with doing all those terrible things." A grin. "We lost the option for straight-lacings right back when we got either one of us involved." Kyzen could maybe have managed it, especially the Kyzen of a few turns back before he, ah… mellowed? Was corrupted? Either way. "But I think we can raise some charming monsters, handsome ones with good personalities." And really, is there any better way to be? (Besides sitting here, with warmth and leans and touch, at a picnic that is not that kind of picnic and eating meat pies that are actual meat pies. Which D'lei most definitely also is.)

TAKE THEE, D'LEI, RISALI'S NARROWED EYES. And a spork, held near his throat in spectacularly threatening manner. The goldrider leans back in towards her weyrmate EVEN MORE THAN SHE ALREADY IS so that she can whisper, "But you like it," against his jaw. She means the fierceness and the maulings, of course, but… Then she's smiling, stealing another kiss from where her lips were painting words mere seconds before, lingering only long enough to breathe before she's back into her pie. "Just you," Risali corrects with a hint of a smile and a twist of spork in fingers to set the utensil pointing JUDGMENTALLY (and threateningly) in D'lei's direction. "I was a perfectly respectable young lady before either of you walked into my life." IT'S A LIE. "You both stole the innocence right out from beneath me." That's… less a lie, but STILL KIND OF A LIE. AND NOW D'LEI IS TRAPPED, because Risali throws one leg over D'lei's (because apparently leaning on him is not nearly enough contact) and then steals some of his meat pie like it might taste different. Assuming, of course, that he doesn't fend her off with his own utensils. THEN IT'S GONNA BE A SPORK FIGHT. "But they will be handsome monsters." And then, softer, "Thank you, Dash. For the food, I mean." And the company, of course. And the babies.

D'lei takes it with a grin, because… "Sure do." And he sure does kiss back, too, with a tilt of his head and a nuzzle in the process. He takes some of his own pie, while he's got the chance to do it, then… laughs. At Risali's alleged respectability, that is, because WHO WHAT NOW. (He's met her family, after all.) "You can't have it back." The innocence. Or maybe the respectability. Or maybe the meat-pie of hers, that he's going to steal in revenge. "It's already been used. Spent! Those purity marks have been turned into… babies, mostly." D'lei grins. "Good deal." And he hooks an arm over her legs, and leans in with a squeeze for her as he counter-steals her pie while she steals his. This is how sharing works, right? He tilts his head, then, and hehs. His voice is softer as well, with a lingering smile. "You're welcome." For the food. And the company. And the babies.

Add a New Comment
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 License