AFTER The Dark of the Night

Xanadu Weyr - Rhodelia and Inasyth's Barn
LIKE A OLD BARN. IT HAS A BIG COUCH. That's what's relevant here.

Now the dark purpose will be fulfilled, and the last of your sanity will flyyyy!

In the dark of the night, they were tossing and turning and the nightmare they had was as bad as can be. It scared Ina out of her wits. Glori's vigil falling to bits. Then they opened their eyes and the nightmare was three!

Come on minions, rise egg smashers, let your evil shine!
Find them now, yes, fly ever faster. In the dark of the night, in the dark of the night… THEY'LL BE THINE!!

… which is to say, in the middle of the night on Day 28, Month 6, Turn 2725, Inasyth and Glorioth's three precious eggs broke shell and there was an IN THE DARK OF THE NIGHT rager to celebrate the impressions of 2 greens and 1 tubby little blue to their lucky lifemates

OMG WHAT A DAY. NIGHT. SEVENS. TIME! It really was all a blur from when the dragons started humming and the three little eggs started rocking. They luckily didn't take long at all to find their life-mates. Some of the crowd in the stands didn't even really have a chance to wake up before it was all over. The kitchens at least had tons of experience at putting together feasts in the middle of the night, especially when the dragonhealers had been predicting just such an occasion would happen any day. Finally… well into the wee hours of the morning and soon to be into the proper hours of the next day and finally there's not much left of the feasters and even the Party Queen herself has managed to work her way back to her wallow and so Rhody follows after Inasyth, although not without snagging an extra bottle of wine for the barn. She gives a look up to the loft but nah… too much effort and just flops onto the ground level couch instead. "Ooooooofh."

It's underestimated, really, or maybe just not talked about, the adrenaline rush of a hatching that's 'yours' but not 'for you.' Probably, F'yr couldn't resist holding onto Rhodelia's hand in a way that might have left it a little bit sore. One of the most obnoxiously loud hummers was Glorioth and he welcomed all the candidates with a, « AHAHAHAH HA HAAHAHHA HAHAHAHA! ONWAaaaaAAAAAaaaaAAARD, CHAMPIONS. COME TO MEET YOUR DESTINY! » So at least he warmed up to them eventually. Of course, he only trusts his own memory, and everyone knows how long that is on a dragon. RIP FUTURE. If everyone is fortunate, no gold will allow him to catch her and that will be that. F'yr probably, mistakenly, thought the worst was over when the eggs had hatched and lifemates were found, only to find that the rest was much worse. Between the quick visit to the barracks to congratulate the new pairs and the onslaught of mixed sleepy-snarky-wakeful crowd that required him to attempt diplomatic smiles while strangers clapped him on the back side, sigh, there were some of those to congratulate him on a clutch well-hatched while some made small remarks about the number of eggs, or the lack of metallics or— he managed to smile, mostly. Thank Faranth for the booze. Sticking close if not smotheringly to Rhody for mutual moral support seems to have worked as a tactic so far, so there can be little wonder that F'yr is only a few steps behind the goldrider while Glorioth is off still making sure EVERYONE (within his mental reach, anyway) knows the GLORY OF HIS VIRILITY. Hopefully, he won't remember the whole thing in a couple of day's time. For now, F'yr will follow suit, crumpling beside Rhodelia with a groan. Only then does he turn his chin toward Rhody with his own tired blue eyes to squint a little. "Was I supposed to go to my home when you suggested it was time to go home?"

Rhodelia is on a mission to become one with the couch at world speed, although she wiggles over a bit to make room for the bronzerider if he so chooses. And as for the feasting? Rhody certainly made Inasyth proud will all the socializing that she managed to do (and the party dress tossed on as quickly as possible in stead of pajamas). It's like she actually kinda sorta has a handle on this whole weyrwoman thing! Maybe. She's getting there. For the present however, she's got a smile for F'yr and holds out the mostly-full wine bottle. "As long as you managed to shake all the sand off, you can stay. I don't wanna so much as look at another grain for at least a month. Where's the opposite of a beach or desert? Think I can talk Risa into giving me time off to go visit uhhh… High Reaches?"

Doubtless, F'yr appreciates the heroic effort it takes for the goldrider to make the room for him because he goes stretching out into that spot. No doubt he proved at least a small disappointment for those concerned with such things in the fact that he managed his riding pants and a nice-ish, clean shirt, but otherwise the short beard and hair that affects so nicely on his face had to do for his 'party best.' Still, he survived, right? Does he get points for that? "I can't imagine how Risa and R'hyn survive all that so routinely." He's squinting at nothing even as he's angling to gather Rhodelia into his arms, even if he will pause in the nearly unconscious effort to register it and take it from her. "They must have tricks they haven't told us." J'ACCUSE, RISARYN, you will hear from him LATER. If he remembers. He shifts enough to deal with getting the wineskin open, offering it back to Rhodelia for the first drink because he's thoughtful like that, even exhausted as he is. "High Reaches," he agrees. "I might be content with just seeing the snow here." It is winter after all, by now. And they started in summer, weep. "I don't know if I want to know what they've had time to prepare to 'welcome' us back to the office with." That comes deadpan, but with no actual animosity. Some things are just the strange Xanadu way to say, 'We missed you, welcome back!' "I think she'd give you the time, though, if you wanted it. Will Ina go for it? I mean, she's got the new babies and all."

Good thing Rhody had plenty of time to get all her beard jokes out when she say the thing slowly growing out during their times on the sand. She'll help with the gathering by sliding on over, situating her head on his chest as they both still have room to stretch out. Thank Farnath for huge couches. She gives a small snort at the disbelief for the routine surviving. "Well, it's not like I won't have to survive it just as frequently? Probably?" She has her own suspicious glance out the window where Inasyth can be heard happily snoring away. If any gold could figure out how to rise more often than once every turn and a half or so… Rhody's money would be on her own giant hen of a lifemate. "Snow would be nice, as long as there's not sand… and I mean, I guess we'll see? But I can't remember any of the other golds ever doing more than a quick check in on the hatchlings once they were you know, hatched. Think it's kinda hardwired in that once the eggs are hatched, they're the weyrlingmaster's problems now?"

"True," F'yr's voice sounds grave. Don't worry, it's just a prelude to the deadpan, "It's been nice knowing you while you were a little sane." BECAUSE MAYBE SOMEONE HASN'T FORGIVEN HER FOR ALL THE BEARD JOKES. Or at least just needs to give as good as he gets. He shifts enough to drink from the wineskin when it's his turn, provided she's not hoarding it after that, but not so much that he dislodges her, probably just enough to get them half-propped up on a throw pillow. "You know, I would take sand, still. Just sand that comes with water that I can swim in. Can't believe I couldn't even get him to leave long enough to swim most days. I wonder if he would've been that way even if the council chambers hadn't blown up before she clutched, or if that made him extra protective." No, sorry, F'yr, Glori be how Glori be. There's naught that can really change him. GOOD LUCK. Even if some answers can't be known, this one is easy enough to guess. "Maybe I'll go looking for outdoor hot springs big enough to fit him since we missed most of the summer swimming here." He might be rambling now, he sounds tired enough to be rambling.

Rhodelia will get her revenge, don't worry about that! She grins as she passes over the wineskin (she's sharing, really!) which just so happens to free up a hand so that she give a little tug on the beard. "Maybe tell me that when you don't look like a crazy man that's gone off to live in the caves for turns?" Probably not fair at all to the beard! Or the caves which the majority of Pern still lives in despite the lack of Thread threat any more. The mention of the explosion gets a sharp intake of breath with the memory of all the chaos. "Maybe? But… dragon memories are pretty short? So just as likely that's just how he is? And F'yr… if you want summer, the other half of the world is only a short between ride away. And it's summer there." Perks of being dragonriders no longer CHAINED to the sand by three soon-to-be-dragons.

Not at all fair to the poor beard who is being meticulously tended even when F'yr doesn't have much time to deal with much of anything else. It could have been a much worse beast. Faux wounding is all up in that big man's voice as he starts to shift to give her a look and clearly decides that's too much work, so he just gives her the hurt routine from where he's at. It's a lot less effective, but points for trying? "Are you telling me you don't like Scruffles?" Despite the fact that he whipped out the GENUINE GLARE when she started tossing out naming options for the more-than-five-o'clock-shadow-but-not-by-much thing, apparently he's leaning into the joke now. "And my homestead looks nothing like a cave." Not that she said it did, but listen, he's tired. It might not be because he's tired that he adds, "You should come by sometime. See for yourself." It's an invitation that weird-F'yr has never made for weird-F'yr-reasons but for equally unknown and unknowable reasons he's making now. MAYBE THEY JUST BONDED THAT MUCH MORE WITH MONTHS OF SUPER FREQUENT AND EXTENDED COMPANY. Things happen. Like fried brains. Those are a real sands phenomenon. "Oh, true," is said quite authentically, like F'yr had really, truly forgotten that it's summer Up There. Maybe F'yr just forgot what life was like outside of the egg-baking-cavern where Scruffles grew to full mighty strength.

Rhodelia isn't tell him anything! Although she does run her hand across his jaw and Mr. Scruffles before leaning up to give a kiss to the so-called-beard. Apology? Perhaps or even the wine and exhaustion. She tilts her head as he mentions coming to see the Weyr of Mystery. "Perhaps I should…. been so long without seeing it I kinda half assumed that you just didn't live anywhere. Just didn't exist." Object permanence, what is that? Especially when if Rhody closes her eyes probably the only thing she sees is still the image of those three eggs burned into her eyelids from hours upon hours of staring upon Inasyth's insistence.

"It does sometimes seem a more likely explanation for my life than the truth," F'yr will allow, and not even deadpan serious but actually serious, even if it comes with a low affectionate chuckle that is probably MOSTLY for the piece of his life that is most improbable: his big, dumb dragon that he so foolishly and so completely loves, but Rhodelia is a part of the truth of his life, so perhaps taking that apology kiss to the poor, maligned Mr. Scruffles as an invitation, he turns to kiss her more (less) properly, even if, given all the exhaustion of the day, that might not be prelude to anything but setting aside the wineskin and getting more comfortably tucked up together to get some well-deserved rest.

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