Chaos' Choice

Xanadu Weyr - Guest Weyr
Rustic and simple, this one-roomed 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 participating in mating flights a bit of privacy when they need it.

DISCLAIMER: Flight aftermath, mild innuendo, references to nudity, adult language.

Is he tired of the now not-so unfamiliar confines of the guest weyr? Not really (not yet, give it a few Turns). Much of the lead up to Kihatsuth's flight this time is one fantastic blur of heat, restlessness, color, sensations and a myriad of emotions Ru'ien has no capability of remotely parsing at that very moment. Why? Because he's sleeping, deep in the realm of unconsciousness for once and not fighting it off. There stands a good chance he just couldn't do it this time. Sorry, not sorry, Leia, if you were looking for some pillow talk! That'll have to wait until our boy here gets his cat-nap! He's managed to drape his long, lean frame over the majority of the bed too, snuggled down and looking positively (smugly) at peace. Poor thing, keyed up for close to a sevenday, with the last few days often the worst (or the best, he's still undecided). Usually he doesn't sleep, incapable of that escape by the effects of proddiness, which leads to just a heavy crash once all is said and done. There will be aftershocks when he wakes, but small ones are easily ignored if he can keep himself controlled (shouldn't be a problem, right?).

How long has it been? An hour? Two? not long enough Something jogs him out of his reverie. It could be his own subconscious giving him the good 'ol jolt or perhaps something the one sharing the bed with him that triggers him back to a slow resurfacing to the land of consciousness. Ru'ien doesn't go willingly, his eyes pressing firmly shut under a scowling frown as he whines curses under his breath in a hoarse and low voice. Much of what is mumbled is incoherent nonsense, really. Eventually he yields with a groggy yawn and a cat-like streeeeetch that ends with a few satisfying pops to joints and spine. Wiggle wiggle wiggle~ He's already snuggling back down into the bed and… then his eyes flutter open, startling blue even in the half-light of predawn. "… mhm?" They're unfocused and heavy, as he sleepily blinks, his head lowering back to the bed and the bent edge of his arm. He's aware that much of his hair is undone, if not completely unbound save for the few braided strands. He's also aware of the blanket being frustratingly too low and he blindly gropes for where he assumes it is by his thighs. Will he just discover the blanket after all or something decidedly ONLY REMOTELY EXPECTED (but not, immediately, plausible in his sleepy state)?

DON'T WORRY, RU. LEIA HAS GROWN UP A LITTLE SINCE SHE IMPRESSED ONE FOREVER AGO BACK IN FORT WEYR. Kind of. Okay, so… very little, but the important part is that she is exhibiting manners today. Kind of. OKAY SHE'S A MESS, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US. But listen, at some point she ROUSED before Ru'ien, realized the mess she'd made of his hair, and took to remedying the damage she (they) wrought. See, that's definitely not a sheet, that would be Leia's thigh, the very same thigh which Leia has seen fit to hitch over Ru'ien's equally bare hips and press her (also bare) body in tight against his side. But it's not exactly cuddling in so much as it is. No, Leia's eyes are up by her hands, arms extended over her head so that she might plait some of the braids she thinks she remembers back into his hair. It's not until he alerts her of his return to consciousness by making that sleepy sound that Leia stills, shifts more onto her side, and traps PROBABLY ONE OF HIS ARMS under hers in order to rest her cheek on her palm and wait for him to notice her with the biggest, brightest, probably most alarming smile. "Hi," comes in a voice that would be low and sultry if not for the fact that there's too much amusement and just a hint of laughter carrying each syllable. "Good morning. How you doing?" And then she's just… RIGHT BACK AT IT, hands in his hair, allowing him to move away if he wants or stay put. It doesn't matter, she'll either laugh at his retreat, or keep trying to fix what she ruined of his hair. "I wish I looked this good in the morning," she sniffs. "And it's not so often that I meet other redheads." This can't possibly be disconcerting at all… can it? "Twinsies!" It is.

It must have been Leia’s braiding then, that’d done it! Rousing our fair Ru’ien from his beauty sleep~ Indeed, that is a thigh under his questing hand and in his still drowsy state, has not quite made the full connection. He feels warmth and skin and maybe there’s enough of a buzz from his proddy-flight stage that the sensation is nice — so his hand flattens to smooth over said curves in an oh-so lazy manner. LISTEN, why be shy? They just did the deed and, okay, Ru’ien has no idea who Leia is (and likely has some very small distant voice telling him ‘they’ is a lady SHE). He’s coming to his senses now, just as his hand quests higher to (my my, such curves… wait) her hip. It’s then that he’s all too aware of how pressed together their bare bodies are, or the sudden lack when she shifts — but that’s not what catches his attention. It’s her voice, that low and sultry but amused and his eyes blink slow, then visibly sharpen as he focuses and … ah, there it is! Awareness! At last. “… good — morning? Is it?” Ru’ien’s hand promptly snaps up and back, but the gesture matches his drawled query to the hour; he presses that same set of fingers to his cheek, in feigned thought before tucking that hand away casually. IS HIS OTHER ARMED PINNED? Oh dear. He’s not looking uncomfortable, no awkward squawking or sheepishness or even dismay over being with a woman. Disappointed? TOO BAD. How’s he doing? “Mhm. Well rested?” he muses with a low laugh of his own. “At least, I don’t feel anything too bruised or hurting … are you braiding my hair?” To what does he owe the pleasure! He even tries to look up to see, only to end up crossing his eyes and giving up with an amused huff. Staying put seems to be his angle, half because he’s not wanting to budge and because it’s the only way he can enact some payback! “Are we that rare, us redheads?” he muses, as he reaches up with his free hand to smooth back her hair. LISTEN, it’s only fair! RIGHT!? Another quiet laugh for the ‘twinsies’ declaration, though he tacks on a: “Oh, don’t sell yourself short? Hair isn’t everything.” The wink that follows probably ruins (ha ha!) much of the sincerity there, but that’s just Ru’ien for you! Withdrawing his hand (after realizing he cannot braid with only one), he tucks it back under his chin and tries to meet her gaze. “Are you okay?” Given with a lazy and lopsided smile, but there’s a lurking note of genuine tone there. HE DOES WANT TO KNOW! For uh… reasons.

FOILED! And just when we were hoping for a backpedal and an ass-catching on the floor. WAY TO DASH OUR DREAMS, MAN. Just kidding; Leia's already huffing a soft noise for the hand trailing up her leg, pressing into the hand that finds its way into her hair, and all while she listens. That mischievous amusement never falters, never wanes, never shifts; it's as constant as her presence is physically, in this moment, even as Leia keeps her silence until she's silent no more. YOU WANT COMPLIMENTS, RU? HERE COME YOUR COMPLIMENTS. "I'm sore, places I didn't even know could hurt hurt, and I don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure I remember you being a terrible, horribly aggressive tease that had very little give in him and was everything but a gentleman." Is any of that even true? Leia? LEIA? "So yeah," comes belied by laughter, "I'd say I'm doing pretty good." Which is when she shifts, a move that puts her a breadth more on Ru than beside him, but if Ru'ien isn't about to be cowed by being this close to a VERY NAKED STRANGER (even IF they just (mutually) submitted to the baser commands of dragons), AND A NAKED LADY STRANGER AT THAT, then far be it from Leia to pretend she has even one single iota of shame in her body. SHE DON'T. Don't worry though, her attention is still on Ru's hair, the same hair she attempts to pull down and out at an angle that Ru can see if he crosses his eyes and rolls them all the damn way back. "I'm trying to braid it anyway. I don't remember all the spots you had them. I was ah… preoccupied." DEVILISH WOMAN. A hint of canines on a smile that pulls and subsides is the only beat before she speaks again. "And I wouldn't say that we're rare, us redheads." Finally, an answer to earlier questions as she twists her work between fingers. "But I wouldn't say we're a common find, either." And the odds of stumbling on a second redheaded rider? … Well. "Honestly, I'm pretty sure that you're the only other redhead I've had the pleasure to tumble." DID SHE STOP SO THAT SHE COULD DROP HER GAZE TO RU AND WAGGLE HER BROWS? She did, and that smile is just as horrible, pressing into another huff of laughter that sees her ducking her chin even as she gives up her quest of righting her wrongs (for now) in order to bring one hand to rest over Ru's chest. Fingers sweep (FAIR IS FAIR, YOU SAID IT) then taptaptap on his sternum, but somehow Leia manages to make the gesture seem more like an idle motion made in thought than any real attempt to actually steal a feel of the goods. "Or be tumbled by?" SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER, RU. HONEST. "So what kind of morning after are we having? Is this the awkward, 'Oh no, there's a stranger in my bed and my inner holder is coming out to be ashamed of the fact that I just bumped uglies with you, despppppaaaair'? Is it a, 'You know, I don't really remember what we did last night, but my curiosity says I'd like to,' or is it a, 'We can be amicable, my name is Leia, what's yours?' kind of morning? Because I can pretend to be outraged about my virtue and how you've clearly stolen it. I'm very good at yelling." A scrunch of her nose as she smiles, as she tilts her chin (THE BETTER TO SEE RU WITH) and taptaptaps for her answer.

DID HE WANT COMPLIMENTS? (yes, yes he did) Ru’ien blinks and despite himself, blushes while he tries to wear a smug look that doesn’t quite fit him. ‘Pretty good’ is a decent enough answer and suits his ego worries. Did he expect worse!? (probably) Is he suddenly sheepish? Not really. IS IT TRUE? Enough must be, because he groans next around a low huff of laughter. He knows he’s a tease and a little much at times, so none of that is touched upon. “… why do I got a vague memory of some terrible joke about — about handling sticks?” Was that it? He squints. “You’d think I’d remember my own dick jokes!” BUT HE DOESN’T! Help a man out here, Leia? (only don’t actually help him out) There might be SOME widening of his eyes when she’s suddenly more ON than BESIDE him, but as before he holds no shame or shyness over the naked form — it just doesn’t do anything for him, unfortunately, beyond platonic enjoyment. HE’S A CUDDLE BUG, OKAY? “You don’t have to do it exactly as before!” he muses with a grin, letting her put her hands all on up in there, in his hair. It’s not like she’s the FIRST flight winner who’s been fascinated by it! Ru’ien feigns pouting in disappointment for Leia’s correction on their RARITY but that is soon wiped away by another smirk that broadens under a deep laugh for her brow waggling and no-shame remarks. Two can play at that! Does he care that her hand is on his chest? Nope! “Well, what do you know! It’s a set of firsts for both of us, but I think I win?” This is where he’s going to playfully poke (GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THERE!) her with his finger somewhere along her ribs or her shoulder. “First redhead and woman. Two points to your one!” Leia’s welcome to smack him, if she wants! But also, LISTEN, there’s no judgement here, okay? Ru’ien won’t stand for it. He will, however, eagerly leap on the not-awkward suggestion of potential mornings. Was more laughter on the list, Leia? Because he’s laughing — quiet at first, then a more rolling, genuine laugh that almost has him in tears. It takes a moment for him to get a hold of himself, subdued to the occasional snickered breath or throaty chuckle between breaths and words. “So many tempting options! I didn’t think I’d have a choice~” He will tap-tap a few fingers thoughtfully as well. “Well, you screeching about your virtue is out, since I think I own that right if we’re gonna be putting on the theatrics…” Wait, what? His grin broads, as mischievous and playful as the narrowing of his eyes as he peers up at her. “Can I mix and match? How about an amicable 'nice to meet you Leia, I’m Ru’ien', and we clean up and grab some breakfast? Because I’m starving and I’d like some company. I know the good spots!” Where two can semi-hide away from prying eyes. COME DO THE WALK OF SHAME WITH HIM, LEIA! “Or we can sneak away, grab some grub, sneak back here?” Breakfast in bed! SNUGGLES “Oorrr, we can call it, shake hands and I guess go our separate ways?” No hard feelings on that! Ru’ien’s a big boy, he can handle it.

Oh no! Look at that blush! Leia does; she's even rude enough to draw attention to it, the tips of forefingers working as one unit to assault opposing cheeks with gentle pokepokepokes in tandem, her own laughter bitten back. AS FOR DICK JOKES, WELL, "I don't remember," Leia laments, forlorn at the lack of majesty registering in her mind. "And I'd insert a dick joke of my own to fill the gap, but I don't want to come off as cocky." EEEEEEEEH. SEE WHAT SHE DID THERE, RU? It doesn't matter, Leia is laughing anyway and then settling again, chin dropping to rest somewhere near his ribs as blue eyes watch, dancing with mirth and mischief that transforms into delight. One, two, three, and you'd think that Christmas (or Turnover, as it were) has come early. "And it isn't even my turnday," Leia breathes, her initial answer to being his first woman and his first redhead perhaps a little too enthusiastic. And listen, maybe that information would have been better lost in the fragmented reality of what happens in flightlust stays in flightlust, because there Leia goes, up to her usual antics. She shifts to all fours, climbs to her feet, takes hold of the sheets rumpled and forgotten and purloined now for nefarious purposes, and then LEIA IS PULLING THEM AROUND HER SHOULDERS LIKE A GD ROYAL MANTLE. There she stands, in what remains of shared intimacy, shameless and nude but for her new cape, holding court. "HEAR YE, HEAR YE! I, LEIA OF MONACO BAY WEYR, RIDER TO BLUE FORYTH, DO DECLARE THAT WE HAVE CLAIMED THE," giggle, "RUIN OF THIS HERE RU'IEN AND ANY AND ALL LADIES WHO COME FORTH HENCE SHALL BE NOW, AND FOREVER MORE, ONLY EVER SECOND BEST, NO MATTER HOW PRETTY YOUR EYES, OR SEXY YOUR LEGS, OR RED YOUR HAIR." BUMP. PLOP. That would be Leia dropping back onto the bed, back onto Ru (okay, so against his side), enjoying his laughter, perhaps, and waiting out his words before she speaks again. With a gasp. "Do you only like men?" A lift of her head, blue eyes jumping between blue before teeth sink into her bottom lip and Leia whispers, "I love men too. Girls can be fun, don't get me wrong, but there's nothing quite like those strong hands and those hard bodies and —" PFFBT. Even Leia knows when she's going too far. That's why she's laughing again, rolling to sit up, abandoning the dignity sheets offer as she steps around the mess of cloths and tipped over furniture to find her shirt. Or is that his? She looks at it for a long minute, decides she doesn't care, and pulls it on anyway. It's his, probably. This is fine, right? RIGHT. SNIFF. "Food sounds good, clean sounds better, and I'm happy to be seen in public or bring it back here, but we can go get it first and decide what we want from there. Then I'll see if I can help fix your hair." THAT'S FAIR, RIGHT? Right. "If, of course, you want me to." She can be polite sometimes. YOU AREN'T GETTING RID OF HER THAT EASILY.

Ru’ien’s initial surprise to have Leia assaulting opposing blush-tinted cheeks with tandem pokes delays his DEFENCES — which is nothing more than to scoff and playfully bat at her hands. Quit it~ (it’s really halt-hearted here) He’s about to say something to join in her lamenting, but then she fires off that terrible zinger and he dissolves into a fit of snickered chortling. “That was awful,” —ly AWESOME! The disappointment is completely fake, Leia, don’t worry! As she drops her chin to settle near his ribs, he doesn’t mind that and the way his gaze settles on her and eyes widening is more for HER change in expression! “It isn’t?” he quips back without hesitation, mouth tilting into a smirk that is a touch playful-arrogant and intrigued. THAT quickly dissolves into open mouthed disbelief as she’s moving, gathering the sheets to settle about her, shameless and nude in her cape. WHAT IS HAPPENING!? LISTEN! NO ONE CAN HEAR THEM (not that Ru’ien cares if someone does, because if they do… Y’ALL TOO CLOSE AND DESERVE IT) Midway through her (epic) speech, Ru’ien will groan over an incredulous smattering of laughter, as he covers his face with his hands. Look at how (not) embarrassed he is! SHE EVEN USED THE RIGHT PUN! Be still his heart (kidding)~ He’s thoroughly entertained when she drops back down into the bed and to his side. Laughter eventually subsides to the occasional muffled snicker, fingers wiping at the corners of his eyes. WHOO, take a breath there, Ru’ien! “Afraid so~” he manages to say at last on a sighed exhale and winking at her. Another round of laughter leaves him gripping his sides by his ribs. OW, woman, you’re killing him here! It’s definitely HIS shirt, but the mistake is an easy one to make — given it’s a feminine styled one. He politely clears his throat. “As lovely as you look in that, I’m gonna have to ask that we save clothes swapping for a second … or is it third? … date.” Snicker. “I’m sure your shirt is lovely but will hardly fit me.” HE MIGHT TRY, LEIA. JUST YOU WATCH! Oh, should he get out of the bed? Ru’ien’s going to stretch out again and, just as shameless, swing his legs over the edge and then tentatively push to his feet. Are parts of him bruised? Just a bit. But it’s a familiar ‘good’ ache and nothing he can’t brush off. This is where height comes into comical starkness — Ru’ien having a solid 6’3” to her 5’4”. HELLO DOWN THERE~ “You’re not the first and only one who’s offered to fix my hair,” he muses and the bright grin he flashes her is a clear: YES. Should he find his pants? Also yes. He’ll gather them, sitting back on the edge of the bed to slip those (so tight, nothing left to the imagination~) back on.

"Oh you liked it," Leia challenges, laughter coming around the shark smile that scrunches her nose and shows too damn many teeth. She even nips at him, a non-verbal (playful) threat for his LIES. AND LISTEN. Listen. When Ru'ien rises from the bed, Leia is only a woman. Her eyes do an appreciative sweep of the assets, shameless as she stands with one hand on her hip and tilts her head, raking up and up and up (and up!) with her eyes, brows raised in the kind of admiration one might attribute to a student of art taking in the sculptured marble of a Dionysian masterpiece, and there is absolutely zero shame in the low whistle that comes next — even as she's shedding his shirt because he asked so nicely. "I don't think there's a damn thing you could put on, Ru'ien, that wouldn't fit you." BECAUSE YOU ARE A GOOD LOOKING MAN, but that's the extent of her flirtation. She flings his own shirt toward his face as if to cover his eyes and CAST THINE SINFUL THOUGHTS FROM HER SUN-KISSED, FRECKLE RIDDEN TEMPTATIONS as she (shamelessly) turns back to scouring for her own shirt. "I do not want to be the first, Ru'ien. I don't even want to be the best." And there's a impish wickedness in the look she casts him from over her shoulder. "I just want to be the one you don't forget." Which might have been all the more daunting in every implication except that suddenly her voice goes up a pitch in octave as her attention swings to an abandoned pile of what are hopefully her clothes. "Oh! There you are." AND INDEED, that shirt is hers, tailored to the curves she pulls it over to hide and doing nothing for the plight of her pantslessness. "I see you've found your pants," she intones with a hint of humor. "How unfortunate for the rest of the weyr." But AH! LOOK! HERS. She grabs those too, and sighs as she pulls them over her own legs. "And now how unfortunate for me." But don't worry Ru, HERE SHE COMES. Or rather… there she goes? WITHOUT BOOTS, LEIA? Don't worry, she's just SWINGING OPEN THE DOOR and then turning to face him with another wicked little smile and a shift of those leather-clad hips. "Come on, gorgeous. There's a whole world with no clue what to do with people like us waiting."

Ru’ien is never one to shy away from attention, so Leia can be as shamelessly appreciative as she wants! he’s definitely giving her the good angles on purpose “You sound pretty confident, having just met me! Or is this something you tell all your flight partners?” LEIA, FEEL FREE TO THROW SOMETHING HEAVIER AT HIM! And that impish, wicked grin of his! Flinging his shirt is hardly going to deter him, easily snatching it out of the air and donning that now too. YOU’RE SEVERAL TURNS TOO LATE TO CAST SINFUL THOUGHTS FROM HIM~ He’s fussing over the last bits of his gathered clothes and accessories, hands trying in vain to make some less chaotic order to his hair — eventually he gives up, not truly caring who notices is tumbled look. WEAR IT PROUD, he does~ “Well, Leia, I can say that you’ve already succeeded at that!” Ru’ien’s quick to offer “reassurance” on that matter of memorable experiences. There’s only a slight wince for the raise of octaves, but he’s quick to laugh again for the exchange. “Mhm, how unfortunate~” he muses with a wry smirk and wink. LISTEN, never say never? It wouldn’t be unlike the greenrider to just stroll on back to his weyr pants-less some day. NOT TODAY, THOUGH! “Let’s not keep them waiting, then!” Ru’ien exclaims, smirk turning to a full on broad grin as he goes to sashay right on out that door! Did he get a chance to find his (heeled) shoes? Probably! He can slip those back on along the way or maybe he has NO ISSUES treading barefoot until they reach their destination! Will there me further mayhem along the way? You bet. And the high chance of some mildly scandalized patrons trying to enjoy a peaceful breakfast!

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