Diagnosis: Lust

Xanadu Weyr - Dragons' Pool
Light filters in through a jagged crack in the wall, but while it's dark in here, it's certainly not cold. Water seeps through the walls, forming trickles and rivulets that run down to an enormous pool only to rise again as steam. There's enough room for a full-grown gold dragon - though she'd be curled nose over tail and likely displace half the water. Smaller dragons will find ample chance to bathe and play - which may splash just as much, all things considered. Glowbaskets hang from hooks drilled into the rock, casting their dim phosphorescence over stone shattered and blackened by smoke.

It's evening when Leirith takes the Weyr by storm. Probably some people were doing innocent things like reading. Or eating. Or… anything that wasn't whatever they're doing after that lust radiates through the minds of riders and even poor, innocent candidates. Stefyr was here. Stefyr is here. The pool is quiet aside from the splashing of the big blond, who appears to be drowning out Leirith with an attempt at— well, actual drowning. He vanishes beneath the water and then surfaces long enough to gasp in a breath before vanishing again. Does it help? Probably not. THANKS, LEIRITH.

Surely it was some decision to come here over somewhere else, for whatever reason, but the important thing is that this is where Khavro shows up. There's an anxious energy about the way he moves through the cavern, moreso than usual but different than usual, too. He's already pulling off his shirt, and kicking off his sandals before he really realizes that there's another person in the pool nearby. "Fuck," he doesn't quite yell, but the way he says it is on edge and audible, especially if Stefyr comes back up at the right time.

It so happens that Stefyr does surface in time to hear the swear. With his vast knowledge of what proddiness means and the fact that he's been in this cave the whole time and not where he can see anything, he might not actually have any idea why he's suddenly feeling so… SO whatever this is. There's silence beyond the sound of tread water before the blond offers, "Hey Khavro." It's not awkward at all, surely. He cuts a path through the water until he reaches where he can stand, but doesn't emerge farther than his mid-chest. He looks at the trader and then away, his eyes on the water instead. "How's it going?" It's hazarded as something to say. He probably doesn't really care, given their last real interaction.

Khavro paces a few steps one way, then comes back the other, probably trying to decide if he wants to put pick up his things and find somewhere else to hide. "Fine. Everything's fine," he says, unconvincing, then he must make the decision to stay, because there go his pants and he's heading toward the pool. He doesn't, of course, head straight toward Stefyr. But he isn't as far away as he could be when he pops into the water.

Evangeline moves into the dragons' pool, from the training grounds.
Evangeline has arrived.

"Me too. I'm fine. Too." Stefyr answers the completely unasked question from where he stands, covered to his mid-chest by the water by the enormous pool that is the body of water closest to the candidate barracks. His things are in a pile near the edge, and Khavro is just entering the water with his things somewhere along the edge. too. It's not awkward at all, especially since here in this cave there is no sky to see - no way to know that a rising senior gold is what is causing that very real lust that might be under the skin of everyone in the Weyr for as loud as the senior gold's leak to the general population of the Weyr while she seeks her mate. Blue eyes leave the water briefly to look at the curly haired candidate that he's not on the best of terms with and then he suddenly throws himself back in the water to vanish under and resurface out a little ways to where his toes might be able to touch. "Does it feel hot in here, to you?" The chit-chat is awkwaaaard, but with his eyes cast to the ceiling, Stefyr might just be trying to sort through the what is this even feelings he's probably having.

"Good," says Khavro even though he didn't ask for that info. He watches Stefyr vanish back under the water, moves a bit further out himself without going under, then his eyes are focusing again on the bigger candidate when he reappears. "Of course it's hot in here." That's part of the point, isn't it? Maybe not the same sort of hot, granted. "I should've gone to the lake," he adds after a moment, more to himself, but definitely out loud.

The potent aphrodisiac that is the rising of a senior queen can destroy the morals of even meticulous holder girls. Stumbling into the cavern, Evangeline's eyes widen at the two men occupying her hiding spot. Her hands are at her high buttoned collar, and she struggles to undo the button. The button is undone and her hands travel to her wrists, a frenzied scared look in her eyes as she looks from Khavro to Stefyr. No words come out, her mouth opens and closes quickly like a fish trying to breathe on land. Pacing back and forth in front of the entrance to the pool, she rolls her sleeves up. Sweat beads on her forehead and every few seconds her hands tug at her clothes, her shirt is untucked in one tug, and it seems her whole body is covered in bugs. Her chest rises and falls like she is panting, slowly pulling at her clothes with her mouth hanging open. For all of the physical distress, every few steps, her eyes lock onto the two men and then back to the cavern walls.

"The lake would've been good," Stefyr answers comments definitely not actually meant to be a conversation with him, but, oops, it is now. "Longer walk, though. Here's closer," which is probably how Stefyr of the reduced freedoms and privileges since Turnover ended up here instead of the lake. "It's big enough though." For what. The blond shakes his head as though to clear water from his ears. Maybe that will help his head, too. He glances to the entrance to the cave in time to take in the younger candidate. "Hey Evi," he greets as if this were just any other day. "Alright there?" Has his brows creasing a little. He needs to focus here. He glances toward Khavro and then drifts in that direction, as though not really aware of it. He looks back toward Evangeline. "Water's good. Warm." Or is that just him? Them? Whoever. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, LEIRITH.

"Yeah, closer," is said absently, like he doesn't entirely realize he's saying it, because his attention is drawn toward the girl. Khavro frowns at her, brows furrowing just noticeably, and he definitely doesn't notice Stefyr drifting closer to him. Or him drifting closer to Stefyr, which also happens. The trader, who is avoiding getting his hair wet, apparently, looks like he might have wanted to say something, but can't quite remember what it was. It's understandably frustrating.

"Lake?" Evangeline gasps out the word leaving her lips with a ragged edge, a strange sound for someone sweet and innocent. Her hands are still exploring her body. The shirt is pulled totally out of her waistband, one hard look at the men in the pool, and the shirt comes over her head and is tossed with abandon in the corner. She is milk-white under her shirt, she fumbles with her underclothes but manages to get them unhooked. The garment hits the floor right where she stands, and her hands run over her bare shoulders, down her sides as if she is smoothing the crawling that has started under the skin. A fire has been lit, and all attempts to press it out are failing. The pacing begins anew, head turning towards Stefyr. "It's much to warm- I might be sick." Each word requires it's own breath, and without a second thought or glance, the woman who has NEVER been seen without ALL of her clothes is slipping out of her skirt. With a running start, Evi throws her body into the pool, coming up with a huge gasp. "The water is warm." Comes out with a sensuous gasp, and a smile fills her face, she looks every bit the mad cult worshiper, the frenzied glee of someone who thinks they have found religion. Her eyes lock onto the faces of Khavro, and the Stefyr as she starts to tread water in fast circles. WHO IS THIS AND WHERE IS EVI.

"Sick?" This is the word that distracted Stefyr latches onto. It's one of his trigger words, after all, for taking care of ALMOST LITERALLY EVERYONE AROUND HIM. His brows stay down in concern. "I mean, it's hot in here, but…" He glances to Khavro, "I don't think it's that hot," is it? He reaches a hand up to push a handful of water through his already wet hair. It can't have been lost on the big candidate that Evangeline has a tendency to be covered in the group living situation that is the candidate barracks and the behavior now… well, it doesn't match. Even with his own distractions, Stefyr's concern is evident in his expression. "I'll take you to the infirmary," is what he comes up with because maybe he doesn't think he even needs to check her forehead. "C'mon." And with that he's starting to move toward the shore and where his pile of things are, which proves to only include his towel, boots and shirt because his shorts are still on, even if they are clinging in a way he probably would prefer not be seen by anyone else, here or elsewhere.

Khavro doesn't move from where he's claimed in the pool, and honestly he doesn't seem terribly concerned for Evangeline. Fortunately she has Stefyr, though, who the trader's pale green gaze shifts to when the bigger candidate passes starts moving to get out. Khavro looks a little like that's not something he wants, but it's not like he'd admit that out loud right now. "You should both go," is what he says instead.

Diving underwater Evangeline swims towards Khavro and comes up right in front of him, her body is about an inch from his, and she is giggling maniacally her silverly tenor echoing off the cave walls. A single pointer finger emerges from the water, and she presses it into Khavro's nose, "Booopp." Followed by more giggling, the finger runs down his chest, and she says, "You're it!" With a splash of water, she is swimming towards Stefyr, white water splashing everywhere. "Wait for me, Stefyr! Whhyyyy, are you leaving." The pouty whine is as out of place as the rest of her behavior, her voice a teasing sing-song. "I feel better now Stefyr, you should come back." Even while saying this, she is following the blonde man; before the older candidate can reach the shore, she is right behind him. Popping out of the water, the shorter girl presses her hand into his shoulder and presses her lips just behind his ear. The laughter that fills the cavern is full of fey mirth, and she says, "Now /you're/ it too."

Something like suspicion briefly flashes across Stefyr's face and his blue eyes catch on curly hair and then the face attached. He frowns slightly, "I think you should come. What if she faints on the way and I need someone to go for help?" That would be Khavro's role in this scenario. That is, of course, before someone young is behind him and then pressing a kiss behind his ear. If nothing else spurred the big blond's protective instincts, that does. This is a man with eleven siblings and fifteen cousins who were always around. It should come as no surprise to those that know his history that he may be big but he is hella fast. His bicep flexes and then somehow Evangeline is caught and in the same motion her comparatively slight frame is drawn up over his shoulder and he's striding to the shore. "C'mon, Khav. I need help." Or witnesses. Something.

Khavro's head jerks back reflexively at the booping of his nose, and his brows furrow, but not necessarily at Evangeline. He seems confused when she's moving away again, and he starts drifting after as she gets closer to Stefyr. "You seem like you have it under control," he counters, even if he's already following them both out of the water and heading toward his pile of clothes to fumble his pants back on.

Swimming along happily, full of fun and play, Evangeline's attachment to every moment makes her the easiest person to capture ever. A bright giggle echoes from her lips, small squeals escaping her "STEFFYR, UN HAND me.." Her tone does not match her words, laughter coating every word, and she is kicking her legs slightly and wiggling around. "You should come!! We are going somewhere secret." A conspiratory look flashes on her face; she is all teeth and joy, unaware of anything but her own feelings and seemingly immune to the seriousness of her actions. Pern probably has plants that will do this, maybe she's been poisoned. Evi's little fists tap against Stefyr's back, feet kicking slowly. It's abundantly clear that she is not really trying to escape, and is really enjoying her out of personality experience. "You should come." Tomorrow she might need to move to the Western Continent and hide in shame, but at this moment, there's no foresight in the girl's body. Every few kicks, she giggles and runs her hands up Stefyr's back, fingers trailing lightly as if she is playing the piano on his skin. THIS IS HER BIG BROTHER. WHAT is HAPPENING.

"Shit," is Stefyr's swear as Evangeline kicks and wiggles, his strong hands adjusting their grip on her as if she were a particularly unwieldy bag of bovine feed. Perhaps not the most flattering comparison, but such is a farmer's experience with large burdens; he just doesn't have Ila'den's finesse yet. Being wet and skin on skin, things are slippery though, so it's probably not any wonder that he puts Evangeline down when they arrive near his things. It may prove to be more surprising that in the next moment he's snatching his Stefyr-sized towel and whipping it around the younger girl, seeking to pin her arms within the towel-roll before hefting her again over his shoulder in another efficient motion before he's trying to shove his feet into his boots. "A little help?" He calls over to Khavro. Help with his boots is really the least the other candidate can do - maybe even grab Stefyr's shirt for him since his hands are full of Evangeline. But at least all this man-on-a-mission-ness has afforded his mind a little clarity. "We're going to the infirmary," he tells Evangeline, possibly just to make this more clear. Nevermind that he's probably having his own itch under the skin problems since Leirith hasn't let up at all, but he's trying to stay focused here.

PARTY POOPERS. Total buzzkills. When placed down, it looks for a moment like Evangeline might run, one hand reaching out to tap Stefyr's shoulder, her perverse game of tag continuing. Unfortunately, or well, fortunately, she was captured and pinned like a carpet. "HEY" She yells, man, it's good that she is always so quiet because the noise level mixed with high pitched giggling would make her the bane of the barracks. "Heeeyyy, so if.. you let him put me down, we can keep playing!" Is crooned at Khavro, her nose wiggling with impish impunity, her high pitched squeak emitting from her throat and her toes kicking, "Can't you feel it Stefyr, come onn.." The fevered madness that Leirith is pressing on the Weyr has hit her with full force, and any resistant she might have is gone. The kicks of her feet stop for a moment, and without any warning, her teeth are sinking into the skin between his shoulders, at first, it's not hard but then her bottom teeth meet the top and PINCH. He might have a nice bruise to show of this misadventure. "Now, we can BOTH go to the infirmary." WOAH BUDDY.

The blond man's feet get shoved in to his boots, but maybe his breath hitches briefly when he meets Khavro's gaze, the color in his cheeks rising for more than one reason now. Khavro being helpful, Evi being erotic. THE WORLD HAS GONE MAD. Under normal circumstances, Stefyr might ask more questions. Under these circumstances, it probably seems very obvious to him that Evangeline is in great need of healerly assistance. He must feel… something. How could he not? Not with the Senior Queen being Leirith and Leirith being in flight. But Stefyr is just a man in the Weyr. He has no bonds to dragon nor even firelizard so he gets the least of the leakage, even with a queen who's so glad to share the love, literally. "Faranth!" It's loud, it's pained. "That'll teach me-" he starts but swallows the rest. Instead, he snaps, "C'mon, Khav," in case the trader thought to just linger behind, and off he goes, hauling his feisty co-candidate to the infirmary. Doubtless along the way it will become apparent either through the number of couples tucked in various locations, the sounds coming from those places, or just a happenstance glance in the skies if shadows can be made out against the moons (are there moons tonight? Who even knows?) that there's a dragon flight underway. Whether any of these fine, non-Weyr young people know what that means is a whole other question.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," grumbles Khavro, hefting the awkward pile of things as he makes his way after them. "Can't we just leave her somewhere to cool off?" It sounds like he assumes in this scenario that he and Stefyr would continue to stay together afterwards. Never mind that's basically what the biggest of them seems to have his sights on. If he knows what's going on on their way to the infirmary, he keeps his thoughts to himself, staring purposefully either at Evangeline's head or Stefyr's butt as he follows along after them.

Evangeline has been a good sport, really, but the vivacity gifted to the teen by Leirith has made her cunning. While Stefyr carries her along, her feet kicking slows, and she starts to squirm. Left, right, left-right, her shoulders and torso thrashing. The Weyr wide consummating barely gets her attention as she tries to escape from the blondes clutches. "WHAT is HAPPENING." She exclaims, looking around for a fraction of a second, she whistles at the couples and laughs like Ursula from the little mermaid, a manic sound. A wink is thrown towards Khavro, "Oooohh, you don't want to play? Was just TAG boys. PLEASE. Who can't play TAG.," and she bites down again on Stefyr's shoulder; this one is harder and might draw blood. "DOWN. You have NO RIGHT to handle me like THIS."

"FUCK," is a downright bellow. "STOP IT, Evangeline," Stefyr's mass jerks as much in rebuke of his passenger as in response to the hard bite. "You're acting crazy!" That's the kid gloves coming off the usually biddable big blond. There is no varnishing of the truth as he sees it here. "I don't care where you go after I leave you at the infirmary," because his goodwill well has run dry, "but I'll be flamed if I don't at least take you there where someone qualified can figure out what the fuck is wrong with you." He must take in the other sounds from the darkness, the other hints of bodies moving together like beasts with two backs - or possibly more, but he obviously doesn't understand what the shell is happening. The world really has gone mad and right now duty is the only thing driving him toward the infirmary. "I am not just leaving her wrapped only in my towel," is snapped to the trader, "and I'm sure as shell not stopping to dress her." He doesn't even suggest that Khavro do the honors, but it's plain his blood is running hot and right now that heat is taking the form of rage. "And if you leave me to deal with this alone, I will do more than grab your fucking shirt this time," Stefyr reminisces fondly of their near-confrontation in the woods. "I will beat you worse than the time I put my brother's head into the porcine feed trough." He looks around on the way to the infirmary as if he might be able to spot just such a trough in the immediate vicinity.

The struggle between Stefyr and Evangeline is a little harder for Khavro to keep track of, and he jumps when the former bellows at the latter. "Faranth," he says at them, both scolding and something else. Calm down, people, you're being too exciting. Oddly, he has no protests for Stefyr's demands, "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." Not until he starts feeling more like himself, anyway. Or at least until his many inhibitions and walls return to their rightful places! Any minute now, please.

The yelling from Stefyr seems to cause more giggling, but Evangeline gives up on struggling and biting for the moment. Her feet kicking with glee, it's obvious she has no problem with what she just did. At least not right now, for now, everything is fun, and the world is mad. Another wink is thrown towards Khavro, she seems to be coming down a tad, and something seems to be edging her back to herself. "What is happening." This time the words come out in her more normal tone of voice, as the lust has been overtaken by small amounts of confusion.
Everyone needs a hero, and today Stefry's comes in the form of Onyxia. Walking down the path towards the dragon pools, towel in hand, and whistling a tune like this whole flight affair doesn't phase her at all is a young spikey brown-haired woman, 5'7 and slender. She's in hunter green riding leathers, wears the knot of a wingrider in comet wing and has a definite swagger to her step. The woman passes by the crew before turning back, "'EY!, where yu goin' with my cousin?" She bellows, moving herself to block Stefyr's path and if allowed taking Evi from the man and place her on the ground, pulling the younger girl in and shaking her at the shoulders. "Yu shouldn't be out." She says to Evangeline. Evangeline giggles a bit at her cousin, and the older rider offers, "I got her.. she's kin." Evangeline is slowly ushered away if allowed, and Onyxia seems to still be headed back to the pools. "Wherry-head who let you out durin' a queen flight, swear the Weyrling staff 'round here should be dropped 'tween." The older rider says, arm tightly wrapped around Evi's.

"Your cousin?" That's all Stefyr needs. Onyxia could be twirling a suspicious mustache and holding candy and the big blond would probably still basically put Evangeline down and push her into the rider's hands. "She said she was sick and she sure is acting like it, so we were taking her to the infirmary. You're welcome to her," he's not going to wait especially after the older woman volunteers responsibility. "C'mon," is gruff to Khavro and the candidate will even grab his fellow by the hand-wrist-whatever-in-that-area-he-can-get-a-grip on and tug him away from the pool.

It's not until Evangeline is actually being ushered off that that Khavro thinks to say something about the pile of clothes he's carrying. But he only makes a dumb sound at Stefyr and tries to drop the pieces that aren't theirs for the women to find on their own before he's dragged along with literally no protest. In his right mind Khavro would be, will be, disappointed.

Stefyr doesn't stop and doesn't even bother to get a more comfortable grip on Khavro's wrist snaking through training grounds and onto the path toward the beach until he finds a patch of darkness that's- well, dark enough to suit whatever's driving him. Then he's whirling even as he uses that grip on the lean candidate's wrist to tug him closer. There's only a fractional hesitation in wide blue eyes as he looks down at the other boy and tilts his head. He can't quite, even with Leirith's influence (is it ebbing? It might be starting to), claim what isn't actually offered so he brings his face close, close, his lips right there, willing, offering, but waiting.

Khavro drops the rest of the stuff he's been trying so hard to hold onto with one arm when Stefyr rounds on him and pulls him closer. He still seems surprised to be so close to the more muscular candidate, like he was hoping for this but not sure he wasn't being dragged off for that beating after all. And now that he's here, he doesn't let thinking get in the way of acting. Khavro snakes a hand behind Stefyr's neck in the same moment he moves to close that frustrating distance between their mouths.

That soft noise that isn't quite swallowed in the contact of their lips is surely something more manly than a whimper. The blond has no experience; he didn't even get to participate in his own first kiss, it was that fast. But he has a vague idea of what he'd like to feel and he sort of … goes with that. It's probably not as forceful as Leirith's encouragement demands, more like the kiss one would deliver a cheek or a forehead or some other body part less readily able to participate in this act. He's not so lost in this, though, that he doesn't pay attention to what Khavro does and try to mimic that. He is a pretty good learner, after all. There's proof enough of that, even if none of it has had to do with kissing or anything else like that. Thinking doesn't seem to trouble Stefyr either (BUT WHEN DOES IT, REALLY), his hands finding Khavro's waist instead of wrists to instinctively pull him as close as close can get.

Khavro has enough experience to at least try to help Stefyr meet his own uncharacteristic urgency. It's probably good that he's tall enough that he doesn't have to climb the other man like a tree because he might right now, the way he oh so readily presses his body against the other candidate, skin to skin. And then it all kind of hesitates; his lips still, and his head draws back enough to look at Stefyr's chest, but not his face.

Let's be real. There's a lot about this that is super confusing. There's whatever Leirith is feeding the Weyr and Stefyr doesn't even know it's a thing. There's all the things that just happened, which would spin the brain of a smarter man than Stefyr, and then there's this. This needy exchange of kisses in the dark, his hands fumbling a little on the trader's sides and not even knowing what to do with them. When the kiss breaks and there's all that hesitation, it spurs not just hesitation in Stefyr, but an impulse long buried. He's going to RUN. Someone might be proud that he finally found his running ability, but might be equally disappointed by the poor timing of this discover. "I'm sorry. I don't-" He starts and the words just fail. "I don't know-" WHAT. WHAT DON'T YOU KNOW, STEFYR? "Sorry," and then he's slipping away into the dark, walking the first few steps and then running. RUNNING. Good job, Stefyr. Good job.

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