Small Gestures

Xanadu Weyr - Weyrling Barracks
A long and roughly oblong cavern. About a third of the space is open, used for classes or chores as required. The rest of the space is filled with couches of varying sizes, all with plenty of space between them. Some couches are obviously intended for the very young weyrlings while the largest ones at the back are for the older weyrlings.

There are supplies for the care of dragons tucked back against the walls. A barrel of oil sits with scrub brushes and soft clothes, and a thick hardwood table is used to prepare meat in bite-sized pieces for the young dragons. There's also a few supplies for the weyrling humans, like bedding for cots or extra pillows for those sleeping on their lifemate's couch.

He might catch V'ro before the other man passes out. Might. It's late, beyond late, and it's been an exhausting day for every last one of the ten weyrlings and others besides. Glorioth is passed out at last in one of the wallows, his mouth open, tongue lolling and generally looking as ridiculous as one would expect of the bronze with the big personality. But he's not here, near Koth and V'ro's chosen spot and that's where F'yr is coming (but slowly, because this space is still so new and so many greens look alike in the dark - DON'T TELL THEM HE THOUGHT THAT) "Khav?" is soft murmur, just loud enough to be heard as he plods to a stop, a plate of something that smells amazing in his hand.

Koth is likewise passed out, finally. But V'ro is not. He's sitting near her, far enough away not to disturb her and accidentally wake her up, staring at her like she's a particularly freakish sideshow at some freaky gather. He doesn't startle when the big blond says his name but the look he turns on the other man is a little confused. Maybe even a little scolding? Can F'yr see that in the dark? "What are you doing? Aren't you hurt?" is his quietly intense response, and he's on his feet in one motion to move closer. If he looks at the plate, it really does smell amazing.

F'yr squints as Khav— no, V'ro comes closer, probably not able to see that expression on his face, but when he comes close enough, he offers the plate as peace offering. "I had to go get my things from the office," because he wouldn't want to be without those items now slung across one shoulder, rather than his chest, his shirt an ink-stained button up blue affair, wet now from the rain without, "and ended up in the caverns. I thought you might be hungry." Meat pies and pasties, all fresh and hot, if slightly damp. He reaches up a hand to rub at his eyes. "Are you okay? You're safe now, from… the other things." Right? Tired, tired blue eyes search the other weyrling's face, worry etched in the folds of his forehead.

V'ro looks down at the plate, then up at the blond. He reaches out to tentatively take the plate with an oddly emotional, "Thank you." Look, it's been a long day (at least since the DRAGONING) and this was really thoughtful. If he wasn't so exhausted, he might be suspicious, but he's just hungry now, so he's already picking off a piece of something with his fingers. He glances back up when F'yr mentions That Stuff, and brushes it off with a simple, "I hope so." But his pale gaze lingers on the blond's face like he's not sure he even knows him at all. But in a good way!

There's really nothing V'ro needs to be suspicious about, all things being what they are. This was, in fact, simply a thoughtful gesture from a friend. "If not, I'm— well. Here, aren't I." There's a tiredly wry something in that because everything is tired and right now, this is a little funny. "I'm sure Glorioth would be on board for anything that gets him real heroics." He'd be on board for anything he could decide was heroic whether it was helpful or harmful to the overall situation, if we're being honest. "At least I'm not at as much risk of being beaten up." That wry humor, that tired wry humor. He looks to the sleeping Koth. "She's beautiful, Khav." He hesitates… "V'ro? Did I hear that somewhere?" Maybe he did. Maybe Glorioth did. Maybe he is just making things up.

V'ro's ability to be suspicious of anything shouldn't be underestimated, but right now he's just grateful. For the food, for not being alone with his thoughts, even, now that the green is unconscious. "Koth, too," he says of heroics, with a fond smile and a glance back toward the passed out hatchling. "I'm not going to let you get beaten up, either way. Not on my account, anyway." What the blond does on his own time is his business. "She's perfect." Of course he's going to think that. "V'ro, yeah. You can still call me Khav, though. At least I'm already used to calling you F'yr." In so much as he's used to calling him anything, granted. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'll sleep soon," F'yr murmurs assurance, one hand vaguely gesturing to the direction of the cot that is surely already sounding a siren's call meant especially for him. "If I can," he grimaces. "Hurts to breath too deep." Or deep at all. He shakes his head as he inadvertently does take a deep breath and gasps his pain. "Getting beat up is starting to seem less glamorous," he admits in the wheezy exhale that follows. "If there's still trouble, there may be some options that don't include my needing to do that." He murmurs, "I checked some things out before… well, before we really knew anything." His eyes fall to the green eyes of the greenrider, because, you see, V'ro, he cared enough to make sure you'd be safe, even if there hadn't been a Koth.

It says something about his current mental state that V'ro is so open with his expressions, with his feelings. Concern furrows his brow as F'yr tells him about his pain, but all the weyrling can do right now is awkwardly hold that plate of food, looking concerned about his friend. It's the rest that really sets him off, though, so hopefully tears don't make things super uncomfortable for the shiny new bronzerider. At least it's just tears and not sobbing or anything ridiculous like that. "Thank you," is all he can really muster up again, but it's so very sincere. Then, despite the plate and despite F'yr's delicate state, V'ro steps in closer to give the big blond the fleetingest of hugs, gently tucking his head for just a moment against the other man's chest, potentially wiping tears on his shirt, before withdrawing again. "You should really sleep. You have your hands full."

"Hey," is soft and a cheek is laid to curly hair as one of F'yr's big arms enfolds the slightly shorter man for just that moment that he wants it, releasing when V'ro moves to step away. Tears don't bother the blond, not even when they're maybe wiped on his shirt that already has an ink stain and probably will be blood-stained within days. There's compassion in his expression when Khav is far enough of a step back for their eyes to meet, but the new bronzerider doesn't let his gaze linger long on the other weyrling's face because maybe V'ro doesn't want to be witnessed quite so openly with his feelings going sideways. "I'll sleep." He agrees. "You should, too." He stays just long enough to add, "Sweet dreams, V'ro," before he turns to walk down to where he can deposit his messenger bag.

The greenrider takes a steadying breath, trying to get himself back together before he wakes up the slumbering beast with his emotions. He has an emphatic for F'yr, "I will," gesturing just so with the plate. He'll sleep as soon as he inhales as much as he can. V'ro watches the other weyrling move through the darkness for a few moments, then follows suit to make the most of the peace while he can.

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