Archives

A remarkable legacy for those with the eyes to appreciate it, Igen's Archives are modest, in proportion to the weyr's similarly modest status; but though they be small, the room itself is mighty, with grandiose portent to the high, vaulted arches. These walls hold many treasures past their prime, from instruments to examples of older flying gear and agenothree tanks. The meticulous task of re-scribing old records is continually ongoing, with faded and disued hides replaced on a daily basis. The chairs and off-kilter tables seem to be heritage of a time long past, not in line with the rest of the vision of this room; but in all weyrs are budgets, and perhaps you've found one of Igen's budget cuts.

R'ye sits at one of the tables near the back, wing charts spread out across a rather large swath of the table. The Archives are quiet, but not silent, as there is a lesson going on across the room. R'ye sorts through the hides, finds what he's looking for and draws it towards him, tapping his stylus thoughtfully on it before writing something down onto his slate. Then he sits back, frowns at it, and grabs for the cloth to wipe it clean.

Michela has finally made her way through 'The Duty and Honor of Weyrwomen' and has made her way to the Archives to return the thick tome. It's not a particularly in-demand book, given the narrowness of the subject and also the limited number of people it can truly apply to, so she winds her way through the shelves and seating areas to the very back of the space, sliding it back onto the shelf next to the other related books. She takes a different path back, or would if that path didn't lead her up to where R'ye is studying? working? something, and she pulls the chair next to him out with a curious, "What's all this?"

R'ye looks up at the goldrider's arrival, and his smile is warm to see her, but shifts to something more frustrated as he looks at the hidework and the slate. "Wing charts," he exhales in a huff. "They've given us one to fill out that is impossible. And I'm sure that's the point, but I can't figure out which one is the… least bad. We'll have to present it, and defend it, and I don't know yet why I want to do what I want to do." Not just making a decision, but explaining it. That's the hard part. He leans back, rolling his shoulders with a slight pop. "How're you?"

Michela looks over the spread of hides and charts with more interest, leaning forward a little to peer at his slate and compare with the wing charts with a thoughtful push of her eyebrows. "That is tough," she agrees, leaning back again, "but good practice, seems like Igen's short for one reason or another a lot of the time." The question gets a brief smile, and a tilt of her head. "I'm fine. Finally finished reading that book about how important weyrwomen are," her nose wrinkles for how that sounds coming out of her own, now-goldriding, mouth, "so hopefully that gives me enough to argue with Inna about whatever thing she's mad about next." Firestone. It's going to be firestone chewing, when that arrives.

R'ye laughs a bit at the nose wrinkle, shaking his head. "They," no, "you are important." Ahh, firestone. Yes, he can imagine that'll be a fight. He looks back at the charts and his slate, and then seems to make a decision, jotting a few things down and eying it with a sigh. "Sometimes there's no good answers, huh?"

Michela shrugs the affirmation off, leaning forward again instead to watch as he jots whatever down. "No, sometimes there are just the least bad answers." The scatter of hides across the workspace reminds her a bit of someone, and she's smiling again when she says, "Maybe this is why Nu'val always has such a messy office, all sorts of least-bad answers to choose from in all those hides." And no wisdom to be had from all those skulls. "How have you been? You got your weyr?"

"Yeah, maybe." R'ye's only been in the Weyrleader's office once, when he broke in with Pasha to look at the rosters. "I've spent candlemarks on just this one formation, I can't imagine having to do it again and again, and names change, people get hurt, people come out of the Infirmary…" It's a crazy mess. "And it's not like you can just sit back and go 'fuck it' and not do it. You've still got to go out there. And if you go out there without enough dragons, more dragons fall. It's such a tight spiral, that can very easily turn into a flat spin if you're not careful or the winds aren't with you." He looks over at her. "Luck plays into Falls more than I thought it did."

Michela nods with another lean back in her chair, pulling legs up to fold them in the space between the chair and the table while she listens. "It sounds stressful," she says at the end, watching him thoughtfully. "No wonder we always…" Her lips push together briefly. "Why it's such a big deal every time a gold goes up. Makes it easier on everyone if there are more to rotate through." The more morbid half of that thought doesn't make it out of her mouth this time. "How do you feel about it all?" The assortment of work gets a point with her chin.

"Because so many die," R'ye finishes the thought for her. He scans the roster, tapping it. "These are all made up names. Our next lesson, they're going to tell us if our wing made it through this fake Fall or not. And if we get any new riders, transfers, what they're like…" He shrugs. "It's interesting, and honestly it could be fun if it weren't so much…" Vague gesture. "Reality." He shrugs again, leaning back in his chair and putting the chalk down, rubbing his hands together so the fine white powder dusts his uniform pants. "It's interesting. It's a puzzle. But it's also very sobering." He glances over at her and finally answers her question. "Yeah, we moved in, I guess. I need a different bed, the one I picked is shit."

There's no sigh for him finishing her thought, just another sober nod of acknowledgment. Michela did notice that she didn't recognize any of the names - it would be an awfully morbid exercise to do with real names - and moves on from the comment with a murmured, "It's like a puzzle." Just with added death. She doesn't react too much to the answer to her question, just asking, "Do you want me to come with you, help you find a better one?" The question of actually coming to see the weyr is shelved for the moment, as she watches his face.

R'ye watches her for a moment, his eyes searching her face before he nods slowly. "Yeah," he finally says, looking away and back to the hides. "Rhaidokksumith just left me up there," he mutters with a low snort, but there's some hurt in his voice, too. "So it was…" Lonely. "Too quiet. And yeah, the bed I got is awful."

"Oh, Ryek." Michela's voice and face soften, leaning over the arm rest of her chair to put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, that must have been lonely." He didn't say it, but she knows, reading through the revision. "What do you need from me? I want to help." That, in place of the variety of problem-solving that her mind jumped to.

R'ye looks down at her hand on his arm, his brows knitting a bit. "Wasn't a good night," he mutters, not looking at her. If he looks at her, the emotions will be too much. Instead, he stands, and starts to gather up his work. "Come with me to the stores?" he asks quietly. If he's going to have Feels, they're not going to be in the Archives.

Michela's own brows knit in turn that it wasn't a good night, but she holds her commentary - and commiseration - for the moment and just nods, pushing her chair back and standing. "Of course, let's find you something nice."

At least nicer, as R'ye gathers his stuff, tucks it all into a folio, and then leads the way out to the stores.

Stores
Only by sheer willpower has this room turned to the better in the last decade — for it once was an ominous room of discord and decay, but no more. Boxes and bins are everywhere, sorted in meticulous order. Glows hang from regular interval, the painstaking commodity of all fanatical storekeepers: light, to better see those who return items they got from Bin A into Bin B. Moisture collects in the air, a long-running war between those assigned to work these halls and the air itself — so far, the workers seem to be winning, but in the end, everyone dies.

If there's one person you want in the stores with you, it's… well, actually it's probably Amelia, she knows them best. But if there's a second person you want in the stores with you, and you ignore the other headstaff, it's Michela, because she certainly spent the month leading up to their new weyr reveals poring over the offerings here. She leads them back to the portion with the furniture, the mix of beds and dressers and tables of all varieties arrayed for review. "Bed first? Did you get any other furniture?"

"I don't know," R'ye answers honestly, setting his folio down and following after her. "I guess some chairs for the ledge? I kind of want something like… I don't know if I'd want to build a wall or something, but the winds are fierce up that high and I don't want anyone falling off the edge looking out at the Bazaar…" He shrugs. "Definitely a bed though. I don't know what I was thinking with the one I got… I did find a bookshelf Amelia said might still be down here. That I like."

"Like the kind of chairs that lean back, that you lounge on?" Despite the more somber tone of their recent conversation, Michela smiles a little at the image of them in lounge chairs up at the of the caldera, fruity drinks in hand and sun hats shading them while they relax. She nods, eyebrows raising encouragingly. "That's good, I'm glad you got a nice bookshelf. Let's start with the bed, maybe a dresser whose bottom drawer works," that part, she's teasing him with, remembering his old apartment and half-working dresser with another smile, "and maybe a little table for next to your bed, so you can keep a glow basket there and be able to read in bed?"

R'ye nods, "Sure, yeah," he says, ambling after her. He doesn't seem… particularly enthusiastic about it all. "Maybe some potted plants. Always liked those in the Bazaar… Something… alive." Maybe he needs one of those kittens that Evie brought.

Michela turns her head, trying to think of where she's seen plant pots in the Stores before. But Innazzurath does not care about plants, so she murmurs, "We can find pots in a bit," and pauses before the array of furniture, turning a look up at him that is half-curious, half-searching. "What sort of furniture styles do you like?" It's a pedestrian question, despite the way she watches him while she asks it.

R'ye shakes his head, walking over to a chair and sitting heavily into it. "Maybe this isn't a good time," he says with a frown, looking around at the cavern and all the choices and questions he doesn't have answers to.

There are, at least, plenty of places to sit in here, ones as of yet unthrown by Eo'han, and Michela takes a seat on a side table next to the chair R'ye sits in. Her voice is softer, but still curious, as she asks, "What's going on, R'ye?"

R'ye glances at her and then away, across the room, and he shakes his head. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then bends forward, scrubbing his face with his hands. It's the shift in his breathing that will be the evidence of his crying.

Michela is silent, but swift, her slide down off of the side table and onto the arm of the chair he's sitting on over in the blink of an eye. She drapes her arm over his shoulders, the breadth of his back, and the other spans the barrier that his forearms make while his hands are on his face. Then she tilts her head against his, rests her face against his hair, and squeezes him gently with that loose encircling, holding the squeeze and kissing his hair.

R'ye shifts to lean against her, holding his hands over his face for a moment and then pulling them free so he can wrap his arms tightly around her middle, pressing his face against her body. He cries quietly, not a man to cry often, or to wail when he does. When he's done he rests his face against her legs, slowly breathing, with that post-cry weakness to him.

At some point in his movement, Michela's hand over his shoulders shifts to move along his back, slow and comforting, while the other adjusts to allow her continued hugging him. She doesn't shush him, or ask him any questions, or even seek to reassure him - she just holds him, and strokes his back soothingly, periodically kissing his hair tenderly. When the crying stops, nothing changes about anything she's doing, waiting for him to be ready to speak.

R'ye finally gathers himself enough to sit up, a long breath in, a heavy breath out. "I don't like it up there," he mutters with a frown. "I'm stuck up there. He just left me." His stupid dragon. "I've got to figure out…" How to get his dragon to take him places and not just abandon him. "And I don't know," he waves a hand at the furniture with a heavy sigh. "I don't know what I like. I liked my room at the Hold, I guess, but that's not me anymore. And my apartment came with that furniture."

Michela is still rubbing his back, just adjusting her hand as he moves, though her hold of him with the other hand releases when he sits up. She chews on the corner of her lower lip as she thinks, releasing the skin after a bit so she can speak. "He's tough. I wish I had an easy answer for you." But as with wing assignments, there are sometimes no easy answers for disdainful dragons who think nothing of abandoning their rider in their weyr. "Maybe you're right, this isn't the right time to look for this stuff. If you want to, we can keep trying, but if you want to do something else, that's fine too. Even if it's just sitting here." Her hand on his back continues its movement.

R'ye sighs, staring across the room with his elbows on his knees, now, hangs hanging loosely between them. "I mean," he says with a faint smirk, "if I'm going to be up there I might as well be comfortable, right?" And not abandoned and alone. "I should get some books and snacks…" A deep breath in, and out. "Right before… we left," he says quietly, "mother and I were planning a redecoration of my room. And we got into an argument because I wanted this ridiculous desk. It was huge, and ornate, and far too expensive, but I wanted it." He glances at her with a faint smile. "I was a brat."

Ah. A puzzle piece clicks into place for Michela, but she just nods through the progression of his thoughts, her hand still moving gently up and down his back. "Most kids are, at one point or another," she says, returning that faint smile, as if she wasn't the baby of the family. She did spend a lot of time with those Bazaar kids when she was a Baker, though.

R'ye shrugs. "I don't want anything like that now," he says quietly. "But I could use a desk. I don't know. Just simple stuff, I guess. Nothing crazy, nothing ornate…" He exhales, leaning against her again. "Last night was hard," he admits softly.

Michela's arms welcome him again, the soothing movement of her hand on his back suspended to pull him toward her, a caring to the hands that resume the hug around the angles that their different positions make between them. She leaves aside pressing on the furniture, focusing on the last part of what he says. "I'm sorry, Ryek, it sounds hard. It's tough, there's been a lot of change, and I know you liked being in the barracks." She hesitates, but decides to share after all. "It's been tough for me too, other than the first night, when you were there." The hug squeezes him a bit more, then relaxes again. "How can I help you?"

R'ye nods, "I did, it was easy to just… look around and see everyone, or walk over and talk to someone." Or stretch out beside Re'my to center them both back to reality and all its truths. He looks up at her, a little surprised. "Tough for you too?" His smile softens and he nods, his head resting against her again. "That first night was so nice," he agrees.

A hand comes up to cradle the side of his head when it rests on her, her fingers running absently through his hair where they rest, and Michela nods understandingly. "It was," she confirms quietly. "My things are all so nice, but I'm still alone. I thought I'd be happy to have nice things and my own space, but.. I've been sleeping on Innazzurath, she makes a little bed with her forelegs." Her mouth pulls to the side, an awkward quirk that doesn't quite reach a half-smile. "I should probably get a different blanket while I'm here, that nice comforter is already getting dusty." But she's talking about herself, not him, and course corrects with another gentle, "How can I help you?"

R'ye exhales softly. "I wonder if the others are having trouble, too," he muses with a little frown between his brows. "I'm glad she lets you sleep with her," he says quietly, with a little chuckle. "No, that blanket is a bed blanket." Not a… sleep with your dragon blanket. Of course, the thought of him snuggling up with Rhaidokksumith is both amusing and sad, so he doesn't dwell on it. "I don't know," he answers quietly, staring at the furniture.

"Well," Michela starts, still moving fingers through hair as she, too, looks around at the furniture. "We could do a few things. We could pick things out together. If it's hard to think about," his story about the argument with his mother top of mind, "then I could pick things out, surprise you. Either way, Inna will help move them. Or," she bends down to kiss his hair again, "we could do something totally different. Go hang out at my place, go watch the sunset somewhere, get something to eat or drink. We'd have to bring a full rider to leave the Weyr, or else I'd suggest that." She pauses there, waiting to see if any of it sounds good, but before she lets the silence truly stretch, she offers, "If he does it again - leaves you stranded - send Kala to me, I'll join you until he comes back."

Did R'ye forget he had Kala? Another attachment who spends most of their time away from him? The gold has been absent since his Impression, pretty much. "Okay," he says quietly, leaning into her again. Then he peeks up at her. "Would you? Just… do it?" Just take care of it? Is he jealous that Re'my's weyr came furnished by his not-father? Hell yes he is.

Michela smiles down at the peek up at her, her face losing the seriousness it's held and replacing with that warmth she has for him. "Of course, sweetie, I'd love to." She's a little hesitant about a specific part of that answer, but bends down to kiss his hair again anyway. "It'll be fun, it won't even have to be mostly gold this time."

R'ye isn't sure how he feels about sweetie, but that's eclipsed by the relief that she'll just… take care of it. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice thickening for a moment until he clears it. Then he laughs. "Not a huge fan of gold," he admits. "More of a silver guy myself…" But she knows his favorite colors.

"Of course." Michela's fingers return to their idle fidget in his hair. "You know I'm happy to help you with whatever you need. And," the movement of her fingers pause for a second, her voice warming with her teasing, "if I'm going to spend time up there too, it'll be nice to know what I'm getting myself into." She rests there with him for a bit, eyes already scanning the furniture around them for ideas, though her prior statement resurfaces sooner than she would have thought. "Can I go up there with you? So I know what space to work with?"

R'ye laughs. "Fair enough. Wouldn't want you walking into something you're not satisfied with," he teases back, knowing she was perfectly satisfied with his shitty apartment. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a nod. "Yeah. I think.. yeah." It's much different taking her up in a 'look what you have to work with' way than a 'look what I did' way. He shifts to get up and then looks down at her, thoughtful. "Do you ever wonder if our dragons would let us ride with each other?"

Michela's expression makes it clear she has. "I've been curious, I think Inna would probably let it happen with you. Is he… around?" She smiles, trying to thread the needle of making a joke about a sensitive subject. "Do you need a ride?"

R'ye shakes his head, standing and reaching for her hand. "He's around," he says with a wan smile, "for now." They both know he won't always be around. "Come on. Please let her know it's a tricky spot to land though, it's kind of in its own cavern, not a ledge jutting into the air…"

Her hand is readily found by his, her smile up at him still there, though more encouraging than before. "That's fine, I'm sure she can manage it." They'll find out, either way!

Rhaidokksumith's ledge

The ledge barely juts into the bowl, the landing needing to be precise to not scrape wingtips or a head against the stone that shelters the ledge. Rhaidokksumith wobbles inside through the tunnel right after he lands, leaving the ledge clear for Innazzurath to land. R'ye waits in the tunnel entrance, watching the queen land with only a hint of trepidation for the tricky arrival.

Innazzurath is not that much longer than Rhaidokksumith, and while her wings are also a bit oversized for her bulk, his wingspan still has her beat and there's a determined watching of how the ash-touched bronze navigates the landing. There's a bit of a sense of barreling in when she arrives, the heave of her weight forward when all four feet find the stone floor speaking to the extra backwing she missed at the end, and Michela winces when the neckridge in front finds her gut. But she pats the gold's neck encouragingly, unbuckling and sliding down with a movement that has become much more practiced over the past seven or so. "That is tricky," she agrees, moving to R'ye while Innazzurath maneuvers herself around in the space so she can look curiously out over the bowl and Bazaar.

Rhaidokksumith can not see the gold's full landing from where he's settled into his wallow, but he can see parts of her as she lands, and his coolness flows beneath her thoughts, leaving her expanse of sky to play with. « Tricky, » he agrees, a little amused by it. « And we are but half grown. » Once she has settled, the bronze emerges along the tunnel to perch beside her, keeping his wings folded despite usually mantling them while he watches. Inside, R'ye gestures around the big main cavern. The dragon wallow to the left, hooks for straps to the right. The glass fronted bookshelf is along the back curved wall, and that's the only nice thing in here. The bed is… terrible. It's just sad. "There's a bedroom back there," he points to the small tunnel at the back, "but it's so small in there I just." He twitches. "I couldn't." Hello, bronzerider studio apartment!

Innazzurath extends her thoughts to him, the spit and crackle at her hard landing fading with Rhaidokksumith's agreement that it's tricky. « We will master it, » she says confidently, though the sandalwood that drifts through with the rest of her smoke appreciates his commentary. She watches as he takes the perch next to her, then settles herself, happy to watch the movement of passers-by below. Michela follows R'ye back into the smaller part of the weyr, looking around curiously. She pokes her head back into the bedroom, thoughtful when she comes out. "This part is plenty big though," is her only comment on the size of the bedroom. "And the bookshelf is nice, I'm glad it was still available." She does not comment on the bed. As Thumper said, if you can't say something nice…

R'ye nods, looking around the big main cavern, "Yeah, it's big enough. I don't mind sharing with him." They've lived together the dragon's entire life, after all. "I don't know why I picked that bed," he says, eying it. Then he grins, mischief in his eyes. "You think she'd enjoy flying it juuuust to the outside of the bowl and dropping it?"

Michela grins back, casting a look back to the tunnel where the gold observes the Weyr from the superior height (not that it's hard, compared to hers) of Rhaidokksumith's ledge. "She's willing, we'll have to see if she enjoys it or not."

R'ye grins, grabbing one corner of the bed and hauling it towards the tunnel exit. "Perfect," he says happily. "Let her drop it, no one will miss it." Rhaidokksumith rumbles and spreads his wings, trusting Innazzurath to duck, before he pushes off the ledge, pushing straight out and falling for a beat before wings catch the air. Taking off is so much easier from a height! He circles, waiting for the gold to get the bed and join him.

Michela laughs, coming up behind the bed to push while he pulls, the gritty sound of the bed frame's legs loud in the mostly-empty space. Innazzurath is certainly game for this, well, game, eyes whirling with interest as the bed arrives and grasping it carelessly in golden paws. She hasn't taken off from a ledge like this before, and she copies Rhaidokksumith's fall with a thrill that sends a splatter of sparks exploding between them as her wings catch the air and she's gliding after the bronze.

« It is a good ledge, » the bronze will admit. To her. Privately. He might not have the pens but he does like the height, and the fall into the air without the lumbering takeoffs he's still trying to master. He circles, lazy, languid, and then soars over the Bazaar. For now, at a height enough to not startle those below. For now. R'ye walks towards the edge of the ledge, a hand on the side that curves to protect it from the wind. "See what I mean?" he says, motioning with a hand. "If there was a wall here, then we could get close enough to look." Without falling to their deaths. "Some chairs, some potted plants… it could be nice?" It's a question as he looks back at her, reaching out a hand.

« I like it, » Innazzurath sizzles back, the arc of the mortar she sends into her night sky high and long before it dips so pleasantly and explodes down further than its highest point. « Mine is not. » A hazy image of the wide, sun-bathed ledge, so close to the ground, that she's allowed fades between them for her eagerness to follow Rhaidokksumith over the Bazaar. Michela follows R'ye, nods, smiling watching their dragons soar off together (even if it's to drop furniture in the desert) and lacing her fingers with his hand. He gets another happy smile, an encouraging one, as she agrees, "It'll be so nice. The view from here is amazing, the sunsets will be so fantastic from this high."

R'ye smiles, drawing her closer to him as their dragons fly juuuust beyond the boundary of the bowl walls. "It can be a good place," he agrees. "Thank you, Chel, for…" everything? Being herself? Being amazing? "I didn't know what to do."

Michela leans into him, her head tilted back so she can smile up at him with a softly loving expression. "Of course, Ryek. We'll fix it up. It'll be a good place, a good place for you, and for him, where you can relax and enjoy things." Even if he has to enjoy them because Rhaidokksumith is off doing whatever he does. Innazzurath waits until they're past enough to not be scolded for dropping furniture where people tend to be, but not so far (thanks to Michela's warning) that the young dragon pair will get in trouble for leaving… and then it's bombs beds away, the rickety old bed landing in the desert with a satisfying shatter of old, spent wood and a less-satisfying thump of the worn mattress following its companion to its death.

And the ratty blankets and pillows flutter down in such a satisfying way. Rhaidokksumith rumbles his amusement at the sight, dipping a wing to soar back over the Bazaar, flapping only to regain some of that lost altitude as he aims for the ledge once more. It will take much practice to land smoothly, and he wants to get his reps in before he gets too big and mistakes will cause costly injuries. R'ye pulls Michela to the side as the dragon returns, his back against the side wall of the ledge and slipping both arms around her. "I love you," he breathes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Innazzurath is amused too, her happiness at the scene booming between them briefly before she turns herself back toward the Weyr, following after the bronze with broad sweeps to propel herself forward that nonetheless lessen when they approach, giving him time to maneuver the landing. Her own landing is less hard than the prior, the backwing successfully managed, though it's still not elegant, the way she re-enters their weyr. She's unbothered, still amused by the explosion of wood, and whuffs at Rhaidokksumith for their shared mischief. Michela wraps her arms around his waist, head leaned against his chest, watching the two dragons interact. "I love you too," she says, but her tone is amused. "I imagine you'd sleep on the floor, since they just dropped your bed in the desert." Now her head tilts back again, looking up at him. "Want to spend the night with me again?"

R'ye grins down at her, his expression mischievous and not at all enhanced by his bronze's amusement at what the gold just did. "Oh no," he drawls, "I have no bed, whatever shall I do?" He laughs. "This sounds like the plot of some sort of romance novel. There was only one bed." Still, he's pulling her closer, a hand brushing hair away from her face.

Michela laughs, an unrestrained one, grin spread wide across her face as she leans back a touch to eye him with such amusement. "Tragic. And very clever, I never saw it coming. If only there was some place for you to stay, some bed that's far too big for me - I mean, someone - to sleep in alone…"

R'ye tsks softly. "If only," he teases, his grin amused and expression light, playful, far more relaxed than the tears from earlier. "Perhaps I could pay for a place to sleep? Perhaps with a kiss?"

"Mmm, yes," Michela agrees, the arms around his waist pulling against him a touch, her grin still sparkling up at him. "I do accept kisses as payment, but my bed is very nice, it might take a lot of them."

"What a pity," R'ye drawls. He bends his head, but his lips don't kiss her lips. Instead they find the side of her neck. "What sorts of kisses count as payment?" he murmurs along her skin.

"All of them," Michela breathes, the shiver that comes with his lips on her neck goosebumping the skin on her arms briefly as she melts against him and her hands move slowly along his back. "It'll just take a lot of them."

"Then we'd better get down to your weyr," R'ye murmurs, his hands bracketing her waist before fingers slip beneath the back of her tunic to caress her skin, "before I'm too lost in you to fly."