Ixzhulqvoth's Ledge

This ledge is a particularly broad and deep one, sufficient for two bronzes to land on - it might be a little a tight, but it's plenty doable. The stone is scuffed and scarred from turns of use, a relatively vast plane in contrast to the tall, narrow rift of an entrance to the weyr proper. The opening is just wide enough for a bronze to work through, but only just.

For once, Zhikanikoth isn't alone as he lands with a thunk upon Ixzhulqvoth's ledge, talons gouging the rock as he skids into the weyr with a mental « We're here! » coated in stardust and spice. K'shi makes a pained noise as he barely keeps himself from bruising his breastbone on the bronze's neckridge, reaching down to slap at the dragon's neck. "Seriously, dude, I'm here and we didn't suit up first. Ass." Lifting himself off of the beast's bare neck, he slides to the ground, not having even bothered with riding straps for the short flight from his weyr to Khu's. Zeke glances over his shoulder, somehow managing to convey a smug sense of amusement on his draconic visage. « Keeps you on your toes. » Turning his back on his rider, he leaps forward to bowl into his brother, leaving K'shi to pinch the bridge of his nose and step away from the two, waiting for Khu.

It barely takes that brief mental contact to bring Ixzhulqvoth all but barreling out of that weird little bend that is the weyr entrance. Claws clatter briefly on stone and, just as abruptly, Ixzhulqvoth is there and aiming to greet his bronze brother with a customary clash of chest and/or shoulders and/or neck. It's a good thing dragons are generally friendly, or this might just look horrifying. Khu manifests a short time later, dressed down as she tends to be when she's in her personal space. A dress, of course, but long-sleeved, with stockings on her feet to keep the chill out, and a shawl over her shoulders for good measure. There is no surprise for the pair on the ledge; just a smile and a shallow bow before she motions inward. "Come, come. I am just working on cleaning up some notes."

Scraping his fingers through his curls - still tight-packed, but long enough to be tangled from the wind of their travels, the young man casts a glance at his dragon as he meets the brown chest-to-chest. The crash is horrendous, and in any other circumstances, with any other dragons, the dragonhealer in K'shi would be screaming to check keels and ribs, muscles and tendons. But Ixzhul is perhaps the only beast at Igen Weyr capable of meeting Zhikanikoth mass-for-mass, and so all he does is shake his head and leave the two to tussle while he moves to join Khu. "Just hope we're not interrupting anything," he murmurs, a hint of wry laughter in his voice as he steps to her side. "Been a while since we've had a chance to just chat about anything other than wing business."

The ledge was chosen for a reason, after all! Even if getting into the weyr does take some careful navigating. Ixzhul presses to Zhikanikoth, rumbling happily in his strange, subsonic way. Vibration more than sound, but it's there and it is powerful. Like K'shi, Khu glances over at the pair, mouth pulled just a touch to one side with a concern that will always be there - but not necessary to be acted on. "No, you are not interrupting anything," she replies, though there is a brief distancing of her gaze; the neural handshake is checked, linked to another, and ultimately deemed to be clear. The shrug is adjusted slightly, her shoulders nicely covered with the thick, crocheted material. "My evening is clear," she clarifies with a soft laugh of her own, "and the notes can wait. I am glad to see you, Vash. And I am glad that there is still anything to talk about that does not involve the wing." Her grin slides a little to one side and, as he steps in close, she wonders, "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about? Or shall I get some tea going?"

Silence hums, content, as K'shi looks around. He's been here before; visiting is as inevitable as the sunrise, so it's not curiosity that stills his tongue. Finally, he sighs, scrubbing at the back of his neck. "Maybe a few things," he admits, "but I also missed you. You're the best friend I've got, after all. Who else am I supposed to share all of my juicy gossip with?" He grins, a flash of white teeth and sparkling dark eyes before his gaze roams away again, climbing up the walls and dancing over the tangled forms of bronze and brown. "Tea wouldn't be amiss though - unless you've got some wine squirreled away," he teases, knowing better.

It's a comfortable silence on both parts; Khu is perfectly settled to just stand out here, on the ledge, and watch the pair of dragons as they wrestle against the slow, inevitable slide of Rukbat. Her smile softens, though, and she angles a look askance to K'shi before reaching over to press a hand to his shoulder and give it a squeeze. "It is hard, this work that we do. It is easy to let things fall to the wayside. But. You are my best friend, too. It just means we have to make more of an effort - like they do." The boys, that is. It's just easier for them. She pushes away from the wall and turns for the bent entrance. "I am sure there are plenty who would pay for a hint of the gossip you have," she adds with a laugh. "I would offer gossip in trade, but I have none." Well, none that he doesn't already know - and all of that pertains to their fellow weyrlings. "Tea, yes. Liquor, yes. Wine, no." A beat. "Do you like brandy? I have some of that, too."

"Maybe a dash in the tea," Vash muses. "I've only had it sparingly - mostly foisted off on me when I was in dragonhealer training, as I had to 'be a man'." He snorts indelicately, shaking his head. "I think they just wanted to see how I was with a drink in me for their amusement." Joke's on them - the boy is a quiet, sleepy kind of drunk. His chuckle is low, his dark eyes filled with humor as he eyes his friend thoughtfully. "I can think of some as would pay well for some of the gossip I've heard - but I'd never think of charging you. In the end," he adds, glancing towards the brothers as he follows in her steps, "you'll find it out anyway, I have no doubt." Indeed, he might be a bit surprised she doesn't seem to have heard the biggest… rumor… he's carting around in that head of his.

The Breach

A slightly curving passageway connects ledge to weyr. The rift in the rock opens abruptly, bubbling and swelling into a high-ceilinged space that echoes loudly and easily. Shelves and nooks are carved into the rock, with hooks embedded in other places that are suitable for leathers and straps to be hung. The immediate space is for the dragon-half of the equation, with a rush-filled wallow, rather than a couch. Dragoncare items occupy the left wall entirely, from straps to paddles to oil and more. The rider's leathers, too, are arranged in that space, helmet and goggles and all with their own special places.

A full three-quarters of the weyr is for the dragon for reasons that are obvious to those that know the beast in question. The rest - to the right of the entrance - is cordoned off with a privacy screen of wood. On that side, there is a table and a pair of chairs; the table is oft-covered in hidework of various types, while the chairs are adorned with well-worn cushions. An old, abused wardrobe is pressed against the far wall. The bed is modestly-sized, but burdened with entirely too many pillows.

A couple of braziers are available for heating and limited cooking purposes; little more than charcoal-fueled bowls of fire, elevated and with a convenient lid to snuff them out. Light is provided through a combination of glow-baskets and oil lamps, and the entire weyr smells pleasant overall, with a combination of draconic, spicy hide and something sweet, like vanilla and lavender. This is a weyr that is kept clean and neat, with places for everything - and everything in its place.

"Mm." It's a familiar, familial kind of hum, uttered as she leads the way into the strange space that is the weyr proper. "I think we give and take enough that to put a price on it would be impossible," Khu muses along the way, with a backwards glance angled his way. A ghost of some yellowed bruise lurks just at the edges, of the shifted shawl, but it's there and gone in a second. "And perhaps that is true. But, sometimes, I wonder if they have begun to learn." Does she know the rumor? The gossip? If she does, she doesn't betray any awareness of it. Then again, her own situation is one that's been kept tightly under wraps (on her part, at least) and Ixzhulqvoth has been remarkably quiet on that front, as well. "It is elderberry," she adds of the brandy, which might be telling enough in its own right, perhaps. But, once they're within the space proper, she sets about to get the tea ready, while one or another of her firelizards is dispatched to scrounge up snacks of a sort. "So. Are you well? You did not look particularly comfortable at the last lesson."

Choosing one of the chairs in which to sit, K'shi settles down, watching her prepare the tea as he stretches his legs before him, sprawling comfortably. If he saw the bruise, he says nothing; if she wanted him to know about it, she would tell him. "I wouldn't even know where to start pricing out gossip. I've learned I suck at bargaining - I'd rather leave that to… others," he replies, his expression just a bit shuttered as he casts his gaze away from her, around the room, before returning his gaze to her, thoughtful. "Zeke's begun to surprise me," he admits, "with what he's keeping in that void he calls a mind. It's a good trait in a healer's dragon - provided I'm able to convince them to let me continue my training," he sighs.

There is a ritual to it, though not so formalized as some Ancient Terran cultures. "Barter and bargaining is not for everyone." Matter-of-fact, that, with Khu tilting a look his way while the kettle is put on one of the braziers to heat. Meats and cheeses are eventually laid out, charcuterie-style, on the table. "You should speak with my brother. I am good at it, but he was trained to be better at it." And while her question is not answered, there is a thoughtful noise all the same for what he does offer instead. "Ixzhulqvoth is changing, too," is soft, but not concerned. "I think he will be a good help, too. I am certain they will allow us to train properly as dragonhealers, though. There is always a need - and I doubt they will be so quick to throw a wingleader or wingsecond's knot on us as soon as we are tapped."

"Faranth forfend," Vash replies with a shudder, a dull flush creeping up his neck at the thought of such a promotion. Of course that's why. Why else would he be blushing? "They're growing up. We're all growing up," he adds softly, tilting his head down to look at the toes of his boots, his feet jiggling slightly with an impatience not his own. Someone isn't pleased with this verbal dance which the bronzerider's engaged in - and K'shi doesn't give a damn what Zeke thinks. "That last lesson was hell, and I ought to shun you after you ducked out so fast," he adds, his voice just a little flat. "I'll have you know Neeva propositioned me after you left." He's neither scandalized nor disgusted, but it's clear the memory is not one that brings any comfort or pleasure. "The lecture was bad enough."

That jiggle is plenty telling to Khu, though, and she eyes it for a few long moments before the kettle shrieks with done-ness. It's retrieved and the process of setting up cups, placing tea balls, pouring water, and adding a hit of brandy (to one) and herbal-infused liquor (to the other) begins. The blushing, too, is noted, filed away with the other particulars. "I did have other matters to tend to, Vash," she points out, carefully neutral. "But, if I had known she was going to do that, I would have stayed to protect your virtue." Teasing, but gently; coupled with a tip-tilted kind of smile that gleams in her eyes. "Perhaps it is good that no one is assuming things of us, if someone is willing to chase you down, mm?" It was a very real concern for a while; perhaps it still is, in some ways.

Again, silence; this one not quite so comfortable as Vash stares at his jiggling feet, lips set in a tight line. "It doesn't bother me," he finally sighs. "I haven't gone out of my way to discourage the rumors. I haven't encouraged them either," he hastens to add, glancing up quickly at the brownrider, "but it didn't inconvienence me, so I didn't see any reason to say anything. Anyway, I figured…" He trails off, eyes narrowing pensively, but he doesn't finish that thought. "I'm not interested in any of the other Weyrlings that way, not even for a bit of fun or… "learnin'"," he adds, lips twisting in a smile that holds little of humor. "I brushed her off - maybe a bit more brusquely than I would have liked to, but she took me by surprise. I'll have to apologize," he sighs, before Khu can take him to task.

"Mm." The tea balls are dunked a few times, the herbs allowed to steep a while before she fishes them out. Khu delivers the brandy-splashed cup to his side of the table before she takes up the other chair, both hands folded around her own, vaguely paint thinner-scented cup. "In that, we are the same, I suppose. One way or the other, enough of them seem to have been dissuaded." One corner of her mouth twitches slightly, mostly obscured by the lifted cup. An eyebrow lifts just a touch for that trailing, the threads of that thought worried over a bit, but not enough for her to articulate. And he does know her well; just as her lips part to offer that suggestion, he's already claiming it and she dips her chin in a shallow nod. "I am sure she will understand. Better if you can find someone suitable to redirect her interests, yes?" But, there is a bit of a pause there before she wonders, "If not one of the others, then who are you interested in?" The question is followed by a sip of stiffly doctored tea, dark eyes gone inscrutable - and just visible above the rim.

There's two sides to the razor that is a close friendship, and K'shi's dark eyes flinch just slightly as Khu reads him too rightly and asks a question he's not sure he's ready to answer. He reaches out to take his tea in his hands, curving lean fingers around the mug as he blows at the faintly scented steam before sipping. The heat - both temperature and alcohol - hits him and he sucks in a breath, lips curving despite himself. "I hope she will. The whole damn experience was pretty awkward, especially the way she asked. But the truth was the truth - I wouldn't have done her justice, and as my mother would say, two virgins in the bed is one too many." He gives a grim little smile. "Of course, I doubt she expected me to stay so this long, but…" He trails off, shrugging. One would think such a subject would be taboo in this mixed company; truly, it's as much a sign as any that Vash does not look upon Khu with any interest, romantic or otherwise.

The tea is good. The brandy is good. The pairing is well-matched - but not surprising, considering Khu's particular line of work. Her mouth remains unreadable, hidden behind the cup. Another sip is taken, sympathy pulling at her features some for her imagining of the event. "She was also very nervous," she observes. "The awkwardness can be forgiven - but your mother is also not wrong. There was a similar saying in our family, but it involved caprines." Either wildly impolite or simply poorly recalled; in either case, she doesn't delve into it much, the implications serving better. He trails off and silence works its way along, thoughtfulness setting itself in a crease between her eyebrows. Eventually: "You are not entirely alone in that, Vash." She wets her lips cautiously, then lowers the cup, removing the emulation of a veil to expose her face. Trust: it's necessary at all times, but critical here. "I did not have my first kiss until-" she clicks her tongue, as if to count "-a month ago? So." He can take of that what he will.

It has to happen. Vash knows this, but as the dark-eyed lad gazes upon this girl - his first, best friend, the lifemate of his dragon's other-self - he quails, turning his gaze into his cup and seeking solace - and courage - in the brandy flavoring his tea. He takes a long swallow, then sets the mug on the table, the bottom clinking softly against the surface as his fingers tremble just slightly. "Yeah, well, I might as well have just had mine an hour before that damninable lesson," he replied hoarsely, folding his fingers together in his lap to hide their nervous shivers. "I mean - I experimented as a kid. Holdbred - we do, but never…" He's babbling; he knows it, and bites his words off with an audible click. Courage to tell her? Not even at the bottom of a bottle. Cowardly, cowardly K'shi.

But, where he downs the rest of the drink, Khu sets hers aside. She leans slightly forward, but only just, her knees together and her hands resting lightly on them, digits laced. Straight-backed and square-shouldered as ever, there is a softness to her bearing all the same. "Vash." The name is offered in familiar hues of that not-quite-Igen accent, though without the sense of a purr. "There is nothing wrong with that, but I know you know that. Up here." She taps a knuckle to the side of her head. "So why are you so-" she clicks her tongue again, as if feeling out words and finding them wanting. She settles, lamely, on, "-so this?" The concern is real and she finally offers her hands to him, palm up. "It is okay if you do not want to talk about it now, too. But I will worry until you do." So. You know. No pressure or anything.

"Fuck, Khu, you know where to stick the knife." Vash is never one for harsh language, nor for the irritation snapping in his dark eyes - directed not at her, but inward, at himself. Leaning forward, he reaches out to slide his finger around the rim of his mug, tracing the smooth porcelain with one calloused fingertip. "Yeah. I know there's nothing wrong with inexperience. That's not - " He bites off his words again, eyes narrowing as he finally lifts his gaze to study the young woman's face, ghosts of another seen in her features, heard in her voice. "You are my best friend. I would do almost anything for you. But I'm afraid of what you will ask of me." And lest she mistake his words, he sighs, a gust of breath that hisses through his teeth, and speaks his secret. "Khu. I… have been… I might be… involved… with your brother. Hallekan." Just in case she needs clarification, you know?

There is a quirk of her mouth at that - it's quickly schooled, but dark humor lurks there. And if the situation were not this, she might well have expanded on it, maybe twisted it into a joke. But, instead, Khu settles on a comfortable, familiar kind of silence, the patient kind that invites words to fill it. Her hands withdraw slightly, palms pressed together, fingers laced loosely together and elbows on thighs. Leaned forward, fully, but better to study his face, to absorb his words. Reassurances sit just behind her teeth - until the other shoe is dropped. That's enough to straighten her again - hands on lap, knees together, chin up. Her tongue works a little in her mouth, but it takes a little longer for her to pick out the words. Maybe too long. Maybe uncomfortably long, though her expression softens in that span of time. "I am grateful," she says after that too-long time, her words meted out with a careful weight, "that he trusts you. That you are his first."

But where is the anger? The betrayal? The insult? For a brief second of madness, Vash stares at Khu, almost hurt by her apparent indifference. Then he slumps in his chair, raising one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, waiting through her silence, silent in turn as she speaks. "As he is mine," he murmurs hoarsely, "in any way that's true. Khu." Her name, a single word, but spoken with such weight, such affection - love, truly, the love of friend for friend, family for family. He drops it between them as he lowers his hand, meeting her gaze with his. "I don't want trouble between us. I… like… him." Her name spoken, but not his. "I am interested in him. I want to explore what there is between him and me. But not - never - at the expense of us."

The tea she'd left earlier is taken up and drawn down in a slow - but uninterrupted - swallow. It's a stalling tactic. She knows it. But Khu needs every second, every support, she can get to maintain that neutrality. Her eyes slide shut, lower lip momentarily sucked in to be chewed. "Be gentle with him," is not her first choice of words; there is a ghost of something under there, bittersweet and edged, but she is terribly, terribly careful with it. Her eyes are dark, but mostly shuttered, holding on his, but unreadable. Her throat works and her next words are softer. Kinder. That affection is reflected; echoes of that same love shared. Perhaps they cannot speak it as plainly as their dragons do - but it is near enough. "Just- be gentle with him, Vash. That is all I will ask of you." The bottle of rotgut paint-thinner herbal-infused liquor - is taken up but, this time, she just takes a full and proper pull. It's offered, as is only right. "Our childhood was not kind," is an understatement, flatly delivered. "But I understood him before he did. I suffered for that knowledge. For him." There are stories - but not tonight.

"I would do almost anything for you." It needs reiterating, but in the end, Vash is grateful that she did not ask the one thing it would hurt to give her, and he lets out a soft breath, dropping his gaze away from hers again. "I will not hurt him if I can help it. I know -" He cuts himself off, dark eyes rising to meet hers, midnight-dark with the knowledge he's gleaned over these past turns from her and him and their dragons. "I will do my best," he finally exhales, before reaching out to accept the bottle. He studies it with thoutghtful eyes, then drinks, a strong pull ending in a soft cough, head turned, as he hands it back. "Well," he finally mutters, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling, "maybe you'll have my back if either of my parents take it amiss. I doubt my mom will, but…" He trails off, unable to articulate the rest.

"Good. Because he does not need more hurt in his heart." The drink is not particularly pleasant and goes down with a burn - but it doesn't linger. That he takes it as well as he does is a mark in his favor, noted in some internal ledger or another. The bottle is taken and set on the table. Khu studies it, sidelong, as if considering the benefit of another pull; it's left alone, but it takes a while for her to get there. And whatever words she might have offered just wither away at his next. A faint noise clicks at the back of her throat. "If you want me there when you tell your mother, I can be there." One corner of her mouth tweaks upward, though, a faint smile forming before she can catch it. "And I can talk K'vre down, if it comes to that. But. I do not think he will protest much." Pause. "Though- it is a strange situation." Another understatement - and she's definitely not talking entirely about K'shi and Hallekan here.

Humming in his throat, K'shi weighs Khu's offer as he leans back in his chair once more, kicking his feet before him - no longer jiggling; apparently Zeke's been satisfied by the sharing of secrets - and studying the tabletop with a distant gaze. Ultimately: "No, I don't think I'll need you there when I speak with my mother. If I know her, she's known longer than I have." His voice is dry, with a hint of the affection that always colors his tone when he speaks of his mother. There's little doubt where Zhikanikoth's particular idiosyncracy about his dam has come from. As for the second offer, dark eyes watch the brownrider thoughtfully. "If anyone could talk K'vre around, I imagine it's you." There's nothing in his voice that suggests that he knows any more than he should. "However, I wouldn't want to put you in that position. I know things between you and him are…" He trails off, gesturing aimlessly towards the air. "Strange." To borrow shamelessly of her word.

It's a good thing, this exchange; some internal pressure is eased, one that Khu might not have realized that she had. Perhaps from Ixzhulqvoth; perhaps something else. A faint smile arises at that tone, though; it's a wistful, rueful kind of thing. She can't know what that feels like, not really, but it's nice to hear. "As you like. If a peace offering might help, my collection is yours to explore." She motions vaguely toward the curtained off area; a workspace, of course, filled with all those wonderful things she has had precious little time to work on of late. But talk turns more fully to K'vre and, there, her smile pulls, curving just a little more in spite of herself. Neutrality wars against something deeper and it's the latter that wins, leaving a rosy stain on her cheeks and throat. "Things are- what they should be, now. With him and me. Settling." And happy, from the sounds of it, if diplomatically described. "I would be happy to talk to him about it, if that is what you want. It is no imposition to help you, Vash. As you would do for me, I will do for you. Always."

Eyes narrowed, K'shi sits forward abruptly, studying the brownrider's blush with fascination. "About fucking time," he states, deadpan. Pun absolutely intended, folks. It should be awkward, realizing your best friend is doing things with your dad that you're just now starting to contemplate with her brother - no, wait, the twists and turns here are more than even the convoluted minds of K'shiZeke want to comprehend. Out in the weyr, tangled and twisted with his brother, the bronze sends a shockwave of star-matter and spice to disrupt the fog of Ixzhulqvoth's fens. « You kept this from me? Really? We all knew it was inevitable. » Shock and disappointment weigh heavy, even as the bronze shoves his nose against his brother's keelbone and snorts. "Let me drop it on him first. If he has a fit, then you can come work your wiles or whatever it is you… do… with him." Some things really don't bear much thinking about. "Man, Khu, are you happy?" Asking the BIG questions, here.

"There was- that. Yes." Deadpan in return, but the neutral expression cracks after and Khu lifts a hand, flapping it in a vaguely dismissive way. Let us not think about all of those entangled ties, either. That way lies strangenees of a kind that she does not care to dwell on. It's like 'Turns of Our Lives' up in here, all of a sudden. Ixzhulqvoth is braced for that blast of starstuff and disappointment, the beasts of his mind well and truly bolstered in their chitinous armor. « She told me not to. » and it's rare that the thorns are enforced, but they are there, writhing beneath the fog and bright. « You didn't tell me about that either. » he does add, though without the same force of disappointment. Cool. Observing. Maybe a little huffy, but he'll live. He'll still lean into that press of nose to chest, though, and return it with a solid press of his snout to the bronze's shoulder. Within, Khu works her fingers through her hair, tugging the curls into some sense of neatness that will not last. "Mm. I think he will not be as concerned as you think he will," she theorizes, but it's pure speculation. "I-" no, she will not get into details, just as she will never ask about what they get up to "-yes. Very." And she can't not laugh a little, briefly covering her face as if that might somehow stifle the sound, the smile, the all of it. That she's sniffing is- well. No, that's definitely some awkward, happy sniffling as the reality of it finally, finally seems to sink in.

« Well, it was… awkward. » Zhikanikoth might be a little better attuned to human sensibilities than his alien-minded brother(s); enough, at least, to realize that that had been news that it was up to K'shi to break. « I'm sorry, though, » the bronze sighs, curving his neck to nuzzle his head up against his brother's shoulder. « I shouldn't get annoyed. It's one thing to share everyone else's secrets, but thiers - no, we're right to be careful. They will tell all, anyway, » he adds with absolute, if misplaced, certainty. « They are us, only without the wings. And hide. And ability to go everywhere and anywhere at the drop of a hat. So, not quite as good as us. But good enough. » Inside the weyr, K'shi's expression suggests that the bronze is not-coincidentally leaking this whole conversation to his rider, a spate of wholly-inappropriate-for-the-moment laughter bitten back and held behind tightly clenched teeth until the bronzeling is able to keep himself under some semblance of control. "Well then, that's all that matters," he says finally, his voice just a little choked, just a little hoarse. Hey - it's hard to bite back a laugh sometimes. "You deserve it, Khu," he adds, his voice and expression settling into a more serious mien. "No one deserves it more. And him?" He smiles abruptly, although humor is decidedly absent in that baring of teeth. "I can take him if I have to. Just remember that." Just in case you needed a good belly laugh, Khu.

« It is okay. There is nothing to apologize for; we did good by them. And they are bad at keeping secrets from each other. We still got what we wanted - it just took a little longer. » Silence unspools, then comes a slyly inked: « Was there biting? » That's really what Ixzhulvqoth wants to know, now that the dam has been breached and his interests are fully engaged. « There was biting with Her. » Awkward? Never. Nuzzling ensues, brown on bronze, with the former uttering a steady, low rumble of satisfaction. « They are like us. » Though he, helpfully, diagrams all of the differences as he understands it, which is probably equal parts fascinating and upsetting to see nude, line art diagrams of human bodies floating on the bright-gloom with highlights and transcriptions. No, no wings, no telepathy, none of the fun stuff - but with their own kind of fun stuff. « Humans are proddy a lot. » And, gauging from the shift in sniffling to choked laughter - half-horrified, half-delighted - Khu's getting a fair bit of it in turn. A quick scrub at her face gets the worst of the happy tears out of the way, a sharp sniff sounding as she tries to get her composure back in place. But the giggles - giggles, Vash - will inevitably rise again. But, for a few moments, seriousness meets seriousness. "You deserve the same happiness, Vash. And I hope Hallekan will be able to give that to you, too. So, you can feel the same." But then- oh. Oh no. She will not dispute that K'vre has earned his happiness - but the idea of K'shi taking him? That brings up the giggles. "I would rather you take Hallekan, if it is all the same to you."

Fascinated, Zhikanikoth shamelessly swallows those ink-etched drawings, pulling them into that voracious maw he calls a mind, into the bottomless, endless pit of knowledge he hoards away as so many other dragons might rocks or plants or panties. This is his true treasure-trove - that collection of stolen goods stocked carefully in K'shi's storage room is naught more than trophies of his triumphs over those unable to safeguard their posessions from the stealthless bronze. In return, starshine illuminates forms - slim and cautious, tentative in touch even as they meet together in a kiss - a memory, vague now with the distance of days, but still lingering to be shared. « Not so much for them - no biting, no wrestling, no joining. Pfaw. You get all the luck. » K'shi's face is so bland, it shouts his dragon's preoccupation to the mountaintops. "Do you ever wonder if we should have just turned around and walked off the Sands before it all began?" he asks of Khu lightly, dropping his head as he digs around in his pockets for something - anything - with which to occupy his hands. Pulling free a mark, he sends it spinning across his knuckles, distracting himself from his dragon's oversharing. "I'll be happy to take Hallekan," he adds, that dull flush creeping up his neck. "Just as soon as I - uh…" He lets out a breath. "Well. Anyway."

Oh. It gets better once Ixzhulqvoth is made all the more aware of that trove, of that particularly bright treasure. It is a treasured thing, indeed, and while he doesn't dare to take mental hold of it, he's dazzled by the starshine and illumination all the same. His renderings might be crude in their material, but not in the rendering; in that, he seems to draw heavily from Khu's artistic skills, renderings made in startling black and white. All those things that Zhikanikoth laments are depicted - faceless and stripped of most detail, but heavy in sensory inputs. He might not be allowed to replay some memories in full, but no one said anything about artist renditions! « Soon. I am sure it will be soon. » Khu is a veritable mirror of K'shi at this point, control finally shifting into place. Deadpan: "Sometimes, I think that might have been better." Not really. But, still. Still, while K'shi fiddles for something to occupy his hands with, she pushes to her feet under the pretense of needing to stretch. And something of that blush, that phrasing, draws an unexpected quirk to the corner of her mouth. Trellis clatters to the table briefly - snitching a meat from the long-forgotten tray of meats, and leaving a thick bottle of something. It's the bottle that Khu leans to take, but only to place on the table next to Vash. "That will help. Unless that is not quite what you mean."

"Is it poison? That might help right now." Zeke is sharing. Zeke is OVERSHARING, with everyone, because right now, everyone is an extension of his own self. Ixzhul-as-brother. K'shi-as-lifemate. Khu-as-Khu. (She's her own category. Judge ye not.) "Not sure whether to use it on me, or him, though." Vash catches the mark between finger and thumb, dropping it back into wherever his pouch is concealed as he reaches out to pick up the bottle, studying it thoughtfully. In the weyr, Zhikanikoth swallows Ixzhul's renderings, dismantling them to their base elements and storing them away into the black hole of his psyche. In return, he offers sensations; faint, memories of memories at this point, but he can still share the tingle up the spine, the weight in belly, the stirring of groin and the lump in the throat at the touch of desire. These are not depicted in starshine, nor coated in a glitter of spice; no, these are pure feelings, singing through the nerve-center. « I wonder when a green will fly, » muses the far too precocious bronze. « I've been listening. It's not fair that they get all the fun. »

"It is not poison," Khu (unfortunately) reassures. "And even if it were, it would not be enough for him." Sorry, K'shi. That's just how it goes. "Oil. Good oil." The quality of it will be apparent if it's tested; clear, scentless, with a good weight and flow. And it lingers, longer than the stuff that's typically used on dragons and firelizards alike. She does not elaborate further, leaving him to take it and study it at his leisure. She busies herself with a little bit of tidying up (which involves reassembling Trellis on her bed, because it's Trellis). Ixzhulqvoth is fascinated by all of those feelings, those tingles and pings and pangs. His experience is different, his rider's gender highlighted in a different buzzing of sensation; a lower heat, shuddery waves of feeling. From tingles and stirring, all the way to blinding heights, where not even the neural handshake can possibly do justice to it. But, they're dragons and this is a weirdly academic exercise in many ways; a comparing of notes, shared curiosity, and that mention of greens draws a carnal sound from the brown. Something is finally online. « There was one earlier today, » he replies, thoughtful. It was quick, though; he was still in straps by the time he was aware and it was over before the idea of attempting a chase was fully fledged. « Maybe tomorrow. »

« Damn. How'd I miss that? » Zhikanikoth is very upset - more at the idea that some kernal of knowledge was lost before he found it than the fact that he missed a greenflight. Those, at least, he's pretty sure aren't terribly uncommon. « Next time, let a guy know. And I'll do the same. » Will even the rush of a mating flight be enough to shake the bond between these brothers? An interesting experiment for another time, as Zeke sprawls on the floor of the weyr and drapes his tail across his brother's back, the tail ever twitch, twitch, twitching away. Inside, K'shi's lips purse and he opens the stopper of the bottle, rolling it carefully in his hands as he studies the clarity and consistency of the oil. Although he's not familiar with the various uses of body oil, he's familiar enough with what seperates good from bad - after all, such oils are used in healing as well as pleasure. "I suppose I'll figure out how to use it," he muses, recapping the bottle and squirreling it away in one of his various pockets. "Maybe I'll have a talk with one of the healers. I wouldn't want to screw anything up." He twitches slightly. "Stop SHARING with me, you bloody base-minded beast! Keep it in your own pants, stars!"

« It was over pretty quick, » is grumped. « Some blue just up and got her like that. » There is no snapping of talons, but the click is there. Audible. Irritated. Ixzhulqvoth settles in alongside Zhikanikoth, with some casual resting of an appendage over the bronze. Tail, wing, whatever; he's comfortable and, in contrast to Zhikanikoth's twitchiness, he's utterly still (unless he starts to move, then it's all over). « Next time, though. Yes. » Promises made, writ in ink, scattered on bright-gloom. "Mm." Khu nods, though there might be something else lurking behind the sound. It passes, though, unasked for advice being swiftly dismissed before it risks touching her tongue. "The Healers will be of great help," she agrees, instead, offering Vash a soft smile that shifts to momentary startlement for that twitching and outburst. A look is snapped dragonwards, brow furrowed. She's blushing again, at something or another, but she schools her expression into a dead mask. "… perhaps poison would be the better option." Grim, that.

"Okay, I'm taking him away before we lose all blood anywhere else in our bodies," Vash declares, rising lithely to his feet and doing a quick pocket check that somehow involves not only his pants, but his jacket and what lies beneath as well. Just how many hidey-holes does he have in his gear? Well. It is K'shi. "Look. Whatever else happens, you're my best friend. K'vre may have sired me - and Faranth knows I do… respect… him (aww, can't say that L word?) - but I also've only known him a few turns. So… it's not so weird as maybe it should be." It's plenty weird though - his eartips are on fire. "And if you want me to keep whatever it is with me and Hallekan between him and me, and away from us - that's fine. I understand." Not that the idea makes him happy; it's a mere glimmer in his gaze, but the displeasure that thought evokes exists. "But I'm always here for you. Whatever you need, just say the word. Zeke can always find you, no matter what."

"I was just about to suggest that they go for a dip in the lake," Khu replies, a glance slanted askance to the pair. Her regard settles on Vash while he checks his pockets, though she's not about to make a guesstimate about how many pockets he has; if anyone has Leathers of Holding, it would be him. She waits until he's done before she steps forward slightly, a hug on offer - one-armed, as a test, but promising to be a full hug if he's agreeable. "Vash. It may be weird, yes, but it is us - and them. Together." She laughs, soft and low. "And because it is us and them, it is going to be weird." And that's okay. More than okay. Khu's made her peace with it; she's come a long way from the taciturn, apologetic, and mousy trader she was when she arrived all those turns ago. "I do not want you to keep your happiness from me, Vash. I just want you to be and be happy. That is all I will ever want for you and for K'vre," and the boys, but that's assumed. "I am always here for you, too. We are, always. Like Rukbat, we will be there to light your way." « Or give your enemies a nasty burn, » Ixzhul adds, helpfully.

Glomp. Is K'shi okay with a full hug? Hell yeah, as he demonstrates by ignoring that one-armed gesture and throwing both of his arms around her enthusiastically. Whatever reticence he once felt seems to have faded; is it because she's now with K'vre, that he's pursuing Hallekan, or any such combination of the two? Whatever the cause, he has no issues with showing his affection for her, although it's a glomp and go; he doesn't linger, but then, has he ever? "No, I need to go deal with a few things - rattle a few brains," he sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he steps back, casting a wry glance at the brownrider. "Hunt down the good Weyrleader at some point in the very near future, before the inevitable gossip reaches his ears first." And how will the grapevine shudder when it is no longer pairing brownling and bronzeling, but rather the convolutions that have arisen instead? "And Zhikanikoth and I will always be there to clear the skies for you, Khu," he replies, affection coating his voice as he backs towards the curve leading outwards. « Nothing can withstand me! » comes Zeke's enthusiastic exclamation, along with the draw of gravity against the edges of their minds.

It's a hug that is quick to grow fierce in its own way; despite appearances, Khu shares far more in kind with Ixzhulqvoth than most will ever know. In the moment, it's that ferocity and strength, a hug returned without any hint of reluctance or hesitation. Brief, as it must be, but it speaks volumes. "Go, then. And if I should see him before you do, I will let him know that you are looking." Yes, they could probably use dragons for this, but who knows how that will actually go. The beans might just be spilled along the way and then what? "Rukbat light your way always, Vash. And clear skies. … and do not forget that we need to review some formations tomorrow." She steps back a little, granting space, while Ixzhulqvoth reluctantly heaves himself to his feet. He noses at Zeke, whuffs, and intones with a grim inking and bone-deep vibration, « And nothing can stop me. » Together, they are unstoppable. Always.

The unstoppable Force and the immoveable object. A great cosmic joke, writ large in dragon-form and Impressed to the two most unlikely suspects in this or any other far, far away galaxy. K'shi gazes for one brief moment at Khu, his expression some amalgamation of affection and amusement. "I appreciate it. Clear skies, and, uh… may Rukbat light your path." He's learning. They're all learning - sometimes a little too much for comfort's sake, but that's how family is. And whether they wanted it or not, they ARE family, almost incestously so. As Vash bobs his head, then ducks away, Zhikanikoth comes to his feet, pacing away from his brother to give his rider room to clambor up his side and settle himself between those sith-shadow neckridges. « We are always, » intones the bronze, eyes sparkling blue-green with delight as he paces towards the ledge - then abruptly hurdles himself off with a wordless shout, followed by K'shi's very vocal, very startled yelp. « I've GOT you, blast it! »