==== February 21, 2014
==== K'vvan, Cha'el
==== Cha’el returns to his weyr to find K’vvan gone and tracks him down to find out why to a bittersweet conclusion. (Occurs the same day as Frown To A Smile )

Who K'vvan, Cha'el
What Cha’el returns to his weyr to find K’vvan gone and tracks him down to find out why to a bittersweet conclusion. (Occurs the same day as Frown To A Smile )
When Evening of the twenty-fifth day of the first month of the first turn of the 12th pass.
Where A Hole Called Home

kvvanbrown.jpg Chael8.png


Crude carved walls line the edges of this small abode. One wall has a medium sized bed piled with soft furs laying neatly tucked
along each sides. The single pillow rests waiting for a head to be laid upon it. At the foot of the bed and running the length of a wall are wooden shelves sitting almost hip height. 5 medium sided baskets sit upon the shelf, each holding articles of clothing neatly folded within. An old worn rug adorns the floor between the bed and an exit out to the ledge. A small table rests beside the opening holding a tinder box and the remains of a candle in a worn holder. Tucked out of sight around an awkward corner is a small fireplace sheltered from the winds of the ledge by its corner.

That Nadeeth wasn’t on the ledge when they returned hadn’t really tweaked any concern for the green more often than not, was visiting with Kehemath.

“Hey, K’vv,” Cha’el calls out pulling gloves from his hands and tucking them into a pocket as he ambles toward the short tunnel that leads into his weyr. “I picked up a new deck of cards in the Bazaar. Figured maybe we could work on improving your gamb…ling…” Conversation that had continued from ledge to inner weyr cuts off as nothing but silence and an empty corner where the greenrider stowed his pallet every day is registered. “Well…shit.” Hands plant to lean hips as the brownrider takes the emptiness in with broad shoulders slumping a little. In as much as he enjoys his privacy, there’d been something nice about having someone to come home to. Dear Faranth. Lookit him. Almost domesticated! Two seconds later. » Sikorth. Find out where the fuck K’vvan is!

« Nadeeth. » The dainty green’s name slips in on a cool tendril of mist. « Mine would know where yours is. » Agitation catches beneath Sikorth’s mental brush. His rider’s not his.

Confusion swirls from Nadeeth’s mind at the agitation, her ribbons wrapping lovingly. «He is home. Is all well?» Her mind’s image shows the small weyr lit only by the pale light of a small fire. Movement within proves that someone is there.

« Home. » Misty tendrils embrace the wrap of ribbons while the word echoes, sent along to the one that requested the information. « We come. » No request for permission is made, the mental link simply filled with the thump of rotor blades and the whine of powerful motors whining to life.

With both riders residing along the wall of the Northern bowl, it’s really just a hop from one ledge to the other. Made in no at time at all, with the big brown landing as carefully as he can though still kicking up a stiff twist of air. Usually one that always acts with purpose, Cha’el, once dismounted, hesitates on the ledge, gaze drifting to the entry into the weyr itself and then back to where Sikorth is. Awkward? Not at all! Shyeah right. Squaring his shoulders and inhaling a steadying breath, the brownrider cloaks himself with that cocky confidence that has gotten him through many an uncertain situation and he saunters into the greenrider’s weyr as if he owns the place. “Guess it wasn’t all that mind blowing after all.” Cha’el drawls attempting wry amusement.

Nadeeth remains utterly silent and still, bewildered by the sudden shift in events that has the brownrider alighting upon her ledge. The question she puts to the blue in the gathering darkness cannot be quantified, just simple worry- did they do something wrong? Deep twilight blues shift around the question, uneasy.

K’vvan stands with his back to the door, facing what looks like casual chaos upon the table. Names written on palm sized squares of paper are scattered across the table, some fitted into what look like groups while others remain alone. The weyrsecond, if he draws close enough, might recognize the names as those who are in Arroyo, and strangely enough a few who are not. Cha’el’s abrupt entrance has K’vvan jumping out of his skin and bumping against the table as he turns to face the weyrsecond. The papers shift, their piles suddenly looking less like ordered chaos and more like just plain chaos. “Sh*t.” rolls out of his mouth as he looks at the now mess before him. “Da*n it Cha’el, I needed that ready by the end of the week.” He attempts to keep his expression, and tone flat as he turns back to the table, reaching out to pick up squares and reposition them.

Once his rider has been deposited and made his way into the weyr, Sikorth turns his attention to Nadeeth, brushing his muzzle against her shoulder. « All is well, little one. Mine is…» a word is searched for, « surprised, by your abrupt departure. He comes to check on yours. » Simple see? It is if you’re a dragon and getting to cozy up to the pretty green.

Within, Cha’el is more amused than chagrined by K’vvan’s response to his appearance in his weyr. That soon morphs to the very smallest sliver when he peers over the shorter man’s shoulder. “N’cal. K’ane. Trek.” A few of the names read out before interest colors tone and expression both. “Wing formations?” Shouldn’t there be an apology in there somewhere for messing up the carefully places squares of paper? Perhaps it’s still to come. “You left.” Is stated quietly, the brownrider turning his head to gauge the other’s reaction.

Nadeeth is only mildly reassured, but settles back upon her blankets anyway, leaving more room for the larger dragon in her smaller home.

“They were,” K’vvan grumbles, continuing to move around the papers. Cha’el’s quiet words cause the greenrider to slow in his rearrangement, his hands finally pausing completely palm down and bending over the table slightly. He doesn’t look up at the brownrider, and his face is turned away, down at those slips of paper and names. “Yeah.” No explanation in his own reply, just a statement. Whatever emotion is wrapped up in it is carefully tucked back behind green eyes, looking more black in the flickering light of his fireplace.

Watching in silence as the pieces of paper are moved around, his mind automatically ticking over the possible formation and placement of riders K’vvan is going for, the brownrider steps to the side and up to the table to get a better view. Quietly spoken confirmation of the obvious finds Cha’el slipping a sidelong look the greenrider’s way. And suddenly he finds himself feeling like a spare leg on a runner. No remark at first. Just a short nod of head but then at prompt form a certain brown, he frowns. “I sorta feel like I should be apologizing for something but…” broad shoulders shift with the idea of a shrug. “I uh…I’m not sure what for.”

Out on the ledge, Sikorth is doing his best to rearrange his large bulk onto the narrower strip of space without crowding Nadeeth on her throne of blankets. He’s almost gotten it right with just his one rear paw and tail drooping over the side.

The rather muffled down arrangements are easy to see if Cha’el is familiar with the riders in question. One bigger dragon and two smaller paired together, with another two set off to the side. With Arroyo formed almost entirely of chromatics and having a higher percentage of greens the trios + 2 make sense to rotate throughout a fall. K’vvan finally blinks and looks over at Cha’el. The greenrider turns, putting his back against the table so he can look at Cha’el. “You don’t need to apologize. I just… don’t think I can ask anything else of you.” There, have a rather vague statement that makes no sense.

Nadeeth murrs at Sikorth, uncertain as he settles with his bulk sticking out the side of the ledge. «Perhaps we should leave them alone.» She suggests, his own wide ledge just a skip away suggested as a place where they might rest more comfortable, though she has missed her own little place.

Studying the arrangement, it’s clear to see that Cha’el is impressed by the thought and reason put into it. He might have said something too if not for the reply the greenrider supplies. Brows crinkle into a frown then smooth again, a brief flash of facial movement. “You haven’t asked anything of me, K’vvan. Other than to keep your confidence which goes without saying.” A pause in which the brownrider turns to lean a hip against the table before he adds with a searching look, “Why did you leave without saying anything?” Quietly asked.

Trying to look as dignified as he can with all but half his butt hanging off the little green’s ledge, the brush of Sikorth’s mind is a grateful wisp of meadow scented breeze. « If we are not here. They cannot run. » He dryly remarks of their two riders and drops over the edge of the ledge to the one situated just two to the right and slightly below.

With one last look at the riders within, Nadeeth slips off after the brown. They will simply have to handle themselves.

K’vvan shifts under that searching look, lifting up an arm to rub against the other. He shifts away from the brownrider, his excuse to go open a glow and cast more light into his small abode. “I have no idea what to say Cha’el, or think. I feel like everything I’ve thought and trusted over the last few turns has been dumped on it’s head.” There is no end to the frustration in his quiet comment. “I wasn’t confused before- just… pissed off. This,” he finally turns back to Cha’el, though his eyes do not quite rise to his face. “is different. It was easier to just leave.”

In silence with brows knitted together, Cha’el listens as K’vvan tries to explain himself. Except that all it serves to do is confuse the brownrider further. Sighing, he palms a hand over his face and turns so that his butt is leaned up against the table with hands curling over its edges at his sides. “Dumped on its head how? I…wait. You left because you’re pissed off, with me?” Issues of his own that the brownrider keeps buried far from public eye, writhe beneath his skin and guards start to come down.

“”F*ck, no!” K’vvan’s protest is immediate as he steps towards the weyrsecond, stopping just a single step away. “I’m confused as hell. This,” and he gestures vaguely at the air between the two of them. “whatever… I don’t know what to think about it. I had a way I figured things work and in…. seconds you turned it upside down.” Arms spread in a rather helpless gesture, “so I left. To try to figure this out.”

As Cha’el listens, lips twist about a wry line and he drops his gaze to where one boot is crossed over the other at the ankle in that supposedly casual pose of his. Supposedly, because thickly muscled shoulders are tighter than a curing vat of brandy in Benden’s cellars. “How’d you figure things before?” Asked in a low voice while sea-blue eyes lift and pin intently to K’vvan. That he’s invading the space and time with his thoughts the greenrider had spoken of doesn’t appear to have the brownrider too apologetic just now.

K’vvan grinds a toe into the ground, his eyes still not meeting Cha’el’s. “It’s hard to explain.” His mouth opens a few times, with just the breath of words slipping out, but always stopping before words can actually form fully. “Sh*t.” Turning K’vvan pulls out a chair and sits heavily down on it, dropping his head into his hands as elbows rest upon the table. Hands run through his hair as K’vvan struggles to find the words to explain his own particular brand of thinking. “Look. You didn’t do anything. It’s just my head and trying to wrap around everything.”

Remaining where he is for a few moments after K’vvan has slumped into that chair, Cha’el suppresses a sigh and pushes away from the table. He doesn’t go far. In fact, only the one or two steps required to bring him alongside the wingsecond where placing a hand on his shoulder, he gives it a light squeeze and takes a step back. “I’m sorry, K’vv. I’ll go.” In order to give the younger man the time to think that he so obviously requires. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Stated as he takes another step backward toward the archway leading out to the ledge, unaware that his dragon has abandoned him.

“Tell me one thing.” K’vvan sits up abruptly as the weyrsecond gets a few feet away. “Why do you give a damn? About me?” He swivels in his chair to fix the man with green eyes that just aren’t getting it. “Nadeeth and I have always been alone since we found each other.” There’s no accusation in the young man’s tone, just… puzzlement. “Did something happen to you?”

Having not quite reached the ledge, Cha’el stops and fixes the other rider with a long look. “Because you remind me of myself sometimes,” he replies in low voiced honesty. “Angry at the world, not trusting anyone…hurting.” Safe to surmise that indeed he has experienced his own share of troubles but the brownrider is quiet for another spell, brows and lips patterned about a guarded frown. And then: “My father was lost at sea when I was about ten turns old…” And there he pauses, unsure of how to continue for he’s more comfortable with being the one doing the listening rather than the talking. Trying to brush it aside Cha’el forces a covering smile into place. “Point is, I know what its like to feel alone and on the edge of giving up.” That, a more recent experience.

K’vvan’s mood, not something easily parsed at the best of times, seems to take a sudden twist. He shoves upwards out of his chair and advances on the brownrider. “Don’t f*king do that.” He’s even reaching out a finger to poke Cha’el in the chest. “Don’t give me half answers and some bulls*it smile- no matter how pretty it is.”

That not having been a reaction Cha’el had expected, lips bare in a silent snarl of warning. But it doesn’t stop there. “What do you want, K’vvan!? You want to hear how they had to call the healers to drug me because I refused to leave the docks for over a seven? That I got so sick because I didn’t want to eat or drink anything that I wound up in the Infirmary for a month? I loved my father. He was everything to me. He was the whole reason I joined the Seacraft and then one day he was just…gone. No body to mourn over, no closure. Nothing.” With that his growled tirade comes to an abrupt end while the brownrider tries to school the thin edge of the wedge back to safety.

K’vvan stands toe to toe with the brownrider, his gaze not shifting from Cha’el’s. Instead that finger pokes Cha’el in the chest again, though this time with a bit less anger-heat. “That’s f*king exactly what I want. You want me to try this trusting-people-thing? Why don’t you be the example and do the same?” A corner of K’vvan’s mind sits slightly more on even-footing. This was more familiar to him then… no, he turns his mind away from the memories of the night before. FIXED GLARE. No smoky eyes. ANGER.

“Because it’s not fucking relevant,” Cha’el snaps right back, sea-blue eyes boring into green, hands still hanging loosely at his sides. “So I broke down. I was a fucking kid!! And yeah, I got into some pretty bad scrapes and fights. The point is, I had people who cared. People that refused to let go. That’s all I’m trying to be for you, K’vv. An anchor in the storm. Because let me tell you something,” and there the brownrider pauses to catch his breath, his expansive chest rising and falling quicker due to adrenaline’s rush, “I know what its like not to have someone there for you. For your heart to be breaking into a thousand tiny pieces while the rest of those you’d counted as friends, stand back and laugh.” Hinting at more recent events. “When the only person that’s there and willing to take your hand and let you forget for a bit is about as fucked up as you are.”

“So don’t f*king put yourself in that kind of position.” K’vvan finally retracts his hands, folding them across his chest to look up the pair of inches into Cha’el’s eyes. “It’s relevant if you’re telling me you somehow f*king understand where I’m coming from. If our feelings are so alike then it is relevant.”

For a few moments high emotion wanes and Cha’el is left staring at the younger rider. “Do you think I wanted to be in that position? Two sevens after those two were done with their fucked up games, my mother died of consumption. Aside from Sikorth, I had no one else so I grabbed onto the one person that seemed to care and used her as a tourniquet.” Going by the manner in which the brownrider drops his gaze and lowers his tone, its clear to see he’s not particularly proud of that one. “Point is, I do understand.” So in other words, relevant. Way to shoot yourself in the foot with a crossbow, mate.

“What f*ked up games?” K’vvan is lost suddenly, a slight frown turning down the edges of his lips. There is a little bit of relaxation in his posture, but that is more to do with the puncturing of K’vvan’s anger than anything else.

Anger, humiliation and hurt all roll across bearded features when K’vvan presses to know more and Cha’el shifts from one foot to the other. “I need a drink.” If he’s to even attempt to reveal the embarrassment of having been so well played.

K’vvan flicks a gaze outwards to the weyr, expecting to make eye contact with his lifemate only to realize… »Nadeeth?«

Her thought drifts back immediately. «You talk. There is time.» No drills scheduled, no food needs to be picked up, the weyr is fully stocked.

K’vvan blinks, jerking his mind back and only now realizing the trick that his dragon and the weyrsecond’s have played. A sigh of agitation, though without ire, at Nadeeth for being underhand and he’s turning abruptly. “Have a seat. We’ll be here a while.” K’vvan’s footfalls bring him to the side of his bed where he’s kneeling down and opening the cabinets below. A wineskin is pulled out, the marks showing it is from Corks and Works.

Not in any state of mind at the moment to reach out and discover where Sikorth might be, Cha’el merely grunts a sound of annoyance when his large brown bulk is missing from the ledge. “Bastard,” he mutters and under his breath and closing back to the table and chairs, flips a chair around and settles onto it astride with his forearms dangling over its back, deep blue eyes following K’vvan as he goes about procuring the requested drink. “I hooked up with her first,” he states, attention falling to a knot in the wood of the table before him. “A goldrider from my clutch. Blonde, beautiful, intelligent.” A lethal combination if ever there was one. “At first it was just a bit of fun, you know?” Romps in the furs and whatnot. “But then things started to get serious.” A pause and then. “Around about the same time, a new bronzer transferred in from Telgar. Good looking, full of swagger. Could charm the tail off a dragon. Heh.” The sound more a sign of his own stupidity than being amused.

“Sit proper.” K’vvan interupts the story to direct the brownrider abruptly. Two cups are fished out of the under-the-bed-compartment. Rising K’vvan stalks back to the table to plop everything down. When the wine is poured it is a pale pink with a very mellow taste- probably not what the brownrider was looking for. “So you started f*king both of them.”

“Screw you,” Cha’el grumbles at the reprimand and stays exactly as he is a brow lifting at the pink (?) wine. “Its pink.” He goes on to state. Mr Obvious. But he takes the cup up just the same and throws a goodly mouthful down his throat, not really focusing on the taste but rather the effect of Dutch courage he’s hoping it will have. “Aye,” quietly confirmed though he doesn’t look chagrined for having done so. “So any way. Things were going well with the both of ‘em. Then she,” the goldrider, “found out about him and it all went to shit from there.” Spoken as if to suggest what one might think to be the obvious – Fights, accusations and hurt feelings.

“You did that,” K’vvan mutters back, eyeing the brownrider as he continues to abuse his poor chair with is poor sitting skills. He’ll listen, arms across his chest and leaning against the dresser (which is still empty of belongings- but hey, he has one!) and watching Cha’el. “So what happened?” (This is K’vvan, he probably doesn’t have any clue what could happen.)

“I loved them both.” Cha’el is swift to return to what he believes to be an accusation. “Differently. But I loved them.” A sigh followed by a palm of hand over his face. “Any way, by all assumptions, it went better than I could have expected and uh…a suggestion was made.” There the brownrider actually manages to look a little embarrassed for his next confession. “For the three of us,” are his ear tips reddening, “to…you know…all hook up together.” Yup, he’s blushing. Doing is one thing, talking about it, another entirely. “Which we did.” There smoky blue eyes lift and pin to K’vvan. “It was incredible. Intense. Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. But then…” words trail and are drowned in another hefty glug of wine.

K’vvan opens his mouth, perhaps to say something about ‘love’, but closes it again as Cha’el goes on. When those smoky eyes fix on his they’ll see a firm frown etched on his lips. “Then they screwed you over?” Hey, at least he’s prompting? Pushing away from the dresser K’vvan fills Cha’el’s glass again with the pink wine, but doesn’t take any for himself.

“Like a Lord in a whorehouse,” Cha’el replies in a flat tone which could mean the actual steamy Istan threesome or indicate something more sinister at play. “I thought I had it made.” The story is picked up again. “To be with the two people I loved so deeply that they became a part of my heart was more than I could ever have hoped for. But then,” his cup of wine is drained. “I found a promissory note in his weyr when I dropped by to invite him to dinner. A note of gamble written for 10 marks and signed by her.” Bearded features drain of color at the memory. “I challenged him about it but he lied, said it was for a divan he’d brought down from Telgar for her. Which should have been my first clue that they already knew each other. But I was that in love that I bought it.”

“You were the game.” K’vvan guesses, finally sitting down in a chair across from Cha’el, before leaning forward and filling the weyrsecond’s cup again. “And… they bet on how … long they could screw you along before you got the clue that they were both as*holes?”

Tossing another draught of wine down his throat, Cha’el’s expression is wrought with pain and humiliation. “Aye,” he croaks to K’vvan correctly guessing the brunt of the con worked on him. “Them and about half the fucking Weyr.” Shame complete, the cup is set back down and both hands palm over bearded features. “It wasn’t a seven later and the senior’s gold went up. His bronze caught making him the new Istan Weyrleader.” How’s that for mortifying. “And me the object of stupidity. I tried for a few months but couldn’t stay after that. So I left.” And wound up where he is now. “Ten marks, K’vv. Ten fucking marks was all I was worth to them.” Anger and old hurt swims in sea-blue eyes along with shadows of self-confidence shattered. What everyone sees on a daily basis, a good fake-out.

Even K’vvan isn’t a big enough bastard to not be moved a little by Cha’el’s story. “They’re f*king as*holes. And you’re the sharding weyrsecond, so it was their f*king mistake. Maybe thread’ll do you a favor with that one like it did with that b*ch High Reaches woman.” K’vvan says that thought while keeping his mind firmly cut off from Nadeeth’s. Things like that would only upset the little green. “There’s no f*king room for that kind of idiocy.”

A tiny sliver of a wry smile falls crooked to Cha’el’s lips at the other rider’s indignation. “I wasn’t weyrsecond then. Just your regular ole…” There’s a slight shift in the flow of words echoed in the very briefest of frowns at comment made about Vienn’s death. A question forms for the vehemence of it but is put on hold at K’vvan’s last. “Aye well, I was the bigger idiot for trusting either one of them.”

“You’re the sharding weyrsecond now, so they can go f*ck themselves.” K’vvan pours the last of the wine into Cha’el’s bottle, then rises to go back to that little cupboard. This time the flask that is withdrawn is much smaller, and might actually look familiar to Cha’el. The powerful Southern brew is placed upon the table before the brownrider, K’vvan’s invitation for him to take it. “That kind of f*king nonsense if just proof that love doesn’t exist.”

Hard eyes, shadowed by embarrassment for having been made a fool of, soften with gratitude at K’vvan’s insistence. The refilled cup is taken up and lifted in silent salute of arseholes planet wide and then half its contents sent down Cha’el’s throat adding to the pleasant buzz seeping through his veins. “I refuse to believe that,” the brownrider counters, eyeing the flask the other man produces well remembering its lethal contents. “Love exists, you just gotta be careful who you trust your heart with.” And there’s that word at the crux of everything. Trust.

“If love existed the way people tout it about, then that kind of sh*t wouldn’t happen.” K’vvan doesn’t sit back down on his chair, but leans against the table near where Cha’el sits. His gaze is fixed on some blank corner of his weyr, his thoughts shifting to somewhere else. “Lust. Maybe.” The jury is still out on that half of the equation.

“That’s not love,” Cha’el remarks on the matter of those that abuse the word. “That’s lust. Or at the very most, a crush.” Staring down into his cup for a few moments, the brownrider’s baritone is held low when next he speaks. “I got played because I foolishly believed empty words. I loved them, K’vv. Truly. Deeply. The problem was, I was conned into believing it was reciprocated when it wasn’t. That’s not the fault of love. That’s mine for having been blinded by mine.” Painful honesty in those words followed by a lift of blue eyes to fix on K’vvan as he muses out loud. There’s even a quiet chuckle from Cha’el that’s more a rolling purr of sound than it is laughter on the matter of lust. “If lust doesn’t exist then what was that the other night, hmm?” A pause before he adds with quiet amusement. “Lust is what drives us to connect sexually with someone else. It’s a primal urge more than it’s an emotion.”

K’vvan actually manages to flush just slightly before pushing away from the table, suddenly uncomfortable being quite so near Cha’el. “It’s a stupid urge.” he mutters under his breath as he scoots to the other side and looks down at the pieces of hide scattered across it. With thoughts of lust suddenly shifting right through his head the wingsecond decides this is a good time to get back to the work that Cha’el had interrupted before.

Whether K’vvan likes it or not, Cha’el finds that flush that creeps out, endearing. He would never embarrass the younger man by commenting on it though. Instead he measures an amused look at the greenrider when he moves away. “Not gonna jump you,” he notes and then adds with a devilish waggle of brows. “’Less of course you want me to.” Smirk. Back to the topic at hand, broad shoulders shift in a shrug, attention idly noting the way the wingsecond’s hands move and where he’s placing his pieces of paper. “If it wasn’t for lust none of us would be here.” So sayeth the vaguely drunk man.

Not so divorced from the events of the night before is K’vvan. Cha’el’s casual remark and eyebrow waggle causes K’vvan’s heartbeat to pick up abruptly, and the slight redness to grow a bit darker. His hands continue to work, though perhaps with a bit more care than they had a second ago. Just so that Cha’el is AWARE he’s totally NOT doing anything with K’vvan’s “primal urges”. His voice, when he speaks, is rough to also prove his point, “That would be preferable in some cases.”

Cha’el isn’t buying it, K’vvan. Not one little bit. Perhaps evidenced in the way his gaze hoods at the deepening of the greenrider’s blush. Yeah. He’s onto you. Arms fold across the back of the chair and the brownrider rests his bearded chin upon them. “You ever want kids?” Quite a leap to make but he’s halfway to being drunk and so in his mind, its applicable to the topic of lust.

The look K’vvan shoots at Cha’el is utterly baffled by the abrupt shift of topic. “Why the hell would I want kids? That’s one thing I don’t have to f*king deal with because Nadeeth is green.” Gold goes up? He can either just stay in his little weyr or take off somewhere else without having to deal with the dragon wanting something else. And until recently all the male dragons had male riders. So. At least they’re not talking about lust any more. K’vvan can focus on telling his body to shut up.

Oh but they are, K’vvan. Lust is still VERY much on the table. Or the bed. Or wherever you please. Ahem. “Not flight kids. Those don’t count.” Cha’el retorts. “Well they do but…” A perplexed look crosses his expression. “I mean having kids on purpose.” And then his mind shifts sideways again. “You gonna be long with that still?” Because he has other more interesting means of entertainment in mind.

“No.” comes K’vvan’s short and abrupt answer. His eyes are all sorts of avoiding Cha’el now, as he moves those pieces of paper around on the table. Tongue licks his lips just slightly, as if he’s suddenly thirsty, and he casts a gaze at his own wine glass sitting on the other side of the table just out of arm's reach, and a bit too close to Cha’el at the moment. “You got an opinion weyrsecond?”

“Reckon it would be nice. But not with another rider,” Cha’el muses. “A kid needs a full time mom, you know?” Someone’s given this some thought apparently. Or it could just be the musings of too much wine too quickly imbibed. He’s not that far gone that he doesn’t notice the flick of tongue tip over lips or the glance that darts to the glass that just so happens to be near his elbow. He could hand it over buuuuut…that’s where Cha’el is a bit of a bastard. “Aye,” a provocative smirk peels out, “you look thirsty.” More observation than opinion but there you go.

“They could always be fostered.” K’vvan shrugs. “Or shove them off on family or some other sh*t.” The glass of wine is eyed again, “Hand that to me?” It’s compromise. He doesn’t have to go to the other side of the table and think about the heat that has nothing to do with his corner-tucked fireplace. “I meant this, the wing arrangements.”

“Then there’s no point to having them,” Cha’el retorts apparently having a very clear idea of how that all should go. Attention slips away from the hands arranging the squares of paper and lands on the glass being requested before gliding back to K’vvan. “Come and get it.” Blue eyes fit heavy innuendo into those four words. “Looking good.” He goes on to reply, attention roving over the greenrider rather than said wing arrangements.

Oh that’s so a challenge that even K’vvan knows it. He hesitates before taking bold action and moving towards the side of the table and snatching up the cup to lift it to his lips. Green eyes seem fixated on blue as he does so though, not breaking once in the movement. Feet take him a single step away from the brownrider as he drinks, the pale pink wine disappearing swiftly.

Challenge met, Cha’el leisurely gets to his feet when K’vvan ventures into the ‘Red Zone’. With eyes locked, a slow smile appears filled with heated intent and he compensates for the step backwards that the greenrider takes. “Do you want me to leave?” A low purr of sound as he lays the course of action at the other rider’s feet. Not that he can because he has a sneaky bastard for a dragon. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

“You can’t leave unless you can make Sikorth get down here.” K’vvan is so not helping his own case. He steps backwards just another half step from Cha’el, the heat washing down his back again at the closeness of the weyrsecond. At least now he has some reference for what exactly this burning could lead to, though it doesn’t make him aggressive at all. “And I think Nadeeth….” His eyes gather a far away look, “yeah, she’s telling him one of those stories she learned from Kehemath.”

For that first K’vvan earns himself a narrowed look though it’s ruined from being a rebuke when lips twitch with amusement. “Bugger. Stuck up here. With you. What’s a man to do…” there’s even a faux sigh of longsuffering. “Guess you’re gonna have to tell me a story.” Flashing the other rider a cocky grin, Cha’el brushes passed him, close enough that shoulders meet briefly and angles his path towards the bed. Boots are shucked and then without so much as a by-your-leave, he flops onto his back on it and pillows his hands behind his head, apparently ready for ‘Story Time’. “So how does it start? Because all the good ones start with Once Upon A Time.” The browrider reminds. “And then comes, ‘In a land far, far away’.”

K'vvan flushes even deeper as Cha'else comes so close to him the moves away. Like a moth that cannot help but fly towards a light, even if it is going to zap him, K'vvan trials the brown rider the handful of steps across his weyr. Only those boots manage to bring him to a stop. Bending down he picks them up to set them neatly at the edge of his bed. Even with… Thoughts burning thier way in he is wayyy to picky clean to allow that kind of mess. At the foot of the bed he sits gingerly, not touching the brown rider. "You got all,my stories last night. Your turn." It is an attempt at levity… Which probably fails.

Cha’el’s tidy. Has to be with a drill instructor for a dragon. He’s just not the neat freak that K’vvan clearly is. Watching with amusement as the greenrider gathers his boots and places them neatly at the edge of the bed, the brownrider straightens the leg that had sprawled knee bent to the side and lightly toes the other man’s hip with a socked foot. “Already told you my stories,” he counters fitting K’vvan with an intent look thought there is a twitch of lips for the attempt at levity. “Unless of course you want to hear about the time I got so drunk I forgot I didn’t have any pants on and wandered into the living caverns from the baths?”

Nadeeth could probably teach Sikorth a few lessons about being neat. “How could you be that? drunk?” K’vvan blinks, apparently believing the other man’s story. And it’s conversation something to distract from that socked foot. Hesitantly, K’vvan reaches down to brush his hand against the rider’s leg, his eyes slowing tracing upwards to find Cha’el’s face. Irrational thoughts are chased out with a shake to his head. “Why were you drunk?”

Heat smokes through blue eyes at that simple touch while Cha’el’s mouth twirls lazily about a grin. “More to the point. How could I have been that drunk and still able to walk?” A hearty chuckle rumbles free. Clearly the man is not in the least bit embarrassed for his blunder. “Well, it was back when I was just Chadarel, Journeyman Seacrafter. About a month before I was searched. Our ship had just made dock after six months at sea.” The tale spun in thrumming stroke of baritone. “None of us had had a hot bath in that time and we’d run out of rum three sevens before hand. Suffice it to say that drinking rum in a hot bathing pool is a lethal combination.”

“Chadarel,” K’vvan turns the name around in his mouth for a bit. “So, bathing and rum. Ended up clean but without… pants.” Scooting just slightly closer K’vvan moves his hand upwards, eyes on it as he caresses the leg with a single finger, on the outside of his pants, stopping at the knee. “How old were you when searched?”

“I had a shirt on,” Cha’el feels it necessary to declare because somehow that’s important that his top half was clothed when his bottom half was not. He’s in no sober state to investigate the absurdity of that. Like one of the great predators of the South, the brownrider watches K’vvan scooch a touch closer, failing at suppressing the faint tightening of jaw at the wandering of that finger. “Twenty two turns. Almost twenty three.”

“So that would put you and Sikorth together…” K’vvan pauses, as does his finger, “what, eight years?” K’vvan’s making a wild guess at the older rider’s age, probably grossly over or underestimating it. “What was it like, impressing him?” The conversation has shifted to utterly safe grounds and K’vvan pulls that finger back altogether, looking upwards instead at Cha’els face and… those blue eyes of his.

There’s a wry curl of mouth when K’vvan guesses at his age. “Eleven turns,” Cha’el tells him, a strange tightness slipping across his frame as he waits for the rejection he’s sure is to follow. In a bid to shift conversation passed the point of just how much older he is than the other rider, he quickly grabs onto the next question. “Terrifying, safe.” He pauses a fond expression softening features. “Like coming home after being lost at sea.” Always with the seacrafting comparisons. The retraction of that timid track of hand sees the brownrider nudging his foot closer up against K’vvan’s hip in a silent gesture of encouragement to resume. “You with Nadeeth?’

Whatever thoughts perhaps that had begun to form when the math is finally done in his head and he lifts an eyebrow are cut off when the brownrider brings up the happiest moment of K’vvan’s life. A slightly dreamy smile breaks out on his lips and rather than go back to touching the man’s leg K’vvan repositions himself on the bed, his back against the stone wall and allowing his legs to curl under him till the knees are almost just touching Cha’el. “You know how sometimes there are really little eggs that don’t hatch?” He’ll wait for just a second to see if Cha’el knows what he is talking about before plowing on. “The hatching was almost over, all the other eggs had finished hatching and the boys were walking away. I knew that the little one was going to hatch though, so I kept standing there. There was even someone coming to get the egg and…” K’vvan shudders slightly at the thought, “But before he could reach her she rocked once and split right down the middle.” His green eyes have developed a very far away look as the memory replays in his mind. “None of the other canidates were watching so I started running. I knew she was mine without her having to even pick herself off the sand. Got reamed latter for breaking the sands rules but I didn’t f*king care.” His voice gets that overly defensive tone that only comes out for Nadeeth. “She was so tiny I could have picked her up even though I was a scrawny kid. Some of the larger bronzes and browns made fun of her for it but I couldn’t have cared less right then. Knowing I’d never be alone again…” He drifts off as he scoots backwards to lead against the cool stone wall that his bed is edged up against.

A small smile curls onto Cha’el’s mouth as he watches the way the greenrider’s face softens when he speaks of the day he found his lifemate. “I hate it when the little ones don’t hatch,” the brownrider murmurs rolling his head to the one side as K’vvan settles himself. “Best reason for getting chewed out,” he goes on to agree and sends the younger man a warm smile, a hand lifting to rest on his knee if he’s close enough to do so. “Never alone again,” Cha’el echoes quietly in a musing tone. “Your stories are better than mine,” he decides.

“Old Vergora’s dragon… she had some really bad eggs after the flight that hers and Jivayath went up together.” There is all sorts of sadness in his voice at the memory of that dilapidated egg sitting on the sands among the shards of all the others that had cracked and released their burdens to open new windows into their lifemate’s minds. When Cha’el’s arm finds his knee he stiffens out of habit then forces himself to relax with a deep breath before his eyes flutter open. “I only have that one.”

The tale of the ill-fated goldflight is one that had spread across Pern like wildfire and so while Cha’el is aware of it, he’s not too up on the details of what came after. “Must be a bit like people,” the brownrider idly muses, the wine in his system pulling words from him in a languid drawl. “You know, like they say a woman can miscarry if she’s too stressed or something.” Or so he’s heard given that he’s had very little to do with pregnant women as a whole. Giving K’vvan’s knee a squeeze, the older rider grins. “But it’s a good one.”

K’vvan just shrugs at that, his eyes moving downwards to sit upon Cha’el’s. “I wouldn’t know about the woman thing. Sienna was pretty careful when she had the twins but.” He shrugs slightly, then his gaze moves down to Cha’el’s hand upon his knee. “Cha’el, this is so weird. Having you here like this.” Some of his earlier bewilderment has come back now that he isn’t thinking of his little green heartmate. He reaches out to put his hand on Cha’el’s to keep him from pulling away.

Glancing up when K’vvan speaks, the buzz of wine has attention focusing on the way his lips move rather than what is being said. It does however register on some level but just as Cha’el is forming a reply, the younger rider completely distracts. He’s quiet a few moments, gaze slipping down over his chest and then sideways to where he finds his hand covered by the greenrider. “Why? Don’t you get visitors?” Wryly asked with an edge of teasing as he deliberately misinterprets for he’s well aware that most tread a wide berth about the prickly young man.

K’vvan doesn’t realize that the brownrider is so far gone on his little pink wine, (thanks Mayte!) though perhaps it should occur to him since the man drank a majority of the skin by himself in almost no time and without a food base. “Not often. And usually I tell them to get the f*ck off.” Dryness colours K’vvan’s voice as he repeats the words Cha’el is more than familiar with. “And they never sleep on my bed except Mayte that one time, or when Aaron screwed over my s*it when that brownrider dumped his butt.”

Thankfully that was wine and not rum Cha’el had tossed down his throat like juice or else K’vvan might now be dealing with a passed out brownrider in his bed. As it is, he turns a lazy grin over to the greenrider. “You have such a welcoming warmth about you.” But then there’s a name he’s only heard the one time and interest perks. “Mayte, eh? You mean that little vintner girl?” There’ll be no innuendos made about romping in the furs for he knows better but, “so you had a cute girl in your bed and….what? Just watched her sleep?” Yes, he’ll tease. Or maybe he’s trying to understand why K’vvan didn’t take advantage as most red-blooded men would have.

“I was drunk,” this seems to be a reoccuring problem with K’vvan… maybe he just needs to get on the wagon altogether and not drink at all. “and had just punched that idiotic harper in the bazaar- the guy one who co-owns the Harper. She ran when I did and helped me stay on Nadeeth. But Nadeeth was proddy and didn’t stay so Mayte was stuck. Maybe something would’ve happened- but I kept falling down and running into things then she said no..” K’vvan frowns a bit at the memory. “It was probably better that way. It would have been pretty horrible for her. I wasn’t in control at all.” He’s a bit ashamed of that memory actually. “Why am I telling you any of this?”

I was drunk. That pulls a crooked grin from Cha’el. Aaaah, the follies of men in their cups. “Least you had pants on,” he notes and then falls into a more sincere silence when K’vvan expands. “Ah, so she was the one.” That got away. “And you never thought to go back and find her after Nadeeth had gone up?” As to why the greenrider is spilling his guts, the Weyrsecond utters a grunt of amusement. “Because I’m on my ear and you’re hoping I’ll forget in the morning?” Cue the lopsided grin.

“I wasn’t sure she would even want to see me again. Then things happened…” K’vvan trails off with a shrug. “After a while it just wasn’t like that between us any more. She went with me to the Arroyo party which was nice but.” Another shrug as he looks downwards at the weyrsecond- every inch the opposite of the vintner apprentice. “Will you forget in the morning?”

Warmth rather than any sign of jealousy patterns across Cha’el’s expression. “You still like her? Think maybe you might have a shot with her if you tried to pick it up like that again?” Amusement curls about his lips next for the question asked of him and the brownrider sends K’vvan a smoldering look. “No such luck, lover.” Though whether he means the conversation or something else entirely is left for the other rider to divine.

“I think we’re friends.” Such a hard concept for K’vvan to really latch onto- the whole friend thing. “But no. I don’ think we could….” His words trail off as Cha’el hits him with that look and the curl of heat begins to flair again, causing K’vvan to lick his lips like they have suddenly gone dry. Finally, “Lover?” Talk about a nickname he’s never had before….

“Friends is a good place to start,” Cha’el confirms. “As is taking her to shindigs. Maybe you could get her something like…I dunno…ribbons for her hair or something? Let her know the door is still open?” A pause before adding. “That is if you want it to be open.” Doctor Love on the line, how may I help you? But then K’vvan’s doing that cute nervous lip licking thing and the brownrider is distracted from the topic of playing matchmaker. “Aren’t you?” He purrs, rolling up into a sitting position so that he’s that bit closer to invading personal space.

“Do you want there to be something between Mayte and I?” K’vvan’s eyebrows are pulled together, forming a v over his eyes as he attempts to parse together what the weyrsecond is implying. “Am I?” Because Cha’el is sending some MIXED SINGALS.

“Do you?” Cha’el asks flipping the question about onto K’vvan. Not because he’s trying to be a prick but honestly because he’s trying to help. “If you like the girl, then give it a go. We’re riders K’vvan. Sexuality and relationships can’t be defined the same way they can be for non-riders. For us its more…” the brownrider flops down again onto his back and stares at the ceiling as he tries to find the correct word. “Fluid.” Yeah, that’ll work. A low chuckle spills next and the greenrider is set with a long look, those blue eyes of Cha’el’s still set on high simmer. “Don’t you want to be?’

“She’s not a rider.” K’vvan will point this out as his thoughts scatter to the four winds as Cha’el’s casualness over it. “I don’t ever want her to be a rider. It may be a hell of an honor but it also rips like nothing else.” There is a bit of protective fierceness that has worked his way into his voice as they talk about Mayte. The simmer scatter’s K’vvan’s thoughts to high hell again and he blinks. “I, uh.” He’s stumped. Does he want that? “Don’t you have someone else?” Because someone as pretty as Cha’el has to right?

Strangely enough, Cha’el can understand the sentiment behind what K’vvan is saying. “Aye, it has its downsides.” He agrees on being a rider. But its what the younger man says next that drops the brownrider into deep silence. Don’t you have someone else? The quiet stretches thin until just as rubberbands back in on itself, he lifts a searching look to K’vvan. “Aye, I’ve been seeing someone but she knows about you.” Which probably opens a WHOLE slew of questions in the greenrider’s mind. “Or at least, she knows about Sikorth’s interest in Nadeeth and mine in you but not that we’ve gotten intimate. Its not really something one writes in a note.” A pause and then. “I uh…I’ll talk to her when next I get to see her.”

Ice washes over K’vvan. The smouldering heat is washed away in a cascade of the coldness leaving a smoking husk behind. K’vvan’s stomach knots as he looks down at the weyrsecond, teetering between emotions that have no name in his book nor have ever been felt before. His posture tightens and he sits up, moving just a few inches away from Cha’el. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “Is she a rider?” He has to ask, because it does make a difference.

It doesn’t take a genius to interpret the change that comes over K’vvan and some of that ice that swells through him, catches a hold of Cha’el too. Dear Faranth, please let him understand. Pulling back up into a seated position, the brownrider palms a hand over his face, exhaling a sigh into its palm. He could lie. Could have lied at the first question but its not in his nature to do so. Instead, wary blue eyes lift to green. “No,” he utters so quietly it would get lost on the air if they weren’t sitting as close to each other as they are. “It’s…complicated.” Cha’el adds with a frown.

“Non-riders don’t get things like this…” Of that K’vvan is totally sure. He waves a hand between himself and Cha’el. Not that K’vvan gets exactly what is going on either. “I,” K’vvan pauses looking down for a second them back up. A hand reaches out slowly to cup the side of the weyrsecond’s face- the touch only slightly more assertive than his ones the night before. “Cha’el, whatever this is… it’s probably not going to help that.” Here, have relationship advice from K’vvan. “I’m not going to ask you to leave.” The words roll out slowly as he searches Cha’el’s face. “But I’m not going to make you stay.”

“Aye,” Cha’el agrees now staring dolefully at the socked toes of his feet, a frown stitched between his brows. Surprise at the warm curve of palm to his cheek jerks his attention back up again, blue eyes locking to green, searching, longing…conflicted. There’s a small movement of head that barely registers as a shake of head and Cha’el swallows slowly, his Adam’s apple doing a slow rise and fall. “I don’t want to go.” It’s barely a whisper. “You…” Started and ended because the brownrider has studiously ignored sentiment, refusing to allow emotion to seep in but now… He sighs. “She…” Not sure how much to reveal that frown deepens. “She’s betrothed. She and I can never…You and I…” Yeeeah, silver-tongued charmer is currently all tied up in knots.

“Never is a long time.” K’vvan points out, allowing a thumb to gently rub on Cha’el’s cheek. “If you… and her… I mean, I get it,” well, no he doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t want to think about all of the emotions tied up that he isn’t prepared to face. The physical intimacy was enough right now for his mind to parse. “Things change, and if she isn’t okay with this… You shouldn’t let yourself get hurt again.” K’vvan comes to a halt, stomach wrapped up in knots.

Perhaps it’s that gentle brush of thumb, or the unexpected sweetness or even the reasonable approach that K’vvan attempts to take that Cha’el could never in a million turns have anticipated. Either way, it’s enough to set a lump in the older rider’s throat and have his gaze skittering away before it returns once again a sudden rush of awareness darkening blue eyes. Lifting a hand to cover the one curved against the bristle of beard and smooth plane of shaved skin, the brownrider’s mouth curves about a rueful smile at the last. “Too late,” he murmurs. “Too fucking late.” In other words, he’s already heading face first down that slippery slope of putting himself on the line. Again.

K’vvan’s the kind that has to have things hit him over the head before he gets them. He shakes his head, “It isn’t too late. I get it. If I had the choice…” K’vvan swallows a bit and looks away, though he doesn’t remove the hand from Cha’el’s face or cease his thumb’s gentle movement. “I wouldn’t be here. You don’t have to be here- and I won’t do anything.” Fight for your man? You have to have some sense of self-worth to do that first and K’vvan sorely lacks any of that particular character trait. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

Now it’s Cha’el’s turn to miss the gist of things. Wariness sifts across his expression. K’vvan doesn’t want him? In his weyr? In his life? At all? “What do you mean if you had the choice? Where would you be?” There’s a pause in which the brownrider’s hand falls away and he frowns. “I don’t want to complicate your life, K’vv. I just…” broad shoulders shift awkwardly, “I like being with you.”

K’vvan’s thumb brushes the smoothness of the brownrider’s face one last time before allowing his hand to fall back into his lap. “I wouldn’t be with me,” he clarifies. “So I get it. If you’ve got someone else…” he shrugs as he lifts a hand up to run it through his hair as he looks away from Cha’el.

The moment that simple yet for K’vvan boldly sweet contact is lost, Cha’el feels it keenly and then is left staring at the other man. “What? Are you crazy?” Without thinking he’ll try to grab a hold of the greenrider’s chin with his fingers and turn his attention back to himself. “I want to be with you. And yes, I’m seeing someone else as well. But I don’t want to give either one of you up. And maybe that makes me selfish and greedy. Or selfishly greedy. No, greedily selfish….Fuck.” Forgive him, his system is still swimming with nearly a full skin’s worth of pink wine and this is all little unexpected. “K’vv,” Cha’el’s baritone drops to a low thrum of earnestness, “Tell me one thing. Do you want me to stay?”

K’vvan’s instant response is to pull back and away from Cha’el’s touch, though he attempts to quell it the rider might still feel some of that tightening before movement that occurs under his skin. “I don’t want you to go Cha’el.” Now it’s his voice’s turn to be almost too quiet to be heard. He lifts his eyes back up to the brownrider’s. “I just don’t want you to regret this when you tell her. One night is something… you were trying to help me. But if… again, she probably won’t understand.”

As soon as that tightening of muscle is felt beneath his fingers, Cha’el drops his hand, freeing the younger rider from the light grip of his fingers. His gaze however, remains riveted to green eyes. “I will never regret this,” the brownrider tells K’vvan quietly but with no less sincerity, “the trust you have placed in me is something I always place in high regard.” There’s another sigh wherein eyes drop and then lift again. “Does my seeing someone else as well bother you?”

K’vvan takes a long moment to think out his answer, searching Cha’el’s gaze to maybe find some answer there to the questions and confusion that he feels. His voice is low and oh-so-reasonable, even as his heart tightens into a round knot. “I’ve no claim on you Cha’el. And I’m not that big of a bastard to want someone else to get hurt because I’m being selfish.” So he does admit he is a bastard… at least a little bit. When Cha’el’s gaze drops K’vvan’s follows it, and remains down. “I don’t know who your woman is- I don’t want to know,” serious, don’t tell him. “I guess… you have to decide. I just thought you should know that I get it if you decide that you have to go. I’ll pull Nadeeth away from Sikorth so he’ll come get you and we never have to say anything about this again.” His hands find themselves in his lap and curl together so K’vvan has a place to rest his gaze. “And it could be just that. Nadeeth gives me plenty of warning when she goes proddy,” DAYS of it. “so Sikorth never has to fly her either. So it could stay just… last night.”

Brows remain quirked downward as K’vvan speaks, with the brownrider at a complete loss as to what to do until those comments about their dragons. That sees Cha’el jerking a startled look over to the greenrider. “No. Don’t do that. Leave them be. He likes her company and Faranth knows there are few that he actually likes. And as for flights.” Now it’s his turn to react with a physical gesture and both hands come up to lightly bracket the greenrider’s face. “Sikorth will chase and I won’t stop him. I mean that, K’vv. And I meant what I said about her next flight. The choice, if you’ll take it, is yours.” Pointed the look he pins the other rider with. That having been said, hands slip reluctantly away and Cha’el slowly curls down onto his back again, the heels of his hands grinding against his eyes as he tries to force logical thought through the haze of booze. “Alright fine, I’ll speak to her and tell her what’s going on if that’s what you want. But it might be a while. I uh…” hands drop away leaving the brownrider staring blankly up at the ceiling. “I haven’t been able to see her in sevens.” And in truth, it’s starting to worry him.

"It is decided then." His voice is low, with more than a few lances of sadness curled therein. "You'll see her." If K'vvan believed in love, perhaps he might understand the sudden stabbing in his chest that Cha'el pulling away causes. But he just knows that Cha'el leaving is the last thing he wants. That voice that whispers all of his insecurities scripts non-stop, forcing meaning on Cha'el's words simply didn't have but that K'vvan cannot help but put to them. There is little room in K'vvan's mind space for a coherent thought, so he does the next best option- though Cha'el might disagree. He shifts to a kneeling position and moves on the bed to lean forward. Gkd reach up to capture his face as Cha'el had held his. Leaning forward he kisses the brownrider lightly, taking one last moment for himself.

Perhaps some of that sadness leaks through from K’vvan, or maybe it’s his own to begin with, a fear that he’s being cast aside. Either way, there’s a quiet sort of desperation to the manner in which Cha’el returns that kiss. A hand lifts and curls to the nape of the greenrider’s neck, lightly holding him in place, not wanting him to draw away even although a gut reaction speaks of the inevitability thereof. He’ll not be the one to break the kiss either and if he can will deepen it toward a soaring heat. Eventually, oxygen is needed. “Aye, but I’ll see you too.” The brownrider tells him, lust soaked eyes fierce with determination.

K’vvan leans into that kiss as it heats up, desire rolling into an inferno that he has to fight back. There is a distinct roughness to his voice as he fights against the heat. “If you don’t go now Cha’el…” The greenrider stops, his eyes locked on those blue ones. “I’m not going to be able to let you go tonight.”

Reaching out K’vvan’s mind touches Nadeeth as she spins a tale of a small furred creature stealing fire for the large brown, utterly heedless of the predicament that K’vvan has gotten himself into. »He has to go, please, Sikorth needs to come get him.«

Nadeeth’s tale stops abruptly, and without the proper tension her weaving falls to pieces, the shuttle causing a snarled mess left in its wake. Questions bubble along their shared link, questions which only meet with a lack of answers and bold insistence that the brown come now. Still confused Nadeeth reaches back to the brown. «Mine says you must go and collect yours. I do not understand why.»

Unaware that Sikorth has been called, and locked into those deep green eyes a slow smile curves about Cha’el’s lips. “Then don’t,” he murmurs. “Let me stay for tonight.”

Sikorth, although not generally one for fanciful tales, is captured by the one that Nadeeth spins approving of the small furred creature for its bravery, his mind intently focused on the intricate weaving. However, the moment it comes to an abrupt pause and the whole picture falls into tangled disarray, the big brown utters a low rumble of discontent. Deepened when he’s told her rider is requesting that his be removed from their weyr. « What did you do!? » The brown demands to know landing on the ledge outside in a frenzied rush of sand and disturbed air.

Within the weyr, Cha’el stiffens and then sits bolt upright casting an incredulous look at K’vvan. “You called, Sikorth?” Hurt and confusion shade blue eyes before it’s quickly hidden behind the guards that drop into place. Staring at the other rider for a few moments longer, long legs are swung over the side of the bed and boots dragged over.

“I don’t want you to go.” K’vvan whispers, but he has already called to Nadeeth- iron resolve more than a little warped by the intensity in those blue eyes. Without action well… But Sikorth is there, his winds blowing the thin cloth cover from weyr to ledge outwards. “S*it” the word rolls from K’vvan’s lips in a mutter as Cha’el jerks away from him and goes for those boots. Without a hint of grace K’vvan scoots off the bed to kneel in front of the brownrider, “You have to go. I don’t want you to go, Thread take me if I lie, I want you here.” There is pleading in his voice for Cha’el to please understand. “But I’m not going to let someone else get hurt because of me.” Because deep down? K’vvan really is a very empathetic person- it’s just been beaten out of him.

The fact that K’vvan is capable of that kind of empathy touches the brownrider deeply. But he can’t let it show. Can’t let anything show. Instead he presents the bland mask that he’s perfected over the turns and fashions a small smile for the greenrider. Shoving his feet into his boots and then stomping them (perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary) to get them properly settled, Cha’el stands. “Thanks for…you know…” everything, “understanding.” A few steps are taken to where Sikorth waits beyond impatient for an answer from his rider and then he pauses and turns latching an intent look onto the other rider. “You’re a good man, K’vv. Whether you want to believe it or not. Never forget that and don’t give up on that girl. You deserve the shot at being happy.” That said, the brownrider drags his gaze away and keeping his shoulders as square as possible, leaves.

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