==== December 30th, 2013
==== Kyara, E'don
==== Friends comfort each other after Keroon's Threadfall.

Who Kyara, E'don
What Friend time after Keroon's Threadfall.
When It's 0 turns, 4 months and 27 days until the 12th pass.
Where Liareth's Ledge, Locum Cantibus et Lux; Igen Weyr


Liareth's Ledge
A wide, flat ledge, edges gouged from centuries of taloned feet gripping it to land, faces west near the apex of the caldera that is Igen Weyr. Sand fills a dragon-sized spot worn into the surface near the southern edge. The back half is sheltered by weathered, rusty-hued stone - expansive enough to provide a haven during inclement weather. Around the outside edges of the cave, a few smaller shelves of rock jut out - deep enough to allow firelizards to lounge, should they wish to. Beyond a stone platform lies the entrance to Kyara's weyr, cut off from the ledge by a heavy, sapphire-hued hanging edged with a simple blocked spiral pattern in gold thread. Two sand-filled cylindrical striking bags hang in the back left corner of the sheltered space. Just to the left of the entrance is a shelf holding pots of oil and salve, beneath which is a row of hooks for fighting straps.

Bronze Qianvaelth and green Liareth are here.

With a summer's long hours and extended sunlight, Igen's weather should be enjoyable; but it's not. The unrelenting sting of sand makes the sky nearly black, blotting out Rukbat's afternoon rays. Most Igenites would have the common sense to flee inside, but no one has told the Southern stock of riders that today would be a pretty horrible day to come ::betweening:: in for a visit of any kind. Perhaps the pair had been warned before departing their home Weyr, at the stubborn insistence of E'don, to leave anyhow, which naturally has led them to quite a predicament. One moment the sky is empty, and then the next, an autumnal flash of wings grace the air in a startled and awkward dance as Qianvaelth attempts to traverse the airspace without dropping out of the sky entirely. Wind be fierce, yo'; and with the blinding sting of sand in the goggles and whirling eyes of rider and dragon, it seems they are having trouble finding the right ledge to land on.

Igen's weather? Enjoyable? Not in the summer! Someone has clearly not experienced one of the desert Weyr's hundred-plus-degree nights. And certainly not one of Igen's sandstorms; Kyara did warn E'don that there was one of those blowing through, but she may also have hinted that it was good practice to fly in them. Liareth knows the moment Qianvaelth gets there and prowls to the edge of her ledge, stretching out guiding tendrils of encouraging steam to the young bronze. « Rise a little higher, » she tells him, « and come south and west. The dust isn't as bad up high, where we are. » She gives him as clear a picture as she can of the ledge he's to aim for - a row below the rim, not far from the Star Stones. Kyara also slips out into the howling gale, shielding her eyes as she stands beside her lifemate and watches for their approach.

Liareth's direction is well needed and appreciated, and the young bronze is able to right himself and land onto the ledge with an ungraceful Fwump~ with the scrape of claws and spars. « Your directions, Liareth, are much appreciated.» The bronze's voice is a deep, slow bass echoing within the hallow of his forest. «This is nothing like the Southern monsoon.» Qian's matter-of-fact statement is matched with the Bollian yell of his rider, who scrambles down his dragon's forearm, one hand waving about his face to try and keep his visibility. "Shards n' shit, lady; I can hardly see a thing." Bronzen wings stretch out to help shield E'don's hapless march towards where Kyara and Liareth are on the ledge. "Y'should move to Southern!"

With an appreciative croon up at the bronze - way up; when did he get so big? - Liareth rustles pinned wings and arches her neck in reply. Still, there's only so much grace to be carried off in a sandstorm, and the green slips beneath the overhang to the stone couch there. « You are welcome, Qianvaelth, » she lilts in return, the thick steam of her thoughts leaving off significantly in favor of the atmosphere of a quiet, bubbling pool surrounded by columns of dark marble. She rumbles amusement, blinking at the younger dragon. « You have gotten to big to fit under here, else we'd offer you shelter. » Meanwhile, Kyara is closing the distance to the lanky bronzer and grabs his arm, pulling him toward the entrance to her weyr. "Yeah, and guess who gets to drill in it," she calls over the wind, swiping dust from her lips and running fingers through mussed hair once they're inside the hanging. "I'm in too deep here to jump down to Southern," she returns, though she smirks a bit after. "But I'll keep it in mind, if I ever need somewhere else to be." She gestures toward the ledge, then holds out her hand. "It should pass by nightfall, I'm hoping. Take your jacket?"

« It is of no consequence,» Qianvaelth opines back politely, as he settles his bulk as close to the inner ledge as possible. The lumbering bronze's head is small enough, at least, to situate itself underneath the ledge. « As long as I am in pleasant company and can see, all is well.» He gives a quick, dog-like shake to dispel any errant bits of sand from his head before settling it down to the ground. "I mean, we get rain, but we don't get this," E'don whinges back as he jerks a hand out towards the sandstorm, and he's removing his helmet and goggles to scratch the sand out of his scalp fervently. "And oy, before I give you my jacket, come'ere. Gimme a hug." Arms spread out wide, and he's flashing Kyara one of his warm, honest smiles. "Last time we were in the same place at the same time, we both nearly died— hugs before anything else."

Locum Cantibus et Lux
The dominating feature of this curious cavern is the column in its midst - naturally formed and pocked with many small, flat-bottomed alcoves. Pillar candles fill many of these spaces, while others hold books or remain empty for firelizard use. Smooth, porous walls marbled in creamy sandstone hues make a rough square as tall as a man and half again. The right wall jinks into a decisive angle to form a corner giving way to a smaller space - a composer's nook, where a small table and two stools sit atop a small blue rug. The surrounding stone shelves hold several glowbaskets and encased instruments. Separated from the rest of the weyr by deep sapphire hangings is a simple, full-sized bed sitting upon a forest green carpet. More shelves jut from the walls here, holding more candles, books, and small, carved wooden boxes containing personal treasures. A wooden chest sits against the wall to the right. In the main space, a low table surrounded by sitting cushions rests upon another carpet - Igen-woven in local patterns and the Weyr's colors. A few comfortable chairs are present for visitors who don't wish to be so close to the ground. On the walls, small, thick quilts of deep green and mellow gold hang at regular intervals. The north wall bears a small, simple hearth, which Kyara keeps going almost constantly in the colder months. Light from both glows and candles mingle against the swirled rock as the subtle scent of candle wax fills the air, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere - a place of song and light.

Well, that certainly does sum it up. Kyara lets out a puff of a sigh, her shoulders dropping visibly, and has to bite her lip to keep it from suddenly quivering. She steps into his arms and hugs him tightly. As tightly and as closely as she dares, even burying her face in his shoulder and just staying there for a long moment. She trembles a little, trying not to cry once again this sevenday and only mostly succeeding. "It…I'm just… I'm so glad to see you again, E'don, I can't even…" Articulate? She knew he'd survived, but he was one she'd been worrying over the most. Then she finally gets her head back up and presses a kiss against his cheek - a bit more than a simple peck, at that. "Were you and Qianvaelth scored at all? Lia told me a few of you were, and your other wingsecond's dragon… Oh, Don, I'm so sorry." Unwilling to break that hug just yet, she stays with her arms around him, surveying his face with tear-rimmed eyes.

The hug is expected, and E'don leans into the full force of Kyara's hug, rocking gently back and forth on his heels with a soft, soothing 'shush'. The kiss on the cheek, though, isn't expected, and E'don has one of those confused, scrunched eye-brow looks that he's suddenly waving off with a flick of his hand the moment Qianvaelth is mentioned. "Oh shards, he got grazed on his wings, but he's fine. Promise." His hands move to grip Kyara's shoulders and he gives her the smallest of shakes to emphasize his point. "And yeah — Cerise." He glances up past the green rider, one of those faraway looks that he can't bare to make eye contact with. "It sounds like her dragon— Jiamoth— is going to lose her forepaw." His own shoulder's slump at the fact, and he's leaning forward to press a kiss against the green rider's hairline, almost as if he's thankful the same fate isn't being equally inflicted on Kyara. "I'm so glad you're safe too."

Kyara watches the confused look flicker across E'don's face and considers apologizing…but isn't repentant, really. It isn't something she would have done without truly meaning it. The news about Cerise's dragon is met with a remorseful shake of her head, and while the kiss E'don lands on her forehead is a bit surprising as well, she shuts her eyes as she receives it, even leaning to meet it a bit. Is it possible she hasn't had much chance to simply be with those she cares about very much since Keroon? Oh yes. Sienna being the exception. Just needing someone's company after all this isn't be surprising, after all. And very much the way Kyara works. "That's…awful. Just…" Her head drops back to his shoulder. "At least they're still alive. But Faranth." Silence for a moment more. "Lia and I caught a scoring, but we're fine, too. Especially comparatively." She takes a few steadying breaths. "Well. Here we are, then. Alive." One of her hands against his back lightly thumps him a bit. "Stay that way, okay?"

"It'll be okay. I mean, Qianvaelth says so anyway, so it's true." There's a small smile that graces E'don's lips, and he's moving to return the back thumping as a way to break whatever emotional tension stands between them. "Oy, let's toast to that. Making sure to keep other alive— I brought a skin in my satchel, if'ya want me to go get it." He motions back out towards the sandstorm with one of those 'whataya gonna do?' shrugs, before he's looking for a place to sit. "Unless you have something share." His attention turns back to Kyara with a worrying look. "Shards, where'd you get hit? I was more lucky than Qian, but shards, I could feel the sting through him." He makes a motion as if to encourage the green rider to show her wound, "'m sure I'll get scored next time."

Sniffling a little bit, Kyara pulls away from E'don and swipes at her eyes a bit, chuckling. "No, don't go out there for now. I've got plenty up here. How does rum strike you? Or just a good red?" She realizes he won't be used to the rather unique way she has seating arrangements made up in her weyr - a rather nice selection of cushions surround the low table she usually sits at with company or for meals, though there are a couple of comfortable chairs about for those who don't wish to be so low to the ground. "Take your pick," she says, gesturing to both and turning to a wooden cabinet sitting atop one of the nearby stone shelves. Picking up on his gesture, she pushes a little hair back behind ear and traces a finger from the side to the top of her right thigh over her skirt. "Here," she says. "And Lia caught a bit on her right foresail, but we're both pretty much healed up." Then, managing a slant of a smile, "If it were elsewhere, I'd let you see the battle scar, but." A "what-can-you-do" shrug of her own as she turns back to the cabinet. Then, with another worried furrow of brows to his last, "Don't say that. I mean, we won't know, but…just don't go in with that on your mind."

"I'll have whatever gets me to my destination fastest. But a red will do." He hesitates as he comes to the selection of pillows, and he squats awkwardly into one of the nearest pillows, long legs splayed out all awkward and gangly. For such a rawboned as E'don, he's going to look ridiculous sitting on pillows no matter how much he shifts. "Ah," that's the sound of E'don getting what Kyara is implying, and he tips his head in a cockeyed grin. "Bring the rum too. I wanna see it." He says this with a teasing squint, more cheek than anything else. "And ah, it's hard not to think about it. That was the scariest day of my life— hard to put it out of your mind."

Kyara will certainly concede the point. "Mine too," she murmurs with a shake of her head, pulling the red out of her cabinet. Then she's eying E'don askance as he drops to the cushions, giving him that Look that she's rather used to sending his way by now, and does pull out the rum as well. Being that it's her favorite and all, she has no qualms doing so. "Mmmm," she intones as she sits down beside him and passes him the bottle of wine, "of course you do. I think I'll have to have a good bit of this before that happens, though." She winks up at him and takes a sip from the rum, nudging his arm. Such a strange interplay of moods, here. But hey, it's coping, and it's likely they both damn well need it. With another sigh, she leans her shoulder lightly against his. "I'm glad you're here. Even with the bloody sandstorm."

Kyara’s nudge warrants the bronzerider to lazily drape it around her back as she leans into his shoulder, and he meets her look with an impish tilt of his head and just the slightly upward pull of his lips. “Oh, come on—at Southern, it’s a tradition to just get stark naked in front of your clutchmates.” But that’s where his teasing ends, and he lapses into silence as he reaches for the bottle of rum—priorities, of course. “I kind of felt right guilty about not getting scored. Almost all of my clutchmates did. But instead, Qian had to bear the brunt of it, even if it was only just a grazing wound.” His hand squeezes against Kyara’s outside shoulder, and he’s affirming with her the sentiment. “Yeah, me too. It’s good to get away from the Weyr and just turn off, you know? Over there, I’ve been having to salute and yell and keep order amongst the weyrlings. I mean, as much as I can, with Cerise being out of commission.” His free hand runs through his hair with another labored sigh. “It’s really good to not have to make sure you’re saluting me and calling me sir.” Presumably, he has the rum bottle now, and he’s probably taking a healthy sip. “Unless you want to.”

Relinquishing the rum willingly, Kyara chuckles, shaking her head as she settles into his arm. She may have taken a bit too much in that last sip; it flushes her face and burns enough in her throat that she just keeps quiet for a moment to let it pass. "Well," she comments finally, the smile fading from her lips, "maybe you'll get lucky. No way of knowing what'll happen one Fall to the next, but…we can always hope." The shoulder squeeze brings a contented sigh about, though, and his next has her grinning up at him a bit mischievously. "Saluting'll happen anyway. Sir-ing…will depend." Then her gaze turns thoughtful, her smile softening out of the impish realm. "Look at you. All responsible and such. And still you. I like it." She shifts a bit with a quiet laugh. "And you're pretty comfortable for being so skinny; how do you do that?"

“Ah, it’ll only be a matter of time before I get mangled up there. I’m not the most coordinated, or the best rider. But Qian has his head on straight.” E’don lets out a low, almost sad chuckle at the thought, and he’s turning to give Kyara a curious raise of one eyebrow. “Does it still hurt? I mean, what does it feel like to get scored. All I could sense was burning from Qian, but I figured, you know, it can’t be just like burning your hand on a hot ember or something.” He takes another swig of the rum before he’s passing it back the greenrider’s way, and he meets Kyara’s mischievous look with a curious smile. “Oy, what do y’mean depends?” He gives her shoulder another squeeze, and he bumps his touching shoulder back against hers for emphasis. “I can absolutely guarantee to you that I’m still as inept as the day you met me. And still as scrawny.” It’s only an afterthought that he catches whatever hint there might be. “And wait, really? You like it?” He looks pleased as punch. “You must be my first and only advocate!”

"You've still got plenty of time to hash out what sort of rider you'll be," Kyara tells him. "You'll be surprised just how much more there is to knock you around, beyond weyrlinghood. I certainly was. I still am." She turns her face into his shoulder again, sighing. "Our lifemates have their heads on straighter than ours most of the time, it seems like. Don't go getting mangled, though. I've…" She can't control the hitch that comes into her voice and pauses for a moment. "I saw enough of that in my nightmares before this, happening to the people I care about, and that's an impossible dream, so…don't." She takes the rum back and pulls at the bottle again, burning that thought away. "Getting scored…it burns and stings at the same time. It's a little hard to describe. It doesn't hurt me now, though. We just had to avoid between for a few days, though. For both our sakes." Having not eaten much yet today, a bit of a buzz begins warming around the edges of her mind as she moves on to his next. "Depends…on circumstances. Earning it. All that sort of thing." Perhaps she flirts a bit in her tone there, but she moves on from it quickly, smiling up at him once more. "Of course I like it. I've always liked you for you, certain quirks aside. We've all got those."

“Tell me about it.” E’don’s mind seems to wander, at least for a momentary check on the status of his dragon outside, a silent conversation that ends as quickly as it begins. “I’ll tell you; I still get shardin’ frightened every time I head ::between::. You always have this fear that you aren’t going to come back out.” He gives a slight shiver, before shifting closer to the greenrider with a mock-affronted look. “Wait, oy, whaddamean I have to earn it?” His chest puffs out with a smidgen of bravado, and he turns to take the bottle in another pull, smirking at the implications of her meaning. “I’ll have you know, greenrider, that in this here parts, men reign supreme.” He takes another pull, eyebrows waggling with a teasing tone. Clearly he’s joking. Hopefully. Her last comment gets an acknowledging ‘ah’ sound, and he swishes the bottle around for a silent moment of contemplation. “’Like’ like?” And then, E’don is smooth as always. “Like, enough to kiss for a bit?”

Kyara nods; she does understand the trepidation about ::between::, given that she had a similar issue with it for a while. Until their Incident. It even lingered for a bit after that. Then the joking earns him another Look with very raised eyebrows. "Is that so?" she laughs, shifting around to face him more fully under his arm. "And I'll have you know, bronzerider, that my weyr is not 'this here parts.'" For his last she turns a bit red and goes silent, then shoulders into him with some force, intending to knock him backward into the cushions behind them. She hesitates for a moment; she would, in fact, be willing to let hi kiss her…if there weren't for a sudden sticking point. Something to do with another bronzerider…and hadn't she told him, and herself, that she just wanted simple? She does just want simple. It's only a kiss; it doesn't have to mean anything, and yet… Sticking point. Interesting. She blinks at the realization, then smirks down at E'don. "Once," she tells him quietly. "One kiss. For being alive, hm? Then just…stay for a while. Leave it at that, alright?" She studies his face for a moment after that, earnestly, but gently. Quite an interesting thing, figuring out this definition of "simple" within herself.

Simple would be a good way to describe E’don. Simple minded and simple lived. Whatever internal conflict Kyara is warring on in her head, the bronzerider is oblivious to it. He just meets Kyara’s gaze with a confirming nod, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck with an awkward cough. “Right.” He laughs, softly, leaning back against the force of her ‘look’ with a honest grin. “I guess I’ll acquiesce to your request—it is your weyr after all.” And then he leans in to kiss her on the lips, far from a chaste peck, but not at all prying or forceful. Just soft and quick and simple; and surprise, not all half bad. Has E’don been kissing other ladies? “That’s for being alive,” he states matter-of-factly, before leaning back into the pillows. There’s a beat of silence, and then the bronzerider is back to his old, impish self. “Next time, maybe we can have sex just once!” Yeah, and he’s here to stay awhile.

Nope, not half bad, and Kyara does notice that, returning the kiss with equal soft simplicity - no heat, not really, but she does enjoy it. "Very nice," she tells him, half-whispered. And it was! But the more she thinks on whatever that sticking point is…no. She inwardly kicks herself; that isn't fair, not in this moment. She sighs, also laying back on the cushions. But of course, he has to tack on that last. "Don!" A backhand goes into his stomach. "If you…aaaagh. Just shut up." She scrubs a hand over her face, trying to rub the ensuing blush away. Qianvaelth may win one of Lia's flights at some point…but this whole thing isn't something Kyara sees fit to dwell on for the moment. And of course, she forgives the lanky man next to her quickly. He can stay. For now. And once the sandstorm blows through, she'll either kick him off her ledge, or introduce him to the Oasis Inn. Probably the latter. Probably.

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