====December 16, 2013
====D'ymi, Sienna
====Flight-aftermath log with a bonus offer.

Who D'ymi, Sienna
What Flight-aftermath log with a bonus offer.
When There are 0 turns, 5 months and 15 days until the 12th pass.
Where Cold Storage



Cold Storage
Halite forms a thick, hoary frost on the walls, forever preserving the contents held within and offering up a somewhat bitter aftertaste to the still, chilly air. Frozen solid, carcasses are stacked like grotesque statuary against the far reaches of the walls, row upon row of foot-tagged herdbeast and fowl gleaming amid solid blocks of ice. The wintry chill of the place does little to dissipate the stench of blood that hangs,ominous, in the air; dry, coppery, permanent. The floors are covered in hides to contain any melt-off, while raised walkways between the aisles of food prevent contamination by human foot traffic and make it more difficult for the occasional pest to get at the Weyr's precious foodstuffs.

Sienna hauled D'ymi down into her lair…into the cold storage. Because nothing says sexy quite like half slabs of herdbeast, right? Up against the wall, her skirt makes itself very useful. You know what they say. Once you go black… "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Sienna whimpers against his tunic as her senses return to her and she leans back to peer /up/ at him, blinking. "Fuck."

"Usually, I get that reaction during, not after, but right now…" D'ymi is careful to keep his forehead from freezing to the wall, with the end result being that he can't actually just keep his face hidden above her head. He glances down at her, rueful. "Maybe I'm inclined to agree. Do you think he won't notice?" It's a totally vain hope. He knows that, but he's asking anyway.

Sienna squirms, pushing at him so she can get…uh. Off. And down. "What? Not notice? Um. No. He'll notice. Shit. SHIT he's Weyrleader again." She gives him a fleeting glance and then hastily straightens her clothes, tugging, yanking, wrapping her arms around herself and twitching. Hardly a 'thanks, that was great fun'. No, she looks downright agitated and creeped out.

"Yeah, I kinda… got the idea that you guys were trying to avoid that," D'ymi notes, putting his own ahem to rights in an unhurried-but-really-efficient fashion. "I take it Valiuth didn't agree with your plans." And if this whole Thread-fighting thing doesn't work out, he can pick up a second career as a Stater of Really Obvious Statements.

Sienna pushes curls away from her face, squirming a bit and shifting her hips. Ugh. Ugh. "We were in /Keroon/," she mutters. "In /Keroon/ to avoid this. He wanted to not be Weyrleader. But Valiuth came back here anyway. Chased anyway. Fucking /won/ anyway…"

"Hey," D'ymi says quietly, hand hovering at her shoulder, then ever-so-gently lighting on it (and easily shrugged away, if it comes to that). "No reason he can't, you know… Delegate stuff. Have at least some free time, you know?" Or in other words: he has no idea what the problem is and is guessing wildly.

Sienna twitches back from D'ymi's touch, frowning at him. "You don't know what you're talking about," she snaps, only to look guilty and apologetic. "No, it's… it's complicated. Lots of reasons for it, but…no. It's…done. I have to go." And she turns to leave.

D'ymi lifts his hand quickly enough, raising it in a shrug, but reaches out with his words to stop her: "He's probably not done, you know."

Sienna stops to look back at him, her expression frowning. "Well. I am." Harsh! "I need to get back to our weyr. I…what's your name?" Damn. Awkard.

"D'ymi." That hand reaches up, rubbing along his scalp. "Listen, Sienna," because of course he knows her name, "thanks for keeping me from splitting my head open." Rueful.

Sienna nods, "D'ymi," she repeats. And yes, of course he knows her name… "What?"

"With, you know." Mimed punch to the jaw. "The fighting, and all. You caught me. Thanks." Yeah, okay, this is awkward; maybe it would be easier if she would just go, so D'ymi can go back to basking and freezing in turns.

Sienna ohs, and then she pales. "Shit. He got in a fight." She just remembered that and now she needs to go to the infirmary for infirmary stuff, in case he needs it. Because he got in a /fight/. Damn it all.

"Technically, the fight came looking for him," D'ymi points out, not really helping. On the other hand, he wasn't the one who knocked himself out on W'rin's fist, either.

Sienna sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. "I'm glad you didn't get caught in the fight," she says, genuine in that at least, despite all the epic /awkward/ that's going on in her mind.

"Yeah, thanks." The awkward isn't actually limited to Sienna's mind; D'ymi has some of it, too. He rubs his hand over his scalp again. "Listen — " And then he stops.

Sienna tilts her head and waits, arms wrapped around her torso.

Okay, okay, fine: D'ymi capitulates, catapult-like. "If you need someone to talk to, at some point, who knows how to keep his mouth shut, about whatever." One bony-strong shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Say whatever else you want about me, but I'm pretty easy to pick out of a crowd."

Sienna blinks, a bit, well…startled. She doesn't even know him. Sure, they just had sex, but. His offer takes her by surprise. "Oh. Well. Uh. Thanks, D'ymi. Thanks. I'll remember that." And she smiles. Just a bit, but it's there. "And yeah, you certainly are," she adds, peering /up/ at him again. Way up there.

"Just— do me one favor, okay?" D'ymi adds, solemnity vanishing in a twinkle of his deep-brown eyes. "Don't go out of your way to give him reasons to pummel me for this, would you?"

Sienna winces, and shakes her head. "I…don't think he will. It's a flight," she mumbles, though more as if she's trying to convince /herself/ of that. "He's never had issue with my winners before, so. No, I won't. No reason to. You were…well. Not a gentleman, we just had sex in…how the faranath did we get in here anyway? But, uh. No. I won't. I wouldn't. It's…it was a flight," she stammers a bit, shaking her head and looking herself over before she smirks. "I won't."

D'ymi laughs, shaking his head: "Go get your first-aid package and fuss over him, and if he tries to bring it up, just turn it right back around and point out that he broke his nose and didn't do anything about it — that's my advice, anyway. And I'll… see you, I guess." He glances back at a certain spot on the wall, and a certain scuffing upon the floor. "I'll sweep up."

Sienna shakes her head with a little smile. "I…do not fuss over W'rin." It's complicated, their relationship. She glances at the wall and squirms a bit, clearing her throat. "Thanks," she says, and then she's gone. AWKWARD.

"That's why it would work!" D'ymi calls after her — and then chuckles to himself, rubs his hand over his scalp again, and gets to cleaning up before he freezes. (Or, alternatively, decides to move in down there, forsaking his weyr for the sake of getting out of the endless heat. Even odds.)

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