==== December 30, 2013
==== Cha'el, Erissa
==== Cha'el's efforts to make a point go astray.

Who Cha'el, Erissa
What Cha'el's efforts to make a point go astray.
When It is the 87th day of Summer.
Where Danorath's Den, Igen Weyr

Chael8.png erissa17.jpg


Room


Characters


Log

It is late night
It is 10:21 PM where you are.
There are 0 turns, 4 months and 3 days until the 12th pass.
It is the eighty-seventh day of Summer and 78 degrees. It is a clear night.

Evening time. Finally. Today had been way too long. All Erissa wanted to do was rest and ice her sore shoulder. While she thoroughly enjoyed most of her duties as a rider, especially anything involving flying, drilling with firestone sacks was definitely an exception. She'd started to wonder if some sort of newbie prank was being played on her when the sacks started to get heavier and heavier but, not wanting to show any lax on her part, had gritted her teeth and swung them as efficiently as any other. But now she was paying for it. After such a hard day she had figured a little cheating might be allowable and fetched some precious ice to put on her shoulder. Now, clad in only a red crop top that was more lingerie than shirt and a comfortable pair of baggy pants, she rests in the one chair she now owns with towel-wrapped ice on her shoulder and blond head lying back. Danorath slumbers peacefully in his couch nearby.

« Danorath. Stand to. We come! » That’s all the warning the sturdy blue will get and that delivered in the thunder of a drill instructor calling his troops to attention. From above and in an aerial feat most wouldn’t relate to a brown, especially one of his size, Sikorth drops in on a perpendicular landing, wings kicking up a gust of wind. Before the sand has even settled, his rider slips from his neck and casts about the unfamiliar ledge. Dressed in a white linen drawstring shirt (left casually undrawn) with long sleeves and wearing a pair of black linen trousers neatly tucked into his boots, Cha’el wears an expression of determination as he awaits the weyr’s occupant.

A quick brush of ocean wind marks mental acknowledgement of that announcement, the equivalent of a jaunty dragonic temple salute. Then Danorath is informing his rider of their incoming guests and her response is simply to grin and bid her blue welcome their company. Pale lashes remain lowered over closed eyes as she continues her restful pose complete with long legs propped up on the low table, ankles crossed.

For several moments longer Cha’el lingers out on the ledge. Safe territory. Eventually, when it appears that Erissa’s not coming out, he casts a narrowed look Danorath’s way (for lack of having his rider to pin it to) and he heads on in. What he finds, while half expected, nonetheless, is a vision for the eyes and being a red-blooded male, he’ll take a good long look. From the ledge beyond comes a dry snort from Sikorth. “Erissa. We need to talk.” The brownrider’s baritone cuts through the silence of the weyr, his inward path halted just inside of the archway, features set about an unreadable line and hands shoving into the pockets of his trousers. Yeah. He’s not coming aaaany closer.

At the sound of his voice Erissa slowly opens her eyes, demeanor that of a sleepy feline - or in this case a stalking wildcat. Turning her head, dark blue eyes find Cha'el and she smiles as if surprised to see him. Lifting one hand she rolls an inviting gesture in the air, saying, "Cha'el. Of course we do. Come on in. Have a seat." In what appears to be a leisurely shifting stretch she arcs her back off the chair and sits up straighter, conveniently straining the functionality of the low cut crop top. Expression completely amiable she looks him over from head to toe once and adds, “Relax a little, flyboy, you look ready to split a seam if you get any tighter."

Now there’s feline type stretches going on and straining low cut tops and…Cha’el groans inwardly and snaps his attention away to put interested study to the table her feet had been resting on. It lifts back up again when he’s offered seating. A poker-hot memory flashes to mind. Aheheh. No. “I’m fine here,” he states, rocking back on his heels, attempting to deliver a nonchalant air. The playful chiding from Erissa is ignored save for the faint set of jaw before he pins her with an intent look. “Why are you here and don’t give me some crap about the obvious. Here. In Igen.” His chin jerks downwards to indicate the location of the rock he’s standing on.

Lower lip juts out a bit in a pretty pout at Cha'el's refusal. Erissa sits up even further with a long-suffering sigh and adjusts the towel on her shoulder so it doesn't fall off. White-blond layers sway as she turns her head, a few spilling over one eye, and feet drop from the table to the thick rug on the floor. "Really?" she asks, pale brows arching as she returns that steady look. "You're really going to carry on a conversation with me from across the room?"

Long legs. Long shapely legs and the peek-a-boo of taunting dark blue eyes behind ash-blonde hair. Focus! Stop thinking with your…Broad shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. “Can you not hear me from where I am?” Cha’el remains exactly where he is, all too aware that he’s stepped into the den of a wild feline.

Ok. Fine. If he wants to stand in the doorway then she will accommodate him. Rising from her chair, fluid grace would appear natural rather than intentional if not for the alluring fit of clothes that both hint and reveal at the same time, combined with an added sway to slender hips as she approaches the brownrider. It's obvious the woman is on the prowl! "Aw, come on, Cha'el," she practically purrs. "I don't bite, ya know." Full lips quirk to one side as she stops in front of him and drapes fingers lightly down the side of one arm, blue-gray hues filled with shadows of a shared past. "Well, not always anyway."

It takes everything within Cha’el’s willpower to remain where he is and not back up a step. Well aware of the danger the alluring bluerider presents, he utters a quiet snort on the matter of biting for he can bear witness to the fact that yes, yes she does. Ahem. Back to the reason he’s even here. Ocean-blue eyes narrow, the muscles beneath her touch flickering in response, “What are you doing here, Erissa?” Same question, phrased another way. “Why are you going around talking about me to people you don’t even know?” And while there’s steel to his voice, there is for the moment, no bite.

He may try to hide it but Erissa can feel the attraction and it rebounds ten-fold on her end. Feeling the way his muscles tremble beneath her touch she smiles, a softly sensual curve of lips, and moves to stand a little closer. Still favoring the arm with the iced shoulder she lifts the other higher and brushes his jaw with the back of a finger. His last question draws a flicker of shadow across pale brows, dark blue hues lifting to his with a searching look. She heard the steel alright, and a bit of it peeks out in return from behind smoky veils. "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"

The moment slender fingers go traipsing over his jaw, Cha'el stiffens. His body roars for one thing while his mind and heart go reeling in the opposite direction. But he doesn't move. Hands still in pockets the brownrider fits Erissa with a long, long look while he searches for the right words. "Erissa," her name spoken in a low rumble of sound followed by a long pause. This would be so much easier if he was a jerk. "You know why. I had to get out of there. A place opened up here and so I took it." There's a faint shake of head and an unhappy compression of lips. "You and me…" Finally a hand unpockets and lifts to rake through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "What happened back in Ista. I wasn't in a very good place, aye? And I should've stayed the fuck away after that goldflight but…" He was broken (still is in some ways) and on the rebound. But it gets left unsaid.

Erissa nearly melts under the weight of that long, lingering gaze. Blue eyes like the deep blue ocean threaten to drown her in their depths. When he says her name she physically tips a little closer, the gravel-voiced sound like honey to her ears. Some of what he goes on to say registers more than others, and the parts she chooses to hear only make her heart ache for him all the more. "No," she corrects gently, and since he hasn't protested her touch she lets her raised hand drop to set palm flat on his chest. Oooo, how the feel of that hard packed muscle sends her memory racing….. "No!" she repeats firmly. "You were right to stay. You needed someone and I was there. Cha'el, what we had was good. I… I understand you had to get away from what had happened with… with them. But I'll always be here for you."

Man, she was making this so hard. Cha’el huffs out a breath and shakes his head in negation of what she’s saying. How else to put it to her without being a complete arsehole? Knowing how he’d felt when… Resolve firms. Hands lift and palm to either side of the delicate structure of Erissa’s jaw. “Erissa, look at me.” The brownrider’s voice is a low plea for understanding. “You’re a beautiful woman. Strong, opinionated, passionate but its never gonna happen with us. It was a goldflight that Sikorth lost and you were there and…” Lips purse, a frown beginning to form, he was fucking this up, wholesale. “We’re both riders, we know how that goes. It’s the dragons and has nothing to do with what we do or don’t want. I will always be your friend but I can’t be anything more than that.”

Damn him for being so direct, both physically and verbally! With her face captured in his hands she can’t look away to be distracted by his gorgeous build. So look at him she does. Breath quickening, the rise and fall of generous curves tempt the plunging neckline of her shirt, stomach a fluttering mass of butterflies beneath bared naval. Sure that her heart is beating right out of her chest she catches her lower lip with her teeth as she listens. Poor, poor man! He doesn’t even know how badly he needs her. Lucky for him she is determined enough for both of them. The compliments he gives make her glow, the rest is chalked up to damaged delusions.

“I know, I know,” she soothes, the fingers on his chest spreading and sliding across a hard-packed peck. Her other hand rises as far as she dares with the towel on her shoulder, palm setting near his lower ribs and sliding to his side. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. If you need anything. If you need me. You only have to ask.” Actually he doesn’t even have to ask, but she leaves that unsaid.

Poor Cha’el. He totally buys it. From the catch of teeth to lip to those earnestly spoken words Erissa soothes with. The hand slipping across his chest and the one settling to his side, those, however, engender responses completely contradictory to the conversation at hand. This celibacy stuff is hard! Dropping his hands away from her face, a rueful smile crooking to a corner of his mouth, the brownrider takes a step back. “Same goes for you, Erissa. It’s hard being the new face in the Weyr. You need anything, you just shout, aye?” Turning to where Sikorth awaits beyond on the ledge, mottled hide blending in with rock and sand, there’s a nod at something passed on mentally and Cha’el turns back to the slender bluerider. “We good?”

Pale lashes flutter over gray-shadowed blues, Erissa's expression the epitome of chagrined damsel. Drawing a deep breath to engender sympathy she really uses it to steady the erratic play of electricity that's coasting over her skin from being so close to her brownrider; touching him, his hands on her face, those beautiful ocean hues looking into hers. When he steps back there's a harsh sense of loss which solidifies into determination as he speaks. He's so thoughtful!!

Nodding her head she gives him a smile, tone laying a silky undertone to her words. "Oh, I will." As he turns to go she crosses her arms, fingers hugging the opposite arm, tousled white-blond layers askew as always, and baggy pants slung loosely around slender hips. That should leave him an image that will be hard to dispel! His final query earns another nod, full lips crooking a little to one side. "Uh-huh."

Only when he's gone does she slowly turn, smile widening with anticipation given new hope. He was worse off than she'd realized! Like a wounded wild animal that resisted care but needed it to heal. She saw right through his guise!

«What now?» comes a wispy mental query. Danorath's touch is cautious at first but grows confidant, reading and reflecting the emotions that stir his rider.

«The man clearly needs me.»

«Oh, clearly.»


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