Ksenia W'rin


W'rin executes the bet with Cha'el; all is fun and games until the end and the secret is out.


It is afternoon of the twenty-second day of the first month of the second turn of the 12th pass.


Sanctum Sanctorum, Igen Weyr

OOC Date



Sanctum Sanctorum

It is undeniable. A man does live in this cave. There is a musk that hangs in the air which tickles the nose of those who enter. The clues are subtle. No clutter hides in corners. In fact, the simpleness of the weyr is what makes it have that manly vibe. Table and chairs are cleared off of clutter, though the occasional out-of-place nick-nack speak of the sentimentality of the man who lives here. The large bed is neatly made, the soft touch of white linen sheets contrasting with the military precision which they are folded into. A gentle fire flickers on cold nights, with a kitchenette area nearby so that the weyrsecond can entertain. Perhaps it is the cabinet standing just slightly open, bottles of rum peaking out, or maybe the lack of lace anywhere which completes the manliness of this space.

Timor: moon6.jpg
Belior: moon3.jpg

-- On Pern --
It is 3:06 PM where you are.
It is afternoon of the twenty-second day of the first month of the second turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventy-ninth day of Winter and 32 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.

Igen's morning has turned into Igen's afternoon has turned, slipping from one bored segment of the day to another bored segment of the day. Ksenia is looking about as un-cousin-like as one can get, sitting on Cha'el's bed, dressed in nothing but one of Cha'el's shirts. She happens to be engrossed in a freshly made book that looks to be from the Harperhall. Maybe a gift? It's too new for her to have brought it with her for how long she's been a rumor lurking. Teeth nibble the corner of one lip as she turns the page, the title might say it all: Dark Lover. Yes. It is totally one of those bodice-ripper, trashy romance novels. Have some heart, it's not like there's anything ELSE to do in Cha'el's weyr. She's even claimed a section of it — being a neat woman and all, but there's hints of hair ribbons and clothing and other female accoutrements.

"Cha'el? We having a meeting." W'rin's voice echoes into the weyr a moment before the man steps in, looking decidely unlike he's looking for his weyrsecond. Normal neatly pressed leathers are ditched for loose light weight pants, easy to shed shirt, in deed the mountain of a man looks more ready to enter The Pit, or work out, than go to work. Nevermind the strange, though mostly hidden, shadows of movements tucked into his trou'. Eyes quickly fall on the brownrider's bed. CousinNotCousin? Daaaaamn. The weyrleader can no longer really fault his 'second for his tastes. Mostly. The scantly clad woman is given the lift of an eyebrow, and with a couch he appropriately turns his eyes away. "Sorry, ma'am. Just looking for Cha'el. Know when he'll be back?" Yep. Totally what he's doing here.

Ksenia — her inner sanctum breached — lifts her head for a comical reaction of jaw dropping and eyes widening. It's for the way the man just waltzes into the weyr like he owns it — not realizing he kind of does, being Weyrleader and all — that gets her hustling off the bed and tossing the book on it. She stays with the bed between her and W'rin, where possible. "Yeah, well he's not here. I don't know where he is." She waves her hand imperiously, "Flying in the sky or something. Meetings? I don't know what he does when he's not here." She edges closer to something on the floor, trying to hook it with her toe while folding her arms across her chest and giving W'rin one raised brow. Her expression clearly says it all: He can leave now.

She's asking the weyrleader to read facial expressions. Fail. Of course, as she never leaves the weyr it would be hard to blame her for the mistake. "Aye?" W'rin's other brow lifts to meet the other, "Well, he's weyrsecond. So mostly he and I keep the place running, and thread from killing everyone." Gaze levels on the book on the bed, that seems a safe enough place to keep one's eyes. Leave? Clearly, that look really means make yourself at home, and the man steps even deeper into the weyr. "Not bad digs he's got here, but the food in the caverns ain't bad. Gotta be better than what ever Cha' brings ya. S'not like your a prisoner. You're welcome to our food, as the weyr's guest." Keep the 'second well bed, and it is bound to have good effects on the running of the place, right? A few more steps and he's well into the cave. "Smells a little funky, doesn't it?"

"Cha?" Ksenia looks blankly at the man that doesn't stop moving. The thing she's hooked with her toe is transferred to her fingers with a little hop and and bend down. A little shimmy and finally, some pants. Well, skirt. But at least she's no longer so indecently dressed. "You -" She tears her eyes from the Weyrleader and looks about for something, muttering, "- are another fancy pants dragonrider, of course". It's just too damn bad that she threw everything over the edge of the ledge or smashed everything already. "I'm fine," sharp is the tone that comes with the upraise of chin. "Am I? Cha'el has kept me hidden away in here." Her eyes narrow as some hint of ire is raised. "But he makes sure I have food." Where is Cha'el, anyway? "Does it? I haven't noticed any strange smell." Then again, she's acclimated. "You can just — " don't say it, Ksenia, " — leave. He's not here, baba. But I'll be sure to let him know," there's the hint of fire in the sharp smile she gives him, "you stopped by." She totally follows up with some shooing motions. Begone, beast! No respect, this one.

To W'rin's credit, he turns around while she pulls on more appropriate clothing. Any other facial expressions, which would have little effect on the man, are missed anyway until the end. For now, she'll just have to talk to his back, "Just another fancy pants dragon rider?" He snorts softly, but doesn't correct, at least on the title. "Well I perfer tights, most days, but yes. Just another dragonrider." No need for formality, at least with what is about to take place. "Ga'ji." The man offers his name, "Ah now, see. I can't leave. Here on orders from the weyrleader to get Cha'el. I'll be damned if I show up without him." Lips peel away from teeth in an unpracticed smile, "I know your Cha'el's woman, but that's one knot I won't disobey. I'll just have to wait here." The man goes the opposite way the shooing would indicate.

"On orders from the Weyrleader?" Ksenia's jaw drops again. "How in Faranth's shell would you know I'm Cha'el's woman?" Her tawny brown eyes narrow as she comes to one conclusion. "Exactly what is Cha'el saying out there?" she questions, brows drawing in, but that thought flies out the window when the man doesn't go in the direction she's shooing him to. She chokes. "You — you — you wear tights?" Is that laughter that's getting squeezed from a throat that's not sure whether to be worried or not? Perhhhhaps. "Don't you have a dragon that can speak to his, Ga'ji?" now she's suspicious. "You can wait outside." And when W'rin enters the weyr even more, she's bending down to scoop up a shoe. Hey, it's not like there's a lot of weapons here. "On the ledge. Cha'el will be back…" Or his ass is grass, and she's just the lawnmower to kill it.

"Yep." Which is technically the truth, so what if he gave himself the orders. "Cha'el and I are close. He talks." Angry woman eyes, he recognizes those, "Uh..He says he has a beautiful and smart woman who likes to stay in his weyr. A little shy, but very nice, he says." As for her laughter, arms cross over his barreled chest, "Tights, which several women have told me are rather nice. And are functional either way." His eyes narrow this time, "If I knew where he was. The …" He waves his hand through the air of nothingness, "Is a big space." Apparently, it is make up stuff day. "As I recall this isn't your weyr. And I will wait here, per the weyrleader's instructions." Closer, closer he steps. Slowly. "So, show me around?"

"He said that?" Ksenia's tone is dubious at best over the fanciful words this male tries to ply her with. "Tights are for sissies." That is flatly stated, not hint of laughter given. "Just another way for a dragonrider to pretend to be cock of the walk. No one, and I mean no one wants to see that." So she has strong opinions here on dress. Her fingers tighten around the shoe in her hand, readying herself just in case. "This is my weyr for as long as I'm here!" Yes, she's laying claim to this domain of the brownrider's. "Show you around? You've seen it all. Now you can leave." Yes, she attempts to give him the cut direct, holding out her arm and pointing towards the ledge. "Now." Demanding, demanding.

"Yep." It's the word of the day, the sissy comment only draws a slow easy grin from the giant of a man who lurks in "her" weyr. "It isn't just a weyrleader thing, it is Igen's style. If you ever left the weyr you'd know that." The man draws easy enough as he just shows himself around instead, "Not a bad little kitchen, eh? Your man's done well with his knot. Though I would have though he'd let you decorate his weyr more. You know. He being the one with the dragon, and actually doing things for the weyr. What do you do that would give you claim over some piece of Igen? Sit around all day reading dirty books?" Popping open a cabinet like he owns more of the place than she, he snoops around, "I know the man keeps whiskey, you and I are going to want some. You see, there has been a small wager placed." And with that he draws a long piece of rope from his pants, no wonder he couldn't wear tights today, and places it on the counter (easily with in grabbing reach should she make a move for it). "But before we do that, lets say we have a shot? Hmm?" And drawing himself up to full height, now with whiskey and glasses in tow, he pours.

Ksenia's ears are sharp and they note the slip of the man's tongue — Weyrleader?? Warily does she watch him prowl around among Cha'el's things, anger slowly building within when he opens the cabinet she can't help but snap out, "Hey, don't touch that! That's not YOURS!" Scooting around the bed, she chances a close encounter to slam the cabinet door shut, assuming he's not got a death grip on it. "What do I do? Well I WAS a trader until I was brought here — what the fuck is that." The shoe is still in her hands and she looks like she's about to go for that long piece of rope when she's comically halted by something else the man says. "Excuse me." Deadly calm, knuckles crushing the shoe in hand, "Wager?" She shakes her head, "I am not doing a shot with you and did you just say wager?" Her eyes skip to the rope and then she's throwing the shoe at W'rin's head and running for the ledge. Hey, fight or flight doesn't mean one really thinks about these things.

"Aye? Well you aren't now. And I know he won't mind." Nevermind, how he knows. The cabinet slams barely a moment after W'rin has pulled away from him, calmling pouring two shots, despite her protest, "Are you sure? I really think it might help." Perhaps not completely aware how that could be taken, a paw wraps around his glass to throw it back. It isn't fully swallowed when a shoe careens into the side of his head, groaning mildly he grabs at his nose as whiskey fills his nostrils. Gross. "Well. We were going to place nice." The royal 'we' apparently is now in use, as the currently-not-claiming-to-be-weyrleader weyrleader looks after the woman. "Aye. Wager. See when I said, he said 'nice', what he really said was 'has a bite'. Not that he seemed to mind…" The man trails off, scooping up the rope as he stalks towards the ledge, "So I said I could take you." Nothing too worry about, really, just let the nice MOUNTAIN of a man tie you up with rope. "I wouldn't go out there, less room to move around, and no where to go but down. You'd be better off in here."

"WHAT DID YOU WAGER?!" Ksenia's yelling now, skidding to a halt when she espies Valiuth on the ledge, and that is not Sikorth out there too. Where the fuck is Cha'el? Where the fuck is Sikorth? Butterball — Cha'el's firelizard — is out on the safety of the ledge, where she left him to sun and continue to relax from his injuries. So no help there. She careens back into the weyr, grabbing for the first thing that comes to hand to throw at W'rin. Which happen to be a pair of dirty underwear of Cha'el's. Is he a boxers or briefs guy? Who cares, they're sailing at W'rin's head. "You… Take me… Is this… WHAT DID CHA'EL WAGER TO?" She's come to alllll the wrong conclusions. Life's a bitch when you've got only one room to run around in. "WHAT IS WITH THE MEN OF THIS WEYR AND KIDNAPPING?! DO YOU GET YOUR TWIGGY LITTLE ROCKS OFF IT?!"

"Drinks I think." W'rin comments as if nothing were really awry. The man isn't exactly use to dodging things, morely likely to take a hit and continue on path of intent, but even he will let out a yelp — a really MANLY yelp — as Cha'el's dirty panties come his way. Boxers, briefs, they could be lace for all the weyrleader knows, as soon as he sees what they are he changes course, sending him into a bit of furniture which scoots under his weight. "Fuckin'…" It doesn't deter him for long and long strides are taking him back towards the woman, "Kidnapping?" There isn't time to process that she's also accusing Cha'el of kidnapping instead he's only defending himself. Badly. "Kidnapping? No no. We aren't going anywhere. Everything happens right here." Because that will clear it all up. His pace picks up.

"I will bite off your manhood and feed it to your dragon before anything happens right here." Ksenia throws just about everything she can get her hands on: clothing, ink and stylus, hides, papers. Even a stuffed cat flies at his face as once again, Cha'el's weyr is turned to shambles. "I will curse you to be old and feeble long before your time and I will rip your tongue from you mouth and stomp on it before you'll ever touch me." There are a few things she doesn't touch, though she almost considers throwing them, too. But the alcohol bottles? Those are fair game, the cabinet divested of it's liquid glories to go sailing at W'rin. "YOU AREN'T TOUCHING ME YOU RUTTING, OVERSEXED BASTARD!" Wroooooong conclusion. Glass surely shatters a few times, though she's wildly erratic in her aim so W'rin could EASILY dodge these bottles.

"Fiesty, he was right. No wonder he likes you so much." Ink, papers, hides, bounce off like they are nothing, clearly the man has been through this sort of feminine fit before. The most annoying of things thrown are the clothes. Having pull them from face and other places they wrap around. "I'm already older than I should be. Weyrl…Riding will do that. Not much of a curse." The fuzzy FELINE is caught, looked at begrudgingly, really Cha'el? Stuff animals? And tossed to the side. "Hey, now, no need to draw the good alcohol into this. Cha'el was supposed to give me some of that when I win." Still, she's in the confines, at least more than before, of the cabinet space, and even while denying any claim to this being a sexual incounter, makes a grab for the woman's waist, "SEX? Just what are you getting at?" Lunge.

"CHA'EL," Ksenia's voice bellows in a fit of female outrage and fury. "CHA'EL DID THIS?! MY CHA'EL?" Not that he's going to be anyone's Cha'el for long … if he manages to live through the aftermath of this. "Win what? What are you — " When the Weyrleader makes a grab for her waist, the woman is all nails and kicks and teeth and claws. Not that W'rin, the mountain of the man he is, will really feel much, but she's got some power to those fists of hers and she's got some power to the bare-footed kicks she tries to deliver as well as going for the coup-de-grace: a knee to the groin. That, he might feel if she's successful. "I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU TOUCH ME." She will use her teeth, too, if given a chance. "You dragon riders are all the same! Rutting bastards!" That he's so calm? Just infuriates her more.

"Who else would?" W'rin mumbles all the while trying to get arms about the flailing woman. No, fists and nails illicit little response from the weyrleader, "Win the beeehhhhhheeee…" The sound of escaping wind reaches an octave that a saprano would be proud of as her foot comes into contact with the man's jewels. His eyes unfocus for a moment, before the water starts to pool, but fighting through the searing pain he struggles forward, "Fuckin' women. Never play fair." He snorts softly, "Well I have to touch you, cause I very well doubt you're just going to sit in the chair and let me tie you up. And I have to win the bet with Cha'el. You see? To humilate him." A pause. "In a friendly way." It's all very logical when you look at it, from the weyrleader's titled point of view.

A wild light flashes in Ksenia's eyes when she gets him in the family jewels, but it's no surprise when this momentary victory does not immediately fell the man that she goes back to fighting. It's W'rin's explanation that causes a chink in her fight, which might provide the opening he needs to capture slender wrists. "Tie me up?" This incredulity is felt in her very bones, in the stuttering way that sentence slips out. "Humiliate… him?" This lull in the eye of the storm is slowly squeezing shut as very real anger burns within the woman. "HUMILIATE HIM? HIM?!" Now the fighting resurges in earnest, though it might be moot at this point.

"Yes, tie you up." Really, W'rin sighs, is this so hard to understand. Hands do manage to wrap around wrists, and were they not so meaty would perhaps circle twice, but as it is he's still dealing with her clawing and gnashing of teeth. "You're protecting him? After he sent me up here to do this? Women. I'll never understand." Meanwhile, the man is searching for a chair, and coming with nothing, what the hell happened in this place? And then he spots the chair. Commense dragging.

"I am NOT DEFENDING that no-good fucking scoundrel blackheart of a PRIDEFUL FARANTH-FUCKING DRAGONRIDER!" Ksenia yells, "But I DAMN sure am not going to let you tie me up for a damn bet. I am out for no one but ME!" She's spitting mad, literally. Spitting at W'rin so that something, surely lands on his face. But she's caught, and she's dragged, but you better believe she's dragging all of her weight to prevent this from happening. She does not plead or beg, she's all fire and bite and scratch. It won't be hard, however, to overcome her. He's got size on his side as well as the fact that he's already got her wrists in his hands. "I hate you. I will KILL you. I will KILL Cha'el." She's breathing heavily, dark reddened espresso hair hanging in her face, but there's not a happy homecoming in her eyes for this girl. She glares death upon the Weyrleader of Igen Weyr.

"Well, that's something, I guess." W'rin who is so rarely in good humour seems rather pleased, almost jovial even as teeth sink in, leaving another mark that will be *extremely* hard to explain to his weyrmate. And then there's the spit in the eye, spit that he cannot rightly wipe away without letting go, so it'll just have to sit there and fester. As for her proclamation of hatred, as he tosses her into the chair, is received with only laughter. Victory. "Aye. He had me thinking you weren't such a wee thing. Thought I'd have more of a struggle." And with that the rope, while trying to maintain control of the woman, starts a slow wind round both her and the chair. "You spit venom, woman. Never did catch your name."

"Your death. My name is your death," Ksenia spits when she's dragged to the chair and slowly tied up. Her own body is going to sport some bruises of her own making, from arms and legs that knocked into things as she flailed. "More of a struggle?" The rush of energy can last only so long, having a finite well from which to tap. Her chest heaves. "MORE of a struggle?" She's outraged, and angry, and beneath all of that is a hurt that runs deep. "You'll never know my name. NEVER." Until Cha'el gives it up, anyway. Assuming Cha'el lives or doesn't become a eunuch after this. But as the rope secures her to the chair, there isn't much else she CAN fight. "What," bitterly does she spit this word out, "did that brownrider wager you, Weyrleader?" She flings his title at him like it's dirty. "You and your Weyrsecond can hang off your own penises. Manhandling women. What? Didn't he tell you how he kidnapped me?" Oh, whupsie Cha'el. Was that cat supposed to not get let out? Ksenia is poison when she's vengeful!!

"Strange name, Venom Lady." Which is apparently what W'rin will call her from now on. As for the cat being out of the bag, the weyrleader can do little but shrug, "Aye. All in good fun." For them anyway. No one was really going to be hurt except for maybe the bronzer. "Yes, more of a struggle. He bet a sevenday salary on you besting me." The man ties off the knot and steps away to admire his handy work, "Seems he had more confidence in you than he should have. Really thought he was going to make a killing. Probably would have bought you something nice." See the weyrleader can try and clean things up for his .. "HE FUCKING DID WHAT?!" The rage is sudden, and explosive. From calm victor to angry weyrleader. Not that he hasn't just tied the girl to a chair. "WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON THAT FUCKING MAN!" And apparently forgetting what he has just finished, the man turns on his heels to storm out of the weyr. He'll get to the bottom of this mess!

"Good fun?" Ksenia's teeth grind as anger sours every word that comes out of her mouth while she's trussed up like sunday brunch. An angry, satisfied smile curves her lips when the Weyrleader catches onto Cha'el's folly. However, it doesn't quite have the results she was looking for, which was release. As the Weyrleader storms out, an expression crosses her features that has little to do with anger and a lot to do with a sudden worry and then she's left alone. Alone to stew. And get all prune-y in the anger that she swims in while waiting for Cha'el to come "home". A "home" that SO RECENTLY reminded her she has no place in. (Thanks, W'rin). Quiet. With only Butterball — poor, flightless Butterball — to keep her company. Into the silence of the weyr, the girl finally asks a question to no one, "But. But what if I have to pee?" The wind is her only answer as afternoon eclipses to evening.
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