Who

N'iel & Roxeauth, Zaria & Azrith

What

In the aftermath of Roxeauth's flight, N'iel and Zaria try to avoid awkwardness.

When

It is evening of the first day of the sixth month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Stables, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 08 Jul 2018 04:00

 

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"I hope you don't think this is some sort of strange attempt for me to get a Wingsecond position,"


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Stables

The powerful odor of hot runner lies heavy in the air here. Even the relative open of the stable design, with roomy stalls and lofty arches - incongruously, this must be one of the best designed buildings in the entire Weyr - cannot altogether dispel the stink of beast and the proceeds of such: leather and manure. The stables serve for the Weyr's population of runners, and house a small menagerie of other creatures. Avians, caprines and porcines all have their homes here, and all add to the earthy feel of the place.


The sun is dipping below the horizon by the time all is said and done. Poor Tzajal - it's a wonder he's not left pillows and blankets in the stables, given the use the place seems to get. At least there's plenty of hay, so there's something of a bed, and they've found a spot out of the way of the activity of the place. There's no lack of hay in N'iel's hair, as he sits up from his reclined position, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. Of all the people whose dragons Roxie could have tangled with, it just had to be his Wingleader, didn't it? He starts to reach around for clothes, opting not to look at Zaria for the moment while he gets himself organised. Roxeauth is on her ledge, languidly enjoying the aftermath of the whole thing, emanating smug happiness.

Returning to her senses slowly, Zaria blinks hazel eyes repeatedly until they come back into focus and she realizes she has hay in places hay should never be. Her second realization, coming on the heels of the first, is that she is quite naked. Snippets of memories trail through her mind, but if she tires to focus on one it evaporates. With a groan she props herself up on her elbows, eyes finally spying N'iel as he gathers his clothes. Fair skin turns bright scarlet in an instant as she quickly sits up with her back to the greenrider, reaching for her tunic that is thankfully nearby. Pulling it over her head, she finally feels clothed enough to go hunting out the rest of her outfit. Azrith for his part is partaking in some of that smugness Roxeauth is giving off, his usually arrogant mien downright cocky as he remains curled around the green. He's drowsy in the afterglow, perfectly content to let the lids fall heavily over his eyes as his tail reaches out to twine once more with her.

N'iel has located his underwear and is doing his best to put them on, while still sat on the floor. This also involves a lot of brushing hay from where hay shouldn't be, unless he wants to feel particularly itchy once he's got his clothes back on. He's a polite partner at least, purposefully not looking at Zaria while she deals with her own clothes. Ah, there's his top. And his trousers too. "I hope you don't think this is some sort of strange attempt for me to get a Wingsecond position," N'iel quips as he pulls his shirt on, then tries to bring some order to his hair. Roxie makes no attempt to twine with Azrith's tail; indeed, hers shifts subtly away. « Honey, hate to break it to ya, but there's only room for one dragon on this ledge. » Happy as she is to have satisfied her desires, now there's a male half-asleep on her ledge, she's got some thoughts on that matter.

When N'iel speaks, Zaria can't help but reflexively turn in his direction with the pure surprise of his statement, her own unmentionables dangling from her fingers. She stands there gawking for a moment before she remembers herself and turns back around to shimmy into her own small clothes before making a grab for her pants. "Ummmmm, I never thought such a thing. It'd be a pretty good trick though if you could get your green to pick mates based on which advancement opportunities." She scoffs nervously, knowing that such a thing is not how this works. Taking a deep breath to steady herself as she wiggles into her pants, she calls back over her shoulder, "I don't make it a habit of this kind of thing with my wingriders specifically. Or with males in general. Azrith is very good at keeping my preferences in mind when he chases, but your Roxeauth returned his flirting, so I knew it was inevitable." Is Zaria rambling? Cause it certainly feels like she is as she trails off into awkward silence. For his part, Azrith looks dismayed when his time with the leading lady is over, but he will acquiese to her wishes. Just very slowly as he foces his eyes open with a yawn and slowly stretches to his feet.

Well that joke went…not so well. N'iel stands up and steps into his trousers, still looking away from Zaria. He's had a few decades to get somewhat used to this, and he can recognise when his partner is uncomfortable. "Sometimes I wish it was that easy," he comments on the matter of getting Roxie to pick a mate of his choice. He's silent while Zaria talks, pushing hay aside with his foot as he looks for the boots that have got lost somewhere amongst the stuff. "Ah." Well, that does make a lot more sense, when Zaria talks about her preferences. "I am sorry. Roxie tends to prefer dragons with male riders, but I guess Azrith was tempting." That and both chasers were female-ridden, but he's not going to mention that. Roxeauth examines the talons on her forepaws as Azrith takes his time vacating her ledge. « Nothing against you honey, just a girl needs her space. » And her rider back - she'll have to work on that in a moment.

Yeah, jokes sometimes go way over Zaria's head, especially when she is distractedly trying to dig through piles of hay to find her right boot. When N'iel mentions his lifemate's preference for males with male riders, she makes all kinds of assumptions in her head, "Oh, so you are…as well?" she asks delicately, knowing that preference for one's own gender although perfectly acceptable in a Weyr, isn't something that's often openly talked about. "And yeah, when my boy puts on the charm, there are few greens can resist," there's a puff of pride with her words, probably residual leakage from her most ardent blue. For his part Azrith is now on his feet, shaking the kinks out of each one individually, tail flicking teasingly in the green's direction even though she looks like she's not paying him any more attention. Once finished, he arches his head in a polite bow and dips his wings reverently in her direction, « The pleasure of your company was more than enough even so brief it was. Perhaps we shall do it again sometime. » and with a one final croon he flips his wing open and lets himself fall off the ledge before catching a current over to his own ledge for the nap he so desperately craves.

N'iel finds a boot! Only, it looks a bit too small to be his. He bends to pick it up, finally daring to turn and look at Zaria. The footwear is held out towards her. "Uh," how to answer her question? "Sort of. I guess I don't particularly have a preference. More…what suits Roxeauth." He smiles ever so slightly when she talks about Azrith and his charms. "Roxeauth never could resist someone who flattered her. Though I think she rather fancied that brown, too." He gets an indignant feeling from his green that makes him cough into his fist to hide a laugh. Oh, there's a boot over there! He steps over and retrieves two more shoes, which turn out to be his. « Maybe we will, » Roxeauth says absently, but she's already lighting that mental cigarette and taking a long drag, her eyes and attention on the setting sun as she contemplates things. And waits for N'iel. Any time today, sweety.

"Oh thanks, I was just looking for that," Zaria says as she takes the boot from him and slips it on. To his explanation on his preferences, she just nods her head a little bit, "That makes sense I suppose…" she puzzles over the fact that N'iel seems not to have a preference of his own briefly before moving on. "Flattery is Azrith's forte. If it was a Craft, he'd be a Master," she jokes while tying up her boots and doing another cursory scan to make sure that she isn't leaving anything behind. Azrith isn't going anywhere once he begins his nap on his ledge, tail twitching happily in his sleep.

N'iel pushes his feet into his own boots, doing them up and tugging the laces tight. He shrugs at Zaria's reply, though whether the gesture will be seen or not will depend on where Zaria's looking. "He is quite the charmer," he says of Azrith, smiling down at his boots before, satisfied they're on, straightening up and stretching his arms up above his head, feeling his joints pop. He rocks on the balls of his feet for a moment, thinking of something to say next. "Ah - thank you. I'm glad it was someone I at least knew, this time around." He even manages to look at Zaria as he says it, a small, grateful smile on his face.

With her blush finally calmed from a bright crimson to a mere ruddy glow, Zaria can actually look N'iel in the eye with only the barest awkwardness to her smile. His thanks does illicit a small laugh, not really expecting that, "Umm..you're welcome. It is always better when you know someone." Hopefully the awkwardness of this little interlude won't affect their working relationship. "And umm..I guess I'll see you at drills tomorrow then?" she adds, rubbing at the back of her neck anxiously, hoping to segue herself into a hasty exit.

N'iel nods firmly, his eyes still warm as he holds that smile. "See you there." He's getting his own summons from a certain diva green, and he has nod esire to make Zaria hang around any longer than she wants to. He'll stay where he is, giving her freedom to leave the stables. Indeed, he'll even wait a few moments before exiting, to try and make things look less suspicous to any bystanders! For the Wingleader, as much as for himself.

And the blueriding wingleader will take that as her cue to exit stage right, slipping out of the stables and heading for the public baths since Zaria has some time to kill while Azrith naps off the after-effects of his successful flight.

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