Igraine, A'lira


A'lira has an interesting question to ask



-- On Pern --
It is 5:10 PM where you are.
It is sunset of the thirteenth day of the tenth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.
In Igen:
It is the seventy-third day of Autumn and 87 degrees. The day dawns bright and clear. Everything is coated in sand, but no clouds linger on the horizon.
In Southern:
It is the seventy-third day of Spring and 94 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day with a gentle wind.
In Southern Mountains:
It is the seventy-third day of Spring and 21 degrees. It's really damn cold out.


A'lira's Weyr

OOC Date 01 Jan 2018 07:00


Igraine2.jpg a-lira_default.jpg

“Kitten…” he hesitates. And then he decides to just ask in his usual forthright manner: “… would it make you unhappy to share this weyr as my mate?”


A'lira's Weyr, The Stillroom

A large, partitioned felliswood table holds sway against the wall beneath a carved stone stairway, dominated the tools of a Healer's trade, medicines in their proper containers and held by a sectioned tray sunken into the thick top; scrolls litter the writing surface in neat little piles, and a large chair is snugged up against it. The air here is very, very dry, and purposefully dim to preserve the staye of drying herbal medicines, keeping them cool in this subterranian cave, its walls dark ash gray, a faint gloss of silver covering the walls. There's a large stone ledge that curves along one wall, decorated with bright, gaudy pillows, and the opposite wall is covered in shelves set into small pocket-sized alcoves.

Timor: moon1.jpg
Belior: moon5.jpg

Sunset equals freedom, and has seen A'lira bolt for home like a slung shot, free of any duties that might require him to actually pretend he gives a crap about anything. The stillroom's his favorite place for all it's mostly empty for the time being; he's settled himself into arranging the few things he has stashed away, making absolutely sure there's room and more for his lover to stash away things of her own there to her liking. Absently, he slips a hand into his pocket, fiddling with the small bit of jewelry he's been keeping there for, oh, months, now; to ask or not to ask and how? He frowns slightly then grins a little as the gentle touch of his dragon's mind on his settles it once and for all in his usual dry manner.

Sunset does indeed equal freedom, for more than just day shift riders. Igraine is also freed from duty, her healer's yurt for once empty of patients. She's been waiting for sevens now to move her things into the stillroom at A'lira's weyr. There are just some herbs that should be kept under lock and key, and, it gives her an excuse to see her lover. So, finished with her packing, she slings her rucksack over heer back and lifts the two baskets of herb cases she's packed and heads for A'lira's weyr. Her walk through the bazaar and bowl is pleasant enough. And as she reaches Kyprioth's 'ledge', she sets down her baskets to love on Kyprioth a bit.

Kyprioth is all too pleased to accept that loving crooning softly and lowering his head to get the most out of those scratches. His lids droop, one by one, and relaxation takes over; were he a dog, he'd likely be a noodle at this point. Soon enough, A'lira appears, grinning at the dragon's rather undignified solicitation of Igraine's attentions. "I think you mostly come here for him." He teases Igraine, closing in to drop a gentle kiss to the top of her head. His dragon merely un-lids one eye, then lets it droop back shut. "You're ridiculous, Kyp." The dragon ignores him, naturally, except for the brief flick of his tail in a faintly dismissive manner. "And disrespectful." A faint snort is his only response. A'lira laughs softly. "See what I have to put up with?"

Igraine giggles and looks over her shoulder at A'lira when he approaches. "No, but his presence certainly doesn't hurt." She winks and nearly laughs at Kyprioth's responses to his rider, his tone is evident even to those who can't hear him telepathically. "Oh, and it's so terrible for you?" She teases, finally leaving Kyprioth to his own devices. "I've come to move it all in…." She waves at the baskets of her boxes and packets. There's more in her rucksack. "Ready for me?" She winks, teasing here too. It's not a complete move in, but generally, where Igraine's herbs are, she can be found nearby.

"As always." Kyprioth reluctantly moves his head with one of those heavy, heavy sighs: reproachful, even. A'lira merely snickers. "Quit tryna steal my girl." No jealosy tho, amirite? After an affectionate scratch of the presented eyeridge — toll fee, and all that — the dragon curls right up to enjoy his evening, leaving A'lira to pick up the baskets and turn inward into the small warren he now calls home. "Think you'll like it; plenty of room for you in there." With whatever she'd like to have in there with her.

Igraine follows A'lira into the weyr, chuckling slightly at his remark to his dragon. "I look forward to seeing it again. Whoever carved out this weyr did a good job of it." Igraine has no problems letting herself in or getting drinks while A'lira moves into the stillroom. She follows on his heels, inhaling deeply when the rich scent of the room washes over her. She could die happy in this room. Really.

Settling the baskets on the table, A'lira turns to pull Igraine tight against him, resting his cheek for a moment against her hair. Just because, apparently — nothing like a good snuggle to properly welcome his lady, right? Right! Slowly, he lets her go, and grins crookedly. "Mm. Yeah, they did. Must have meant it for some ranker or other. I got lucky." He can live with a few 'ghosts' to have the space not to worry about feeling closed in. He wanders into the center of the room before turning to look at Igraine, enjoying the way she moves. "You're beautiful, kitten."

Igraine smiles as she's wrapped up in A'lira's arms, it's her favorite place to be. And there's never anything wrong with a proper snuggle. She nods in agreement when he comments on his luck, he really had struck gold with this weyr. She's unpacking some herb pouches when A'lira makes his observation of her looks and she smiles at him, eyes alight with happiness as a slight pink tinge crosses the bridge of her nose. "And you are handsome and dark as the night and wild as a feline, my rider." Always so full of flatteries and pillow talk, her brownrider, but she doesn't mind. It's an endearing trait she hopes he never loses.

It's unlikely; he's essentially a gentle man, easygoing and even-tempered. A fit of ill-temper is a rare thing for him. “I love it when you blush.” His grin is pure mischief, now, as he watches her preparing to store things in his weyr. Soon, she'll be here most of the time, a new experience for him; he'd gotten used to living alone but for his dragon. “Kitten…” he hesitates. And then he decides to just ask in his usual forthright manner: “… would it make you unhappy to share this weyr as my mate?”

Igraine returns A’lira’s mischievous grin with a sweet one of her own before she goes back to unpacking, a happy smile on her lips. The brownrider’s question however, catches Igraine off guard and she turns to look at him, the surprise evident in her features, though she doesn’t seem to be reacting negatively, despite the fact that marriage and mating had never really been on Igraine’s personal bucket list. “I don’t think I’d be unhappy, no. Why?” Anticipation begins to curl in her belly, as she’s pretty sure he’s going to actually ask now, and part of her wonders why A’lira would think it would make her unhappy. They might as well be a mated couple, with the way they behave. “Would I have to give up my work?” This question is asked because she knows a few who mated riders and ended up giving up themselves, as well as their work.

“Well… I’ve been thinking…” A’lira draws it out, just a little. “I want you as my mate.” So much for suspense, there. And then he grins at her, quite unfazed by such a thing as her work. “Not unless you wanted to. I’ve long since accepted who you are and what you do.” He shrugs, crossing the weyr slowly to pull her gently against his chest, resting his cheek atop her head. “Can’t say I won’t get jealous sometimes, but… it wouldn’t be fair. You like it, right?” Idly, he strokes the length of her back, molding her against the length of him and enjoying the sweetness of her scent. “Besides, you’re all mine where it counts, kitten.”

Igraine smiles at A’lira with his first, a wide, happy smile, and his response to her work has a rush of affection blooming across her features. A’lira’s arms are a good place to be, so he’ll not find her objecting to his embrace in any way. She places a hand on his chest, fingers tracing an invisible pattern there. “Aye, I do like it, and besides, I’m in the healer’s yurt more than I’m on the escort roster.” His last has her chuckling. “Aye, that you do love, that you do.” Igraine sighs, happily mind, and just soaks in how happy she is with her life currently. SHe’s quiet in his arms while she does this, soaking in the feel of his embrace too. After beat, she lifts her head from A’l’s chest to look at him, eyes warm with happy light. Her lips quirk up in a mischievous smile and she continues tracing whorls on his chest. “So, was that a statement rider, or were you asking?” A light chuckle follows as her eyebrow quirks up in question.

“I’m askin’, lovely. WIll you be my mate?” It’s the oddest sensation, to be asking this woman such a question — and yet, it’s right. It’s so right. Slowly, A’lira traces her jaw with his finger, watching her expression with gentle warmth. “Because I love you. Because… well, we’re suited, I think. Because this place… it’s empty without you in it.”
Igraine nods even before she speaks, touched by A’lira’s words and happy to hear them. “Aye, I’ll be your mate.” She laughs softly, a bit giddy all of a sudden. “I love you too.” She stands on her toes to steal a kiss from A’lira, hands flattening on his chest in the process.

Oh, those words: he’d hoped to hear them for a very long time — and finally, here they are, in a room full of herbs perfuming the air, her hands on him, her lips finding his. “Faranth, I’d hoped you’d say yes.” He murmurs against her mouth, arms sliding around her waist to brace her against him, returning her kiss ardently. Her declaration of love has made him giddy, too. Finally, his weyr is home.

Igraine is dizzy by the time the kiss breaks, gasping slightly for air as she pulls back to smile brilliantly at A’lira, light as a feather and walking on cloud nine. “I couldn’t not say yes, I was so excited when you started asking. I want to be here with you, as long as we can maybe sometimes stay on the grounds?” Igraine will probably never truly get used to living in a cave. She’s too much trader for that.

Laughing softly, A’lira frames her face in his hands, rubbing his thumb gently over her lower lip. “Yes. Absolutely yes.” There are good memories there; of first times and wild times, and even the beginnings of friendships made. “It’d be odd if we didn’t, I think. Besides, you have your duties there, kitten.” There’s no desire to change the core of her — the woman he’s fallen in love with is the trader, the escort, the Healer — fiercely loyal to her people.

Igraine nods and hums satisfactorily. “Good.” She smiles and kisses him again, more briefly this time. “I think this calls for a drink.” She states, pulling at A’lira so that they can partake of the ones she brought in earlier. “We’ll have to do it with the Zingari, Willa would never forgive me if I didn’t.” She says of their commitment, there would be an uproar if she chose to have the ceremony anywhere else.

“Whatever you like,” A’lira laughs softly, allowing Igraine to tug him towards the drinks. He gets the feeling his life is going to take on an epic madness until Igraine is satisfied with her arrangement for their mating. Fortunately, he’s possessed of more patience these days than he had been before. Oh, what a difference the Turns have made in him. “You know, I’ve yet to meet Willa. Should I make a formal appeal to her? You know, for tradition’s sake, if that’s a thing for the Zingari…”

Igraine just might make for some epic madness, but honestly, most of that will probably come from those who help arrange the party. The Zingati are quite well known for the extravagant party or two. His comment on meeting Willa earns him a smile and a short chuckle. “I wouldn't say meeting Willimina would be a bad thing, but you need not ask her permission to mate me. If you were following Zingari tradition, you'd ride to the Kheeriin and ask my mother's permission to mate or marry me. But, I'm well past the age where my parents need to be concerned and I took a far different path when I became a you know slightly what for the Zingari and transferred to Igen. I am my own woman…” Igraine sips from her drink and moves to begin putting things away again, thankfully for the organization A'lira already has set in place, it makes it easier for her to place her own things, settling them in where they would go if A'lira had some of the same products.

“Huh.” A’lira takes that in — and is relieved that he doesn’t have to ride out to meet an entire new clan of family. However: “I’d be happy to meet Willimina, anyway. Javid was… interesting. I like him.” There’s a glint of amusement there for the way they’d met; he’d been caught red-handed leaving Igraine’s yurt. One might suspect Javid of just waiting for the chance. He takes a drink, then settles himself out of the way to let Igraine get her things settled in to her liking. “This is true, I would guess your mother wouldn’t need to vet me, at this point.” And oh, yes, he does know slightly what; he’s relieved to know she isn’t doing that anymore.

“I think you’d like Willa, she’s a force to be reckoned with, that one.” Igraine smiles at mention of Javid, a chuckle following. “Javid is good people.” She agrees, though she’s been teasing him quite a bit about the secret he’d kept. As for not having to be vetted through her mother, Igraine nods. “Precisely my love, you need only my yes, and you have it.” Igraine winks at A’lira and moves on to the second basket, the first being empty, pausing now and again to drink from her glass. “Is there anyone I should be meeting?” She asks all of a sudden, dark eyes flicking to A’lira in question.

There’s a smirk for her assessment of Willamina and Javid. “I imagine so — someone’s got to keep you crazy people in line.” Clearly, A’lira is on to the shenanigans. He settles more comfortably in his chair, utterly relaxed now. “Hmm… my mother, perhaps, would like to meet you, eventually. She’s been sorely disappointed that I… haven’t settled.” There’s a slightly uncomfortable shrug, then. “She wasn’t best pleased when Zavyr and I broke up.”

Igraine nods in understanding, the matriarchs in families are always the same, breed, raise them, and then make sure they mate and breed and continue the cycle. And if Weyr mama’s were anything like Zingari mamas and aunties, Igrain can imagine the disappointment his mother experienced when her son gave up what she thought was a good match. Igraine shudders. Family politics. What a mess. “And what would she think of you mating an Escort then?” At least Zavyr is a rider, Igraine would not be seen by many as fit for marriage or mating due to her occupation alone.

“Likely she’ll think I’ve lost my mind.” A’lira rubs a hand over his face. HIs mother’s — an interesting lady. The one woman in the world he’s unwilling to cross for any reason, and he’s got to explain the new lady in his life. A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth at Igraine’s shudder. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much — she’s old and cranky and will probably grill you relentlessly until she’s satisfied. She’ll remember I’m a grown man eventually. C’mere, kitten.” Now’s a good time for another cuddle, right? Right!

Igraine chuckles when A’lira mentions losing his mind. “Well maybe you have, a little.” She winks at him and takes a drink before tucking some more herbs away. She really had a lot to stow away. But some packets are premixed and ready for use. She really laughs when A’l mentions getting grilled. “I am not worried, I’ll answer almost any question she could ask. I’ve probably been through worse interrogations…” And Igraine’s likely right on that one. When beckoned she moves over to A’lira, wandering into his embrace with no compunctions whatsoever. Any time is a good time for a cuddle these days.

“She’s tricksy, that woman.” A’lira warns playfully, settling Igraine into his lap and resting his forehead against her shoulder, taking comfort in the closeness. As to his likely insanity, he’ll just chuckle his agreement, slipping his fingers over her arm in gentle motions. “Mmm… woman’s likely to try and get your entire life story out of you, one way or another. But yeah.. I think you can handle her.” He laughs softly, and kisses her shoulder lovingly. “You’ll either hate each other on sight or love each other, I dunno.”

Igraine melts into A'lira's embrace, chuckling at his comments about his mother. “I'm sure I'll do fine…” She comments, accentuating what comes out of A’lira’s lips. His last has her chuckling again. “Aye, I suppose you're right there.” She turns and gives him a real kiss, as opposed to just letting him get away with a peck to her shoulder. “I love you.” it's the first time she's ever said this out loud, first time she's ever felt comfortable saying such a thing out loud. But it's true enough and she has nothing to hold her back now.

It’s fortunate that she doesn’t — for those are the very words A’lira has been longing to hear for a very long time. He pulls her closer, kissing her forehead gently, then burying his face in her hair. “I love you, too, kitten.” His voice is hoarse, his arms tight around her. “I love you, too.”

Igraine knows A’lira’s been waiting, and the emotion in his voice tugs at the strings of her heart, a heart now open to all that it can have, love included. And at this point, she is content to just hold A’lira and bask in the moment. What a wondrous day, with a fantastic end. Igraine couldn’t be happier.

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