Who

K'vvan, Cha'el, Erissa

What

The epic turns dangerous as a fed-up Cha'el leaves K'vvan and Erissa alone.

When

It is late night of the seventh day of the third month of the first turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Sanctum Santorum (Cha'el's weyr), Igen Weyr

OOC Date

 

kvvan4.jpg Chael3.png erissa14.jpg
nadeeth_default.jpg Sikorth.jpg ice1.jpg




Characters


Weyr.jpg

Room

Sanctum Santorum

Because I'm lazy. This is Cha'el's weyr. Go check it out:
http://harpers-tale.wdfiles.com/local--resized-images/character:cha-el/Weyr.jpg/medium.jpg

On the ledge, you see a brown, blue and green dragon.

On the perch is Butterball.

Obvious exits:
Ledge


Log

Erissa actually sputters a few times as Cha’el brings the full-blown irate parent vibe to the mix, a flush returning to darken lightly tanned features.

“But he…! I didn’t….” She never gets more than a few words out before the frustrated brownrider is stalking out and leaving her alone with the greenrider. Slamming her back into the chair she crosses her arms again and growls, “The NERVE of him!!”

On the ledge, Danorath stirs slightly as biting emotions are flung from his rider’s mind, drawing his attention a bit from the story being spun by Nadeeth. «Do you want to leave?» he offers, willing despite his own preference to stay. When Erissa’s pride kicks a quick ‘no’ back in response the blue huffs once and turns his focus back to the story being so cleverly weaved. As the green’s shutter moves along he picks up the gist of the story - what he had missed and what is added - and a whiff of hearty agreement with Sikorth’s comment blows across the connection.


K'vvan watches the weyrsecond storm out of the room, his hands upon the wine glass tightening. Erissa's sudden outburst. “You're the one with the sharding nerve. This is his weyr and we are f*king acting like children.” Sudden maturity from K'vvan is burst by his next words, “Why did you have to show up now?”

Nadeeth, thankfully, has allowed herself to be completely drawn into her storytelling, leaving K'vvan with his rumpled thoughts. Upon her tapestry the creature runs, darting down the hill. Enraged behind him stream the ghostly beings, nipping at his tail as they chase him and the fire. No matter how fast the creature runs, a ghostly being remains right behind.


Erissa’s chin jerks up as K’vvan snaps at her, stormy blue hues widening for the fact that he actually spoke to her at all. Wonders never cease!! Of course, that his first words are an insult is no surprise, nor is the knee-jerk reaction of instant anger that erupts in the bluerider.

“Speak for yourself!” she throws back, maturity levels not even a consideration in the cocktail of erratic emotions that she’s sifting. “Why now??” she echoes, incredulity raising both tone and pale brows. “Why NOT now? I have an open invitation to come whenever I want. What are YOU doing here?”

Danorath grows a little more concerned when Cha’el leaves and subtly braces to try and influence his bonded. It isn’t typical and she gets annoyed when he does it but he’s learned from experience that if she blows her temper and he doesn’t do it then Bad Things happen. The tempo of Nadeeth’s story encourages the feeling with empathy going out for the little creature being chased. Brisk winds underscore his mindtouch. Run little creature! Run!


“Cha'el invited me.” Well, more like Nadeeth tricked him, but K'vvan is angry enough to not let that little detail climb into the conversation. “I didn't randomly show up on his ledge and flip out when someone else was already there.” K'vvan yanks back on his temper, forcing himself to take a deep breath against his rolling temper. It probably was a good thing that there was a table between them.


It IS a good thing that Erissa hadn’t picked up that mug of wine. Otherwise K’vvan would be wearing it about now. As it is she sits up and drops her crossed leg to the floor with a thunk of booted heal to rock.

“I did not flip out just because someone was here. I came in and found you two doing…. “ Both hands rise in sharp gesture, flinging in opposite directions. “….doing whatever it was you were doing and that it was flamin’ YOU was the problem!”


A sudden flush streaks its way up K'vvan's face. He hadn't realized that Erissa has seen how closely… but no. He yanks his mind away from thoughts of Cha'el being so close. “We weren't doing anything! Cha'el already said, I spilled the damn wine after he asked me a question I didn't want to answer. It got everywhere and I was cleaning up. You” K'vvan slams his own now-empty wine glass down on the table, “were the one that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and freaked him out.”


Dark blue eyes roll as K’vvan repeats the same excuse that Cha’el gave, her expression dripping with dismissive disbelief.

“I did NOT freak him out!” Erissa huffs sharply. “He asked me to stay. He loves me.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth the bluerider sucks in a sharp breath, wishing she could take them back. She never meant to spill so much in front of her scrawny nemesis but the bastard just has a way of completely screwing with her emotional self-control. Bracing herself for the expected sneering response she sets her jaw and stiffens, lean muscle tensing from head to toe.


Erissa’s bold declaration actually manages to draw silene from K’vvan for long seconds. “You’re f*king deluded. There’s no such thing as love. Not between people.” His voice actually manages to sound perfectly even. “He’s just trying to be the perfect weyrsecond and attempting to solve everyone’s problems just like W’rin does. Except where W’rin’ll slap you across the back of the head…” K’vvan doesn’t finish with what Cha’el would do to help those who are all broken inside. Maybe because he’s still figuring it out… or because he doesn’t want Erissa to know. Either way his words trail off as he scowls downwards at the table. “Love is a sharding lie they tell non-riders to make them happy in their own lives.”


The wind is blown out of Erissa’s sails as K’vvan doesn’t attack her nearly as badly as she’d expected. Pique fires with his first words but then what comes after that leaves her as much baffled as angry. She couldn’t agree more on the topic of Cha’el’s perfection, but the rest is simply too negative an outlook.

“That’s not true!” she insists. “Love is… is everything!” So says the woman who has made being oblivious to the presence or lack of love an art form. “If that’s how you feel it’s no wonder you’re such a cranky ass all the time.”


“How has “love,”” K’vvan actually makes it sound like a swear word s he spits it out, “ever done anyone a sharding ounce of good? You f*king think he loves you, and he’s here with me.” K’vvan inadvertently allows a hint of the truth to slip out about the real relationship between himself and the weyrsecond. “He just cares about people.” K’vvan shoves away from the table, and puts his back to the blue rider. “Love is a lie.”


K’vvan should know how good the acoustics are from weyr to ledge and with Cha’el leaned up against the rock where the short tunnel spills out onto the flat shelf where their dragons are congregated, there’s very little of the dialogue between the two that he misses. At the turn of conversation to the topic of love, assumptions made by one and the sentiment itself dismissed by the other, the brownrider chugs back a more than healthy swallow of wine. Belatedly, he realizes that despite the difference of opinion, the two of them, are actually talking. And that draws a faint smile into being. Rather than take himself back inside, despite having calmed down, the brownrider decides to linger at the entrance with the (probably vain) hope of Erissa and K’vvan somehow managing to find a common ground if left alone to do so.

Sikorth of course, is wrapped in Nadeeth’s story telling,a rumble of encouragement joining Danorath’s silent urging for the creature to run like the wind.


The creature runs, woven by Nadeeth’s ribbons. Every trick the trickster knows is used to lose the firebeings. Boulders are dodged behind. Leaves scattered, but every time it seems as if the furred creature has lost the ghostly apparitions they appear again. Strangely though, they never reach out and actually touch or attempt to remove the fire from the creature's mouth. Emboldened by their lack of aggression beyond following he slows, allowing them to gather around him once again. «They beg him to return the fire. Without it, they are nothing.» Nadeeth’s soft touch vibrates the weaving, bringing out delicate hues as the beings twist themselves around the creature. «He knows better though, that fire is not taken, it is shared.» Starting forward, confident that the creatures will not harm him now, the creature moves forward to the humans, boldly walking into the middle of their frozen camp to lay the smoldering embers at their feet. «He will teach them to use it.» Across the frozen landscape dots of fire begin to emerge, and the frozen wasteland is pushed back. The firebeings, realizing that humans with fire are not oppressing, but instead creating more, slowly are drawn to the pockets of fire, their dance resuming… but this time tangled with the humans.


“You really are one screwed up bastard,” Erissa growls, internal guards scrambling to smother the sting of his words. Biting down hard she takes a deep breath, words flung at the other rider’s back. “We’re riders. Love and sex are two different things. YOU should know that better than most, greenrider.” Anger gives her focus, the topic of love being one in which she has one foot solidly in illusion and the other on too much broken heartache to provide any useful support. Which technically should make her agree with the greenrider but, again, it’s K’vvan, which makes her automatically go in the opposite direction and grasp at the rosy ease of illusions rather than reality. Unfortunately that same anger blinds her to the fact that their raised voices carry so easily over rock and stone.

On the ledge, Danorath is swept up in the story being weaved by the clever imagery of the lovely green, ocean winds strengthening and whipping winds of hearty approval for the brave little creature and the fine results of his efforts. Efficient. Motivated. Resourceful. All good qualities for a wingmate in the blue’s opinion.


From his acoustical vantage point, Cha’el cringes internally at Erissa’s snapped retort, bracing for the backlash sure to come from K’vvan. Draining the last of his wine and with a glance sweeping over the trio of dragons so clearly enthralled in something or another, the brownrider pushes away from the wall. Time to go back in and face the music.

Concentration narrowed to every stitch and thread that Nadeeth weaves with her story, Sikorth sits back satisfied with the outcome, the solid monolith’s of his mind-space contemplating the various angles of it all and applying it in situational theory to life as he understands it. With a muted thwump-thwump his mind swoops in against those of the blue and green, calculated cunning singing through the pitched whine of motors. « What ours need, is to be without fire. »


Erissa’s snapped comment brings K’vvan whirling around and his fist pounding down on the table hard enough to shake the whole of it. Temper well and truly lost at this point K’vvan doesn’t even feel the sting on his fist that surely is going to be there tomorrow as a consequence of hitting hard objects. “At least I don’t f*king have some illusion that he cares for me beyond the f*kin bed,” he snaps as the sound of the thud echos through the weyr itself. Too red is his anger at this moment to parse the damage his hasty and self-destructive words might cause to the emotionally sensitive brownrider. “I live in f*king realty and get he’s into someone else.” There are a whole lot of assumptions that drive into that statement, many of which probably aren’t true at all. But K’vvan’s anger is lit and until something snaps him out of it, it is going to eat at everything good he has and leave nothing behind.

The mental appreciation for her craft is taken in good form, Nadeeth’s ribbons curling around it and twining it back deep in her heart to save for a rainy day. Sikorth’s comment is met with slight resistance, «Fire is power… we wish them to be powerless?» K’vvan’s mental state is finally pressing upon the green, and she turns an eye to look within. «We should go…»


The merest flicker of pale lashes is all the reaction K’vvan’s violent outburst gets from Erissa. Jaw set tight enough to crack, smoking blue hues lock onto the greenrider and stay there. His return jab blazes like fire over her emotions, sizzling and burning till what’s left is nothing but raw soul. Getting up she faces off with him across the table, breathing shallow and cheeks lit with a deep flush. Her hand darts upward in a flash, open palm connecting with K’vvan’s jaw with a crack that echoes off the walls.

“You know nothing about my relationship with Cha’el,” she grinds out, eyes brighter than normal as they blaze at the greenrider. “I helped him heal when he was broken. YOU…..” Full lips part as if to say more but tremble as her throat closes, choking off the words, and her jaw snaps shut.

Danorath will not leave his bonded powerless - ever. But curiosity is tweaked at the hint of something stewing behind the big browns thumping tone. Just as the open connection he shares with the other two dragons swings in Sikorth’s direction a flash of heat turns casual salty winds into a inferno-filled tempest. The touch is gone before it can fully form in the direction of the other two, cut off by the blue’s quick response. Smothering deep sea calm, cool and muting is pressed back through his connection to Erissa. Externally his eyes brighten, facets catching the slightest light and spinning it into a mini-beacon. His stocky frame shifts, solid muscle rippling beneath the fold of cobalt wings.


Cha’el’s timing is just BRILLIANT!! Or not, depending on which side of the arena you’re sitting on because just as he returns, Erissa’s palm goes cracking across K’vvan’s face. “ERISSA!” He thunders, closing the distance in a few short strides. “Stop it!! Both of you. Just fucking stop it!” Anger, frustration and despair for the two riders ever getting on with each other, burn in blue eyes that flick like an angered feline’s lashing tail between the pair of them. “Both of you, sit! And don’t move until I say so.”

Out on the ledge, Sikorth stiffens as a wave of pained disbelief rolls in from his rider. Things just got real.


“You f*king b*tch!” K'vvan grinds out between teeth that are clenched. “I don't f*king,” but his tirade is interrupted by Cha'el suddenly yelling out Erissa's name. His tone is enough like a particular weyrleader's to actually break through the red that has flowered into K'vvan's mind. Those balls fists of his want to punch the bluerider, but instead he shoves himself off and away from the table. Rather than sit though, as he's been ordered, K'vvan takes himself to a nearby wall and uses one of those fits of his to slam it onto the hard stone.

Nadeeth has rises, the relaxed coil of her body gone as K'vvan's emotions flair up. «We should go!» Seriously.


Erissa’s blond head snaps to the side as Cha’el bellows her name, pretty features locked into an expression that defies definition for the bared variety of emotions writ plainly across it. With her palm still stinging from the slap she stiffens from head to toe, defiance at the reprimand that follows pulsing from her demeanor. As K’vvan responds by walking away and trying to demolish a nearby wall the bluerider snorts once, mumbling under her breath.

“Real smart.”

The irony is that she’d do the same if he hadn’t first. But seeing his response coupled with the soothing influence of Danorath she sways in the opposite direction and channels the anger inside instead. Ever so slowly she steps back and folds into her chair with deliberate care, her earlier pose of one leg crossed and foot tapping resumed….. though the bob of elegant calf and black boot are at a notably quicker pace. The fall of uneven locks hides her profile in a white-blond veil as she turns her head to the side and tucks her chin slightly, only the firm set of her jaw and tight line of expressive lips visible.

Outside, Danorath whuffles once toward Sikorth questioningly and lifts his wings enough to brush Nadeeth’s. «They need to get it all out. Give it a little longer.»


(CONTINUED…..)

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