Who

A'lira

What

Drunk A'lira finally decides to cry it out to get over his ex.

None

When

Late night, sometime after Talk About Awkward

Where

Kyprioth's Weyr

OOC Date 02 Sep 2017 05:00

 

a-lira_default.jpg

I know soon you will be over the lies; you'll be strong, you'll be rich in love and you will carry on
But no - oh no; no you won't be mine



Elysium Fields (Kyprioth's Weyr)

The place is an ivory sea of tranquility, with large tapestries of water in all its forms contrast brightly, hung by some arcane knowledge not granted easily to the unwashed masses. Dominating this circular place, a couch looms, thronelike, its surface draped with a brilliant white hide, its surface embroidered in periwinkle and powder blues. A large, partitioned felliswood table holds sway in the center of the room, 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. There's a fireplace and a rather large nest of brilliantly colored pillows contained by weathered planks before it.


Late night, and he’s thoroughly foxed, and fortunately mounted on an able dragon whose steadiness can be trusted to see them safely home. He fumbles the straps off, stumbling into the weyr with Kyprioth close on his heels. That talk with K’mine had unsettled him more than he expected. what's wrong with me? That was… no. Not him. He's… he isn't interested in me.

Fuck, it wasn't right to ask that of someone whose heart and mind was with another. A’lira settles heavily at the desk, aware of his dragon's worry in the back of his mind. “Be ai’ight, Kyp.”

The merest whisper of disbelief is all the retort the dragon makes.

“Thanks.” The word’s laced with sarcasm.

Silence and and empty meadow, all innocence.

A’lira chuckles a little despite himself.

How well the brown knows his bondmate’s mind. A’lira broods on the woman he’d been trying to forget for weeks, now.

And with it, the guilt returns, tenfold.

He’s broken her heart and boy does he know it. She’s gone too often for him not to notice, much as he tries to forget her. He’s told himself every pretty lie, every convenient truth: it means nothing. A woman he thought he’d been in love with, whom he told he was in love with — but was he really? No. A healthy dose of pent-up lust, a craving for those hands all over him. The gratification of knowing he made a woman hot to have him… what kind of asshole was he? He was, indeed, the wrong man for her.

But still…

I miss you, lovely.

Not that he’d ever tell her that.

I love you, just not the way you need me to. I’m sorry.

He isn’t going to tell her that, either. It wouldn’t make her feel better. It’s only to salve his conscience that he’s considering writing this letter at all. Pff, fuck it. He’s said what he needed to, to her. Maybe more than he should have. That ferocious desire to be alone with these more primal lusts… it’s taken over him. Perhaps he’s lived in his head way too long — maybe… maybe it was a sign he needed to be in the land of the physical for awhile. The scraps of letter are eyed, consideringly. And then they’re tossed resolutely into the fire.

I have to let it go. I have to let her go. Ah, Faranth, I’m hungry. I need… I need to be touched. I’m so… so alone.

«NEVER.» A single word, imbued with the power of an ancient bonding. Kyprioth raises his head, stares at his rider with eyes slowly whirling with love and concern. «I am here. I will always be here.»

A’lira moves to comfort his dragon, his soul. “Don’t I just know it.” He wraps long brown arms around the dragon’s neck, resting his forehead against that warm brown hide. Warmth on his cheeks, wet and salty. Tears? For a moment, it confuses him, that he’d cry for a girl he’d broken up with.

《You loved her. For whatever it was worth.》Patient care is a soothing balm, brought by Kyprioth’s calm acceptance. 《Tonight, you grieve your loss. Tomorrow, the sun will warm you. And you will be well.》

A’lira can't help but smile a little at his dragon’s utter confidence in him. Well matched, in their steadiness. And it helps, to know he doesn't need to be strong, not tonight. He could just… let… go.

Decided, he curls up against his dragon, cuddled close against the beast’s chest, just letting the tears fall, until the gentle thrum vibrating against his body lulls him into sleep.

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