K'vvan, Erissa


Tea induces a full 180 turn in emotions for the riders who can't stand the sight of each other. Mature Content


It is before evening of the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth month of the first turn of the 12th pass. It is the twenty-fifth day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a bright, sunny day.


Danorath's Den, Igen Weyr

OOC Date


nadeeth_default.jpg kvv10.jpg erissa11.jpg ice1.jpg


Danorath's Den

This average-sized, smooth rock-hewn weyr is saved from monotony by the whims of it's occupants. A varied collection of second-hand furniture and decor make the space livable, even homey in a vagabond sort of way. No particular theme nor color dominates but instead a mis-matched collection of serviceable items that caught the eye or interest of rider or dragon gives the space a chaotic sort of charm.

A single CHAIR, two-seat LOUNGE, and low TABLE form an inviting niche to sit a spell, while a double-wide BED without a frame, a WARDROBE, and small CHEST delineate the bedroom. She even managed to find a RUG or two to soften the stoney floor.



Drills are an affair K'vvan rarely looks forward to. After three months of hard flying with the elite wing the mistakes the green pair are making have been reduced to few, and neither W'rin nor Cha'el find much objection in their flying. The dozens of small injuries which had plagued them have decreased as they have changed their style to fit the rigid structure of Whirlwind. Nearly perfectly silence has been another hallmark of their change. Where both rider and dragon had been outspoken with the chromatic wing, among the larger dragons that voice of silk is drown out, and only those few such as Sikorth and Danorath are reached out to. The heavy fall had only enlarged the isolation of the pair, as guilt wraps around K'vvan. if only he had BEEN there…. Maybe their casualties would have been less. Trek's subsequent dismissal from leadership had only thickened the ice around his heart, as hope of ever going home had dwindled.

Which is why, when an abrupt turn to avoid just that same blue causes Nadeeth's voice to tremble with pain does the carefully fought for control begin to fray. K'vvan fights for control. Throughout the rest of the drill he clenches his teeth against angry words. When time does not bring soothing to that over stretched wing, and Nadeeth refuses to tell Valiuth she is injured the anger only grows.

Drills end. Landing, K'vvan first takes care of that wing… Then snaps. Cold fury wraps around his heart, a testament to its own sickness, and a build up of all the buried emotions. One goal sharpens his attention- Find that fucking Erissa.

Erissa couldn’t decide which was worse, feeling like she’d been trampled by a herd of stampeding wherries or the gut-wrenching nausea that came from a sickened soul.

Every minute spent with her wingmates was pure torture, lashing her guilty conscience with the violent sting of an emotion-shredding whip. What had been the epitome of her life as a rider, the one thing that she and Danorath reveled in together with boundless joy and pride had become a constant reminder of her betrayal. And the worst part was that she couldn’t tell her beloved blue why she was shutting him out. The result was that the natural skills they normally took such pride in were suffering and beginning to affect others. It was a recipe for disaster but the anguished woman could see no way out.

At least she could do something about the physical aches and pains. The special ‘tea’ that Goran had given her alleviated the symptoms of the drug the trader had gotten her hooked on. Knowing that the same drink also caused the issues didn’t matter anymore. Once she’d finally learned the truth it was too late. She was too addicted to resist when the worse of the symptoms left her curled in a tight knot of writhing pain and uncontrollable shaking. She’d tried. She’d refused to drink it. By the time she was forced to give in she was so messed up that she’d had to report being ill for duty the next day, which only flung her deeper into a black chasm of despair.

So, as yet another bleak day of drills ended she could only thank her lucky stars that she didn’t have a sweep to fly as well. She’d pushed herself too far today. Sometimes stubborn anger got the best of her and faced with her seemingly inescapable situation she had set a punishing pace that her beleaguered mind and body couldn’t handle, making her bond with Danorath waver. The coordination that normally marked their flying as exceptional wasn’t even close to Whirlwind standards. She knew they’d already caught Cha’el’s eye and any day now the Weyrsecond was going to seriously nail her for it. Just the mere thought of the look on the brownrider’s face if he ever learned what she’d done was enough to make her nearly drop the mug in which she was brewing some of the tea as a wave of stomach-twisting angst made her double over. Hands trembling as she drops the hated tea bag into the hot water she turns away and leans back against the counter, pressing palms to her closed eyes.

Morbid speculation leaps to the fore with a pointed observation.

This has got to be what shit feels like.

«Don't, I am fine.» Nadeeth's voice is a soft touch in the back of K'vvan's mind, and just barely strong enough to pull him back from the edge of his snapped temper for just a second. Teeth grinding, jaw clenched, fists curled, K'vvan takes that moment to try to calm. It doesn't exactly work, but when he finally directs Nadeeth to land on Dano's ledge he is at least willing to consider leaving the knife behind.

Down he vaults from her neck, and ignoring the blue stomps uninvited into the which's living space. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His voice is a low snarl as he comes to a stop only feet away. There is murder in his eyes, but it is checked … For now.

Danorath immediately moves over on the small ledge as soon as he recognizes Nadeeth, more than happy to make room for his favorite green. The close quarters make for a bit of cramped lodging but from his point of view that’s a convenient excuse to be close to the lovely female. Salt-tinted winds, strong and clear, reach out for the curling lengths of silken ribbons that usually convey her mental touch.

Always on guard, however, Danorath isn’t too distracted by Nadeeth that he doesn’t notice K’vvan’s headlong progress. Pre-existing concern for his rider smudges the horizon of the blue’s mental scape and so he lets the man pass even though he knows how Erissa feels about the greenrider. To be on the safe side he does send a quick note of warning.

Inside the weyr, Erissa immediately stiffens and lets her arms drop with a slap to thighs. “Great. Just sharding great,” she snaps in an irritable mumble. “Useless doorstop of a blue!”

Purposely turning her back to K’vvan’s arrival she faces the counter, lifts the string on her tea bag, and slowly bobs it up and down in the water. When the greenrider arrives a moment later with a less than friendly greeting she presses her eyes shut against the pounding ricochet of his loud voice in her skull and takes a few deep breaths to clear the ringing in her ears.

Bracing her palms on the edge of the counter she replies in a low voice as tight and thick as steel, her nerves sitting on a knife’s edge of control as she keeps her back to the other rider.

“Get your sharding ass out of my weyr, K’vvan.”

K'vvan's forward progress isn't stalled at all by Erissa's anger. instead he comes right behind the woman, and stopping a foot behind her scowls at the back of her blond hair. "Not till you Fucking explain what in Faranath's tits you think you are doing out there. Nadeeth doesn't fucking need help getting injured."

Nadeeth's threads do not reach out to the blue. Instead she crouches low on the ledge, peering inwards at the confrontation she cannot forestall. The edge of her thought still holds some of the pain from her injured wing, and she tries to keep it from the blue.

Assuming K’vvan is speaking metaphorically about Nadeeth getting hurt Erissa instead lets her temper snap on his choice of words. Turning her head just enough to bring him into the edge of peripheral vision she still refuses to face him. Slender frame as rigid as stone, it takes every ounce of willpower to keep her stance straight and not betray the penetrating ache that coils through her muscles, tightening it’s grip with every passing moment.

“First of all,” she grinds through clenched teeth. “Faranth didn’t have tits, she was a dragon. So if you’re going to disgrace the mother of our lifemates’ race at least get your facts straight. And secondly, unless you want to nose dive into a face-plant in the Bazaar I suggest you leave before I throw you off the ledge!”

Outside, Danorath rumbles softly, his faceted eyes awhirl with deep hues of concern and brighter flashes of growing alarm. He edges his stocky frame closer to Nadeeth, uncertain but wanting contact with the obviously distressed green. Mentally, his winds thicken and soften into ocean-fed zephyrs edged with the cool calm of deep sea fathoms. Glimpses slip through of the agitation growing on the horizon, though, too strong for him to completely hide as part of his attention remains on those inside the weyr.

«Nadeeeeeeeth» Her name is spoken in a warm, welcoming breath of wind. «<What is wrong, lovely one? Why do your ribbons not fly?»

"F*ck details." K'vvan spits out, actual mosture leaving his lips. Those fists are curled at his sides now, and he's counting backwards in his head. Temper control isn't his strongest suit, and without a bag to punch in front of him it is even harder. "I'm not f*king leaving till you explain where the hell your head is. You're a better f*king flier then that sh*t. Nadeeth is pretending that her wing isn't f*king hurt because she thinks the bigger dragons will look down on her for it." Nails dig deeply into his hands as he tries to reign in his temper. "What the f*ck is going on?!"

Nadeeth shifts away from Danorath, a move even more a typical for the sweet green. K'vvan's words bring a low murr of protest, that her secret has been revealed. There is little chance the blue missed it, «Hurt.» A single ribbon, which twines around a picture of her wing. «Don't want numbed.»

Erissa whirls at that and immediately recoils at how close K’vvan is, her lean frame pressing back against the counter. Without consciously noting the angry details of his stance she automatically reacts to the vibe he’s giving off in spades and her knuckles turn white as they grip the edge of the counter.

“I don’t have to explain anything to YOU,” she snaps, then, belatedly lips part on a quick intake of breath concerning Nadeeth. “What are you saying?” she asks with slow precision, dark blue hues narrowing on the greenrider.

Danorath catches it alright, and after the smaller green’s brief admission he rears up and stretches his neck to the sky for an emphatic roar. The echoes of it still spill along the wall of the weyr as he lowers himself again drawing close to Nadeeth. She can only move so far on the small ledge. «Do not be foolish!» The reprimand is coached in whirling currents of deep azure, thick with caring support, and stern winds of concern. «You must get healed if you are hurt. How will we soar and twist in the clouds if you do not?»

"I'm saying your head wasn't f*king in drills this morning and that Nadeeth had to work extra to f*king keep herself safe from YOU." Because clearly, this cannot be at all Danorath's fault. K'vvan advances arnother half step, staring the woman down. This confrontation is very unlike the last between the pair. Without his long hair, those green eyes of his are piercing, and they hold bundles of accusation within them.

Nadeeth slinks backwards from Danorath, his roar exactly the reaction she had been expecting. If Dragons could cry she might be, but instead she simply curls herself as well as she can with the soreness of her wing. Ribbons are tightly rolled within and kept from the blue, taking his anger and holding it deep within.

“I’m not a danger to anyone!” Erissa shouts overly loud, compensating for more than what he actually said. The snap and twist of guilt’s harsh lashes flay her nerves and tighten already wretched muscles. Pretty features warped by a pained expression Erissa is suddenly awash in a claustrophobic reaction to his closeness and both palms dart forward in a hard shove against his chest. Words fall from her tongue before she can filter them, the devastating combination of physical and mental anguish over-riding common sense.

“BACK OFF! It’s not our fault if you and your green can’t keep up. Maybe you aren’t up to Whirlwind standards anymore since you’ve been gone.”

Danorath isn't dissuaded by Nadeeth's withdrawal, his fondness for the lively green superseding any hesitation. «Do not hide from me, sweet Nadeeth. Let me help you. You must get better. For you. For Him.» Guessing that she might put more weight on caring for her rider than herself the blue makes an attempt to get through to her, winds and shifting seas gently plying the edges of those coiled ribbons.

The ice that has curled over K'vvan's heart the last three months only solidifies when Erissa speaks aloud the words which he is already more then aware of. The heat in his voice is lessened by a great deal when he finally answers. "I know. But you're f*king whirlwind. We shouldn't have fo fight our own to try to get up to scratch."

Nadeeth is curled tightly into her ball, and doesn't want to let the blue in. But his words do strike true, so finally she allows a single thread to the blue. «I want to go home.» That single thread somehow coils into a complex images- the dragons of Arroyo.

When he doesn't move back as ordered Erissa steps forward trying to intimidate him instead, stopping so close she can practically see her reflection in the heated flame of those angry green hues. The change in his appearance isn't missed, if anything only making her angrier for the stronger cast it gives his demeanor.

"The only one fighting here is YOU. You came roaring in here ready to rip my head off. If you have a problem with me then just say so, K'vvan!" Sparks limn the gray shadows in dark blue hues, the darker cast beneath her eyes and thinned features more prominent seen close-up. A wild sort of desperation coats her aura, a need to release so much pent up emotion. Goading her nemesis into saying what he is no doubt dying to say anyway seems like a good place to start.

Gentle. Easy. Danorath's touch coaxes reluctant ribbons, focusing on the small opening she gives him and he holds the contact not willing to let her retreat again. Arial images of the weyr with dragons everywhere - pens, lake, ledges - sift past. Igen Weyr. As a whole. Without distinction of rank or wing. The words that follow are strong as the swelling sea and just as deep as those cerulean fathoms.«You ARE home.»

"Because I f*king want to do this s*it right." K'vvan is so close to snapping. But he's keepin it in, just barely by the edge of his fingernails. "Have you f*king given up? What the f*ck has happened that has made you not f*king care? You're f*king Whirlwind. " K'vvan ends his words with a hiss which he abruptly bites off.

Nadeeth watches those pictures. Reaching out her ribbons curl around singular dragons and pull them backwards, rearranging till rank and wing do show themselves. «He does well here. I do not. You do well. I do not.»

Erissa throws both arms into the air in a helpless gesture.

"So how does ripping my head off and blaming me make this shit right for you??" she demands. Raising her voice and letting anger rule her tongue is the only thing that keeps his words from breaking her completely.

If he only knew.

Actually, he might be glad, she surmises on a twist of morbid irony. It would finally give him what he needed to label her the Being of Evil Incarnate he so obviously saw her as himself.

But no. As much as it hurts to keep inside she won't give him the satisfaction. Whirling around to face the counter she braces her arms on the edge and drops her chin slightly, letting the fall of uneven layers form a veil around her face. Slowly her eyes focus on something on the counter. A mug. The tea. YES! That's what she needs to take the sting out of how she's feeling. Reaching for it she lifts it reverently and takes a cautious drink. Finding it cooled enough she takes another, much longer swallow.

Danorath can't help but rumble deep in his chest, disagreement with what she proposes welling up like an incoming wave. «You do too!» he insists, the strength of his conviction carrying over to a physical reaction. Sidling up right beside her he stretches out a wing to brush over her back. «So many care about you. How can you think otherwise?»

If there was a mirror, perhaps K'vvan might recognize himself in Erissa's eyes. The feeling of being utterly defeated- like he is fighting something bigger then himself then can actually be seen. Somewhere in her words K'vvan actually manages to finally pull in his temper, and his voice is much cooler now. It is ice which coats them now, the fire having burned itself out. "Because Whirlwind is suppose to f*king care about Whirlwind. And If I'm going to lose everything to be there, then I f*king want that." A hint of bitterness finally manges to curl in and K'vvan stares at teh floor below them. "Are you f*king whirlwind or not?"

Nadeeth curls under that wing, craving the physical touch she has not been getting from any but Kehemath. Under that wing she'll finally relax, just a touch, though unhappines still curls down her ribbons. «We work hard. It is better. But we fear.» Her threads turn silvery, like the enemy they face within the air. «And he hurts. Does yours hurt?» A sudden question which reaches out of the blue, shifting those threads to perhaps center that it is not just K'vvan.

Erissa lowers the mug just enough to snort a loud huff of breath through her nose. Slightly put off by his changed and intense appearance she remains turned away, preferring to throw words over her shoulder.

“Of course I am!” she snaps. “Though if THIS is what you call caring for another Whirlwind I’d hate to see what you do to anyone you REALLY care about!” Though still laced with plenty of heat, her tone is slightly distracted, her stance slowly growing less tense. Letting her eyes shut she rolls her neck in a light stretch, the effects of the drugged tea filtering quickly through her system. It doesn’t do anything for her rougher appearance but the threat of violence is sapped from her demeanor as surely as if someone flipped a switch.

Danorath is quick to take advantage of Nadeeth’s capitulation. His wing curls at the tip to tuck the smaller green beneath the cobalt stretch of spar and hide. Winds rise automatically at the mere hint of their ancient enemy and batter at the edges of the calmer core he keeps in the fore. «She does.» He replies of his rider. «But it is not because of thread.»

“Do you f*king need coddling? Or a swift kick in the butt because you’re too oblivious to realize when you’re not holding formation?” K’vvan’s words are stinging, but he’s not on the verge of yelling now. No, he’s watching her. Waiting for her own yelled response to come, almost like he’s itching for a chance to fight.

«Is it a heart hurt?» Nadeeth tucks herself under that wing. IT is not the span of the other she seeks for comfort at times, and she fears that one is closed off to her for a while. «Mine hurts in the heart.»

Turning around sharply she fixes the greenrider with an icy blue stare, the mug tucked securely in one hand. “Get off my case, K’vvan! You lose your knot and get kicked out of your wing and you think you have the right to come in here and rip MY head off?? You can kiss my ass!”

Stepping forward she purposely knocks her shoulder into his as she passes, continuing on to the nearby divan and folding herself into one corner. Though her movements are somewhat jerky from the pummeling ache in her muscles she is painstakingly careful not to spill a single drop of the drink, lifting it for another long swallow once she’s seated. Closing her eyes she takes a really deep breath and lets it out slowly, visibly becoming calmer.

Danorath’s sigh coalesces both in an outward burst of heavy breath and a mental gust of whirling winds. ««They are much alike. Too much, it seems. They can not see past their own pain.» Ocean currents shift with deep concern, shadowed with a darkness no light can reach before he admits, «It is the same for her, although there is more….something she hides from me. I do not like it. There should be no shadows between us.»

It takes just about every ounce of self control that K’vvan has regained under daily drills with W’rin to not grab Erissa when she pushes by him like that. No. He’ll stand still as a statue and grind his teeth together. “Losing my knot had nothing to do with how I f*king performed in drills. If your head wasn’t so far up your ass you’d know that too. My f*ckups are not being familiar with the drills and Nadeeth not having the same strength as You Whirlies. What the f*k is your excuse?”

Nadeeth falls silent again, keeping close to the blue, but having little else to add.

While the initial rush of the drug easing the many symptoms that weigh her down usually throws Erissa into an amorous high, the anger engendered by K’vvan’s arrival and verbal sparring keep it at an even keel. Opening her eyes she gives the greenrider a look that falls from head to toe, honestly noting the favorable cast of looks and frame. That new haircut really is an improvement.

Patting the cushion next to her she gives him a wry smile, her tone countering it with biting sarcasm. “Why don’t you come over here? Since you haven’t been able to stop throwing that word at me since you walked in you must be trying to tell me you need some action, eh? I’m flattered. Really.”

Ordering him to leave didn’t work. Maybe telling him to stay will.

The change in the bluerider’s tone and that smile actually throw K’vvan for a loop. It takes more than a second for her proposition to skin in, but when it does he scowls. Too close to the belt right now. “I wouldn’t sleep with you for all the marks in the world. So you’re saying that a good rider suddenly sucks for no reason at all. Maybe I should force Nadeeth to tell Vailuth she got hurt and that Danorath was the one at fault.”

It’s petty. That’s where K’vv’s at right now.

Erissa couldn’t be more pleased with the reaction she gets, K’vvan’s confusion exactly what she’d been going for. His scowl only makes her grin more, his insult sliding off her like water. Until he threatens Danorath, that is. Instantly she sits up straighter, bristling from head to toe as the heat of protective defense roars through her system. The conflict of emotions hits her like a twisting cyclone, the drug’s influence fighting for control. In her weakened state she can’t resist it for long.

“Try it, greenrider,” she starts, an entirely inappropriate wicked gleam sparking within the depths of blue-gray hues. “Blame for mistakes in flight can go either way. Who do you think Cha’el is going to believe?”

Getting up she sets her mug on the short table in front of the divan and stretches with sensual ease, turning to walk a few steps toward the sleeping area before turning to speak over her shoulder.

“I’m going to change and go out, I think,” she tosses, nerves singing with pent-up energy. “So unless you want a repeat of your green’s last flight I suggest you take your complaints and shove off.”

K’vvan shouldn’t tango with people who are better at this game then he is. Sudden violence, swearing and action- that’s K’vvan. Cute comebacks and biting slices…. yeah, Erissa wins on that one altogether.

There is more than a physical wince when Erissa’s words cut deeper then she could ever imagine that they have. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes against the sudden sharp pain that stings down him. Instantly he’s reaching out for Nadeeth’s ribbons and she is finally able to help him find that center again. But it will probably take some time as they slowly work through the emotions that K’vvan still doesn’t want to believe exist, and with the distance provided, are slowly being smashed out of being.

So if Erissa does dress and leave… well, K’vvan might not notice right away.

No, instead he turns away from Erissa and walks towards that table where she had mixed up her tea. Reaching out he grabs the wood, using the physical object to try to bring back mental stability.

Erissa is in over her head, drowning in such a state of unnatural bliss that she doesn’t care that K’vvan stays. Continuing on to her wardrobe she dismisses the greenrider from her mind, thoughts floating too high to notice anything stirring beneath them.

Maybe if he threw on a tutu and danced a capella to ’The Ballad of Moreta’s Ride’ around her weyr. THAT might catch her attention.

Sadly, that isn’t gonna happen. So, she pulls off shirt and trousers without a second thought and slips into a pretty sundress, beaming happily when the light material falls with feathery grace about her too-thin frame. Kneeling down beside her bed she reaches under it and pulls out a pair of sandals, then sits on the edge of the mattress to lace them around her ankles. Finally, decked for ease and ready for fun she saunters toward the exit, only pausing a few steps before the exit as Danorath sends her a sharp reminder.

Oh, right. Her guest.

Turning, she gives K’vvan a saucy little smile. “Last chance to loosen up, greenrider,” she pipes, the question of an invitation apparent in her lilting tone if not her words.

Erissa’s standing with the one male in the entire weyr who isn’t about to fall prey to her casual nudity or that pretty little dress of hers. Half way through stripping is when K’vvan finally gets a grip on the ice in his heart, straightens and turns. Having seen her naked before (thanks Nadeeth!) the shocking change in her appearance steals the thoughts of continued reprimand straight from his lips. He’ll stand there, first starring.

Cogs turn, slow, slow, slow as his mind refocuses on something other than Nadeeth’s wing and his anger. “How long have you been losing weight for?” His question is quiet, an almost accusation without the sting that rides upon it. His eyes move from her too thin frame to roam around the weyr- was there anything else he had missed to show that the blue rider was unwell?

Erissa pouts prettily at the unexpected question, giving her skirt a little flirtatious whirl.

"What kind of question is that? Don't you know you're never supposed to refer to a lady's weight?" Noting the lack of anger in his reply she avoids directly answering by waving one hand in dismissal. "You coming or staying?"

With the weyr being slightly messy but with a strong, lived-in feel, staying might be interesting if curiosity was caught by the uniquely vagabond collection of odds-and-ends that she's accumulated to decorate the weyr, all well suited to her complicated nature; however, a discussion on interior decorating is not what she has in mind. Discounting that aspect, nothing seems out of the ordinary except her behavior.

K'vvan isn't stupid. Nor is he slow. Clues drop in one at a time as K'vvan watches Erissa sweep around the room. His eyes drift down to the table before him, then up. Finally they settle on that mug beside the divain.

"Erissa." He steps forward, but doesn't reach out to her, instead taking his gaze back to the woman before him. "How do you feel right now?" A question that doesn't seem to at all be connected with the question that she has been asking.

Green eyes stare intently, waiting on her answer.

Pale lashes flutter within a confused expression for a few seconds, but then it washes away in a wide smile and light chuckle. Twirling in a single circle that flares her skirt Erissa flows forward, sweeping up to K’vvan and draping her fingers in a light brush across his chest.

“I feel fabulous! How about you? Come on! Let’s go have some fun.” Dark blue hues are bright above the ring of sleep-deprived shadows. “Unless you’d rather stay in?” she adds with a coy little grin and despite his earlier stance on that suggestion. Generous curves are markedly evident in the pretty little sundress, in which she poses to full advantage, ignoring the fall of white-blond bangs that sweep partially over her face.


K’vvan just watches Erissa, the cogs turning in his head. Her flirting doesn’t arouse any feelings within him, though surely she should know that? The only ounce of passion that has ever been shared between the pair was during Nadeeth’s last flight and surely there’s nothing left there. Expect, when she touches him, he doesn’t flinch backwards.

That’s new.

Abruptly, he reaches out to grab that hand of hers. “How long have you been feeling… fabulous.” It rolls off his tongue like a swear word. He’ll even tug her closer, those green eyes of his utterly unreadable.

Almond shaped eyes widen as her hand is suddenly snatched, a flash of erratic anger flickering through the effervescent surface of her emotions. It blossoms in the form of a becoming flush as he pulls her closer, momentarily alleviating the gaunt shadows of her features. It doesn’t last though, slipping away as quickly as it came.

Lifting her chin slightly to level her gaze to his she merely stares a moment as if she’s forgotten who he is, instead simply admiring intense green hues.

“I don’t know,” she answers in a light, dismissive tone. “It doesn’t matter. I feel really good right now and you should too.” With that she tries to step closer, a light tug testing his hold on her wrist.

Erissa is getting into K’vvan’s personal space and… he’s okay with this? At least, he isn’t either shoving her away nor is he moving away himself. Instead that grip of his shifts, and he runs a hand up her arm until he’s cupping her neck lightly in his hands. Inwardly he makes note of what his eyes could already see and now his hands can feel- the absence of weight under the skin. He can feel every contour of her bones slide under his fingertips.

The intensity of his gaze doesn’t fade a bit, as he locks gaze with the blond haired woman. “How can I feel good? S*it only knows I could use it.” And he isn’t lying at that. “What do you have Erissa? Please,” his voice has… softened? Like he was never angry with her at all. A step closer and they’re almost chest to chest, with only a breath between them.

Somewhere in the distance Erissa senses something foreign, yet not; a well known touch that skims her mind with cerulean shadows of concern, coal and silver clouds whisked by agitated winds that threaten to storm but remain on the horizon. With her emotions too flighty to care she ignores that presence and instead focuses on her visitor.

The slide of his hand makes her skin hum with a hair-raising tingle that's all too familiar. That it’s K'vvan she's reacting to doesn't matter. The music in her veins has a melody all it's own and it senses a harmony in the greenrider's pain.

“Oh K'vvan," she purrs in a tone that's never framed his name before. One hand rises to set over his at her neck and after a brief squeeze she nudges it free to wrap in both of hers. Stepping backward toward the divan she tugs him gently forward. "I know just what you need."

K’vvan allows her to enfold his hand in hers. A gentle squeeze, encouraging as he follows her step by step to the divan. There he’ll step close again, almost a breath away from Erissa, again. “What do I need Erissa?” He isn’t quite as good at this as she is, but he’s not blind to the way that she had said his name. Suspicion curls deep in his chest, but is not confirmed. Effort is taken, as he pushes past those phobias and deeply rooted compulsions to push away, not pull closer. Especially not to Erissa. But… half of him wants whatever it is she has. If he’s right… it would be a release, and an escape from the endless work and heartache of separation. A deep part of him longs for anything to block out the moment, and with the oblivion of alcohol denied…

But his cooler side also has a say. If she did have something that was causing this shift he needed to know what it is. Not that he has decided to what to do with it, but something deep in his gut (perhaps that Britan need to always have something over someone else) pushes him to know.

«What are you doing?» Nadeeth’s ribbons wrap tightly around K’vvan’s, as she pulls away from her own sorrows long enough to realize K’vvan is acting atypical. ««You do not like her.»

.«No. I don’t. But… something is wrong here Nadeeth and I think… don’t leave the ledge. Talk to Danorath.»

That directive stuns Nadeeth into silence. But he suggested it, so that’s what she will do, sending her loving ribbons wrapping around those breezes in confusion. No distinct words, just confusion.

Erissa has no idea of the internal battle K’vvan is having; she only knows that he comes at her urging and his capitulation brings a sultry smile of anticipation to her lips. Guiding him to the divan she glances once over her shoulder toward the short table and mug that she left there before aligning the greenrider with a cushioned seat and stepping right up against him. Either he’ll stay standing and be close enough to share the same breath or fall backward into the seat as she intends.

Outside, Danorath stirs as Erissa shuts him out. Waves crest and crash in frothy hues across the muzzle that lifts and turns toward the weyr tunnel, the temptation to go inside and physically force her attention pulling strongly at the stocky blue. The sudden touch of Nadeeth’s ribbons snatcesh his focus and strong winds twist and curl around them, sharing in her confusion. «She is happy. But something is not right.»

It’s an effort to not push back. But it’s an effort K’vvan is willing to pay for his mixed desires. Shoving his discomfort and the edges of panic into a void which he’ll pay for later he shares that breath with Erissa for what seems like a long moment, but is really just a blink of an eye. Then backwards he is falling into that cushion, not losing eye contact for a moment with the dark blue-gray of hers.

Nadeeth shifts, sensing the temptation in him to stop whatever is happening. ««He helps?» but that question mark is formed with ribbons larger than the sentiment. Nothing good had ever happened (well, not that she remembers of course) when her lifemate got this close to the bluerider. But other then hints of the panic she is so familiar with he doesn’t seem to be freaking out so she’ll wait… patiently. At least for now.

Erissa holds her stance as well, chin lifted so that the slightest move by either one would bring their lips together. But then he sits and a smug little lift tugs at hers instead. Eyes fired with a mischievous flare she points a finger at him.


That said she moves to one side, still holding that steady green gaze until rounding the divan and forced to watch where she’s walking. Going over to the counter she says nothing while retrieving another mug and pouring the last of the heated water out of a pitcher. It’s more warm than hot now but will do the job. Returning to K’vvan she gracefully bends to pick up the tea bag from her own discarded mug and put it into his. It won’t be as strong as hers had been but Goran is careful not to give her extra so it’s all she has.

Moving to stand in front of him while she bobs the bag on a string in the water she catches that gaze of his again and the curve of her smile holds a definite challenge. Nudging his knees together with hers she eases onto the divan herself and straddles his lap, the skirt of her sundress making it easy. Carefully bringing the mug close to his mouth she pauses to let him take it.

“Drink this,” she instructs, voice once again coached in that breathy tone.

K'vvan watches as she moves, no smile bridging upon his lips. No, but that mixed desire will gleam in his green eyes- an approximation to her need enough for the moment. He licks his lips when her back is to him, and closes his eyes, reaching out to Nadeeth.

«I need you. Like you did for Cha'el.» It's a plea almost, but if Erissa comes back the way she went… if he's reading that look in her eyes right. Part of him screams to stop, stand up, get out of there, but he squashes it with a strength of personality that is struggling to rise through the adversity and heartache.

Though confusion still wraps tightly around Nadeeth, and the unspoken questions pour, she doesn't hesitate, pulling back on that panic that close physical contact gives.

The sound of her footfalls coming closer has him flipping those lids open again. This time he'll attempt a smile, and it must do something because she's folding herself upon him. His hands tremble with the effort to not push her away, to let this happen, because he has to know. They clench into fists before he forces them to relax and reach up for that mug. Rather than take the mug though, he folds his hands over hers. He can't hide the way they shake, and he uses the steadiness of hers to help guide the mug to his lips. A pause right before the liquid passes his lips, but he steps over that line.

Not once does his gaze waiver from hers; no turning back now.

Pale brows rise slightly as he puts his hands over hers instead of taking the mug himself, but Erissa easily moves with the change and leans forward just a bit more to keep the liquid steady, her knees pushing into the cushions on either side of his hips. The shake of his hold is noted but dismissed, the rush of drug-laced adrenaline rushing through her system too loud to allow distraction. Other details like having him sprawled beneath her and the feel of his thighs beneath her derriere make her heart beat harder and breath come quicker.

Dark blond lashes feather a slightly hooded gaze that watches closely as the mug finds his mouth and tips… ever so carefully… and muscles move in his jaw as he swallows. Licking her own lips she finally raises her eyes to his, desire flashing like stormclouds in the gray shadows of dark blues.

The shake holds steady, but her hands keep the liquid from tipping anywhere but down his throat. Eyes finally close, as breath is put on hold for the moment. He'll drink, no pauses, adam apple bobbing slightly as he swallows swiftly till the liquid is gone. Weak and bitter is the drink, nothing like the pleasurable experience the woman has obviously experiencing.

A deep breath is taken as K'vvan finally takes the mug in both hands. The shaking is still there, but with Nadeeth pushing from behind he is holding onto the physical contact panic better than he could have a turn ago. It's a vague flash of surprise there- maybe that time with Cha'el had done more than he had expected. The mug is taken from Erissa's grip, and his eyes flutter open again. There are hers, staring into his, their blue-gray intensity reaching a spark out to him.

The drug moves slower, much much slower though his system. «Don't stop.» K'vvan pleads silently to Nadeeth.

He has to know.

Sitting up his body presses against hers as the mug is set aside onto the divan.

If he was wrong there was still time to stop this. With the muscle rebuilt after months of specific W'rin attention, he could fight her off easily enough. She was so slender.

Upwards he reaches, with those hands free now, brushing gently at the curve of her chin.

Any sort of surmising on how much K’vvan is affected by the drug is too deep for Erissa to contemplate right now. Physical sensations soar on a cresting wave of narrowly focused emotions. When he sits up she settles further into his lap and drops her hands to lay palms lightly on his chest for balance. Then he’s caressing her chin and she can’t resist the pull of those green eyes any longer. Dipping her head she brings her lips to hover over his, pausing to let the spill of warm breath mingle for just a moment as anticipation builds like a mad rush of wind in her ears.

Something flickers in the back of her mind. Something so deep it couldn’t be smothered. It tries to get her attention and she tilts her head, lips brushing feather-light against his.

Another moment and need surges upward with a roar, refusing to be denied any longer. Fingertips curl into the material of his shirt as she shifts just enough to close the minute gap that’s left, covering his mouth with hers as a low moan slips from her throat.

Deep down, K'vvan is still a male. Repressed, scared, with deep scars, but male. The slow crawl of that lukewarm liquid in his stomach, and the soft presence of Nadeeth in his mind fosters what has been kept deep inside for all of his adult life, and only recently has slowly been breaking out of its shell.

Hands upon the curve of her chin trace upwards, slowly working their way into blond strands. Somehow it is different then he remembers. Detachment is creeping into the back of his mind, creating distance between himself and the phobia and uncertainty. He can look at it from afar as never before.

The feel of her lips against his evokes a response so atypical as to almost be painful. It shifts abruptly, with something clicking into place that he never understood was out of place. Desire takes control and he curls his hands into that hair, gripping it lightly to keep her in place, to stretch out the moment as long as he can. Is this what it was suppose to be like? The rush and dizziness, the feeling of being suspended in space where the only thing that mattered was what was in front of you?

Creeping deeper the detachment grows till K'vvan is fully without himself, panic, phobia, repression set far enough away that Nadeeth can control it easily, leaving K'vvan to just… let go and experience. “Erissa….” His breath curls across hers lips as the kiss breaks for a half second before he's claiming with a possessiveness only to be found deep in that detachment. His other hand snakes around her, feeling the contours of her back under his hand and keeping her tightly pressed against him.

Erissa is already long suspended in that space, surrounded by a thick fog of shadowy desire that won’t let anything else through to distract her. It leaves her feeling simplified to the singular sensation of being turned inside-out and awash in a passion that seeps into every inch of her body and calls out for resolution.

She might not know what’s going on in K’vvan’s head but Erissa can feel the change in how he responds, her body automatically reacting in kind. Leaning forward as he pulls her close she rears up with knees digging in and hips shifting to grind against his lap. His touch is keenly felt through the thin material of her sundress and bare shoulders hunch together with the urge to curl into his chest.

Hearing her name makes her pulse do a little two-step and she renews the kiss deeper than before, seeking to taste as well as feel. Hands rise to frame either side of his neck.

No, there’s no stopping now.

The next morning………..

K’vvan rouses slowly, a dull ache having settled deep into his bones. The Igen winter is chilly, the kind of chill that discourages needless movement. And K’vvan isn’t wanting to move at this moment, not with that ache pushing through him and the warmth next to him. Fingers move to pull up the blanket… only to brush against something softer than the cotton of his coverings. is hand brushes again against the smooth warmth, the part of his mind still reeling with detachment reveling in the touch.


The thought breaks though finally as things slowly begin to settle into place.

Erissa. The tea.

K’vvan lays there for a while longer, still too far detached to pull himself out of the warmth of their intertwined bodies. He’ll make the most of that detachment, staring at the problem from the outside and secretly reveling in the break from fear of physical touch. He knows it will fade with time, with whatever had coursed through his system and pushed away the inhibitions that violent sexual encounters born of dragon mating had carved deep into his psyche. There’s an awareness of what passed between him and the woman next to him, but no revulsion. No self-hatred. His hand runs across soft skin as it turns slowly towards new thoughts.

The tea.

He had been right. Erissa’s abrupt mood change wasn’t something inherent in the erratic bluerider’s modus operandi. It was triggered, caused. If the euphoric high and arousal had been what he had experienced… what must she have gone though to make her react to him so strongly even with the bitterness… no, the hatred between them?

The bitterness and hatred towards the woman crumbles and scatters- at least for now. Forcing his eyes to flicker open he focuses on the blond head curled against him. She seems smaller somehow; smaller than the demon which he had so utterly focused his anger upon. And it wasn’t just the weight loss. She looked… fragile, like if he was to move too swiftly she would break. Only in this moment of zen does it finally snap together that he and she? Two sides of the same coin. Whatever demons drove her to the drug were kin and clan to the ones that woke him soaked in sweat in the middle of the night reaching for alcohol to dull the pain.

K’vvan presses his lips against her forehead, softly. “I’m so sorry.” It is an effort, hindered by the ache, to move slowly enough to not wake the woman. First his arm, then legs, till finally he pulls himself out from under the covers. The detachment makes it hard to judge distances, and his foot thumps heaving against the floor before he can stand swaying slightly beside her bedside. Eyes sweep across the weyr searching for his clothing, tossed at some forgotten point of passion.

Stumbling only a little he manages to dress, his clothes the same as those from the night before. His mind takes a break from the introspection to focus on that simple task. But when it is complete they swing right back.

So now he knows. The petty desire to hold it over the woman’s head is snapped and cast to the wayside. Pity has replaced it. Pity and understanding. So what now? His eyes seek out the edges of the weyr as if the answer might be lying out in the open and jump out at him.

And it is.

There, on the dresser where she has first mixed that tea lays her riding jacket with the tough embroidered patch of Whirlwind staring at him from the folds of the fabric.

In Whirlwind it was others above self. Team work. Cooperation. Watching someone else’s back.

So that’s what he’ll do. Still moving slowly he swings till his eyes focus on the mug on the divan. Whatever was in that mug held the key to helping Erissa. Stepping forward through the fog of detachment he grips the mug and cradles it into his hand. Anyone else might not know where to go with this.

But K’vvan does. Who else had scumbag relatives who wouldn’t hesitate to deal in drugs?

If anyone could know what the drug was, or know how to find out, it would be his family. And the price they would charge for the answer?

It would be worth it.

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