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+--- Thread: [G] [P] [EVENT] 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy (/showthread.php?tid=4151)
739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - F'drel - 09.Jul.18
It was really unfair, to F’drel’s mind, how unpredictable this Flight business was. He hadn’t had any forewarning (that he’d noticed, though others could probably say differently) for Miri’s maiden Flight, and this second one was also completely out of the blue. At least she hadn’t been Flying every other month, but this first year, no established schedule business was a right pain. He’d only had maybe a minute between realizing Halomirth was proddy and his green launching herself into the air.
Which meant F’drel had no idea where he currently was. He’d been going to the store rooms to pick up some soapsand for Halomirth, which was nowhere near his own weyr, so of course that was when she’d decided she wanted attention of the male variety. And, even though he had no idea where he was or who he was with — he could feel their arm thrown over his stomach — Miri was so damn happy F’drel couldn’t even feel more than vaguely annoyed about it.
’What are you so pleased about?’ he asked her sleepily, not bothering to open his eyes yet, ’Or should I ask who?’ He didn’t think it was Zeianth again, he knew D’hys well enough by now to tell that whoever was next to him was not that particular bluerider, but he couldn’t remember who had given chase, let alone who won, and Miri had so many friends she would have been happy to be caught by.
Aveleth. she trilled shyly, and F’drel could feel the delight at that radiating off her.
Ah. That explained the happiness. Halomirth would never admit to having favorite friends, and maybe didn’t even realize it herself, but she did. F’drel identified them by how often their names were mentioned. Tesamyth was one, though it still surprised F’drel that Miri managed to endear herself to a gold, and Zeianth had quickly gained the status of favorite as well. Aveleth was another. It was difficult to get much concrete information from Halomirth on her friends — she thought everyone was nice, so when she described a dragon as ‘nice’ it didn’t really mean anything — but from her stories Aveleth seemed like he was, in fact, genuinely nice, not just Halomirth-nice. If Miri were one of his sisters F’drel would tease her about having a crush, but he wasn’t sure dragon affection worked quite the same way — and Halomirth was half in love with everyone anyway.
Still, Miri had mentioned Aveleth enough that F’drel had thought the blue and his rider worth looking into. Not that he’d met the man yet — though as of now he’d had sex with him, and would probably be meeting him soon enough — but F’drel had asked after Aveleth’s rider with a few fellow greenriders. He knew the man’s name — Z’ia— and that he was a fairly gently Flight partner, thanks to his sweetheart of a dragon. That seemed true enough so far, as F’drel wasn’t currently hurting overly much, but he also hadn’t tried moving yet. He didn’t really know much else about Z’ia, but the way one of the greenriders he’d asked talked about the bluerider set him on edge. He’d said nothing bad about Z’ia, but his tone was one F’drel recognized from when he served in Nabol, one that servants and drudges often used about lords and ladies that weren’t particularly pleasant to deal with, that said there was something about the man to be wary of. Which meant, even if Miri was overjoyed, F’drel wasn’t sure how this Flight would turn out on his end. Ah well, might as well get it over with, he decided, opening his eyes to see where he was and finally meet Aveleth’s rider.
Halomirth, for her part, was absolutely radiant with happiness. She wouldn’t have been disappointed with anyone who caught her, all the dragons who chased her were friends or would become friends if they won, but she liked Aveleth. He always had time to talk to her, and didn’t treat her like a silly hatchling the way some older dragons did. Which was fine, Halomirth didn’t mind, she still liked them anyway, but the way Aveleth treated her made her feel special. With a happy croon she nuzzled in closer to him, trying to eliminate any space between them.
Feel free to put them wherever you think is fun.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - Z'ia - 05.Aug.18
Z’ia sighed softly, enjoying the rolling and gentle emotions of quiet pleasure and satisfaction that indicated his sweet dragon had won a flight. He was slightly surprised, really; Aveleth simply didn’t give chase – though they won Rilaleeyth’s flights almost exclusively since the return North, his dragon usually didn’t bother to chase other greens, primarily because he felt so crushed when someone else swooped in and claimed her before she could choose to be with him. Aveleth never snatched a green, not like some blues and browns. He wanted – needed – her to want him.
He was also known to simply drop out of flights if some dragons – such as Zeianth – took part. The sweet dragon couldn’t bring himself to compete against his friends, and usually felt even more insignificant and unworthy when they won. The last time he’d entered a flight – some green’s maiden – he’d been pushed aside by Zeianth and Z’ia had spent weeks getting his dragon out of that slump. Far better to simply avoid any and all flights, especially if D’hys and his blue were involved.
Z’ia’s nose scrunched up at the thought of his friend. They’d been a rather inseparable duo in Katila, but he’d found he didn’t agree with a lot of things D’hys said or did, and not because of moral reasoning, but because he tended to feel that the other bluerider looked down on him. Aveleth had tried to tell him it was all in his head, of course, but Z’ia wasn’t so sure. D’hys was an arrogant, demanding prick and Z’ia would just as happily stab him in the back, as he would defend him. Probably more happily, considering the emotional disaster the bastard’s dragon had created when he snatched that young green from Aveleth!
“You greenriders pick the strangest locations,” Z’ia said mildly, when he felt F’drel stir in a way that indicated the man was conscious. His voice was husky, but he didn’t bother to try and clear his throat; it’d fix itself as the dragonlust and events of the morning faded. “Honestly,” he said, amusement lingering on his tone. “A storage room?” At least they’d ended up in a good one; with how hot Ista had been of late, most of the community rooms had stored their heavier bedding away, and apparently, they’d found a good chunk of it, and made a mess of a nest in the middle of the room. Z’ia grinned.
“I feel sorry for whomever is on laundry duty.” He teased, lifting an eyebrow playfully as he eyed F’drel out of the corner of his eye.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - F'drel - 05.Aug.18
“I somehow doubt she cares where I am when she Flies,” F’drel mumbled drowsily, blinking a bit to wake his vision up enough he could take a look around where they were. It was, indeed, a storage room, though not the one he'd been headed toward. Which was probably a good thing, since blankets were a lot easier to clean and less likely to break when knocked into than jars of cleaning and bathing supplies. He did not want to wake up from Flight lust to find he’d rolled around in broken glass. Honestly, a room full of unused blankets wasn’t that bad — considering some of the stories he'd heard and Flights he'd actually seen himself — it could’ve been much worse. In fact, the blanket pile was rather comfortable, F’drel thought, looking down at the blankets before looking back to Z’ia, “I can pass on your opinion to her, if you like, but I don’t think she’ll change her ways, even if staying in my own weyr would be lovely.”
To be fair to Halomirth, F’drel had no idea how much control she actually had over Flying. The way older riders talked it sounded like greens had some control, but maybe that was a skill they learned with age and experience, and Miri wasn’t there yet. Might be worth a conversation with another greenrider about.
Z’ia’s comment about laundry, though clearly meant to be humorous, missed its mark a bit with F’drel, who immediately — and genuinely — felt bad for whatever person may realize they had to clean half a storeroom. The whole idea sat poorly with him, and F’drel resigned himself to doing the laundry himself. Later. Once he could convince himself to move.
Still, Z’ia probably wanted a response, and F’drel figured he might as well play along. He was always a bit uncomfortable letting people know too much about who he’d been before becoming F’drel of Halomirth, and an instinct to make less work for drudges and servants and do the laundry himself might reveal a bit too much. Greenriders were already not looked upon as particularly high status, and adding the fact he'd been a drudge on top of that felt… dangerous.
So instead F’drel smiled lightly, teasing back, “As long as someone does the laundry. I’d hate to have a blanket in here if no one came in to clean until it gets cold again. If it ever gets cold again.” He pouted a little at the thought of how hot Ista was. Still absolutely unpleasant to live in. “This storage room isn’t that hot though, actually.” F’drel said thoughtfully, awake enough to notice he was, in fact, not currently blisteringly warm. “Must be ‘cause it’s deeper inside stone and has no windows. Good to know, I suppose.” Hanging out in storage rooms may be a good way to avoid the disgusting weather. He considered the option, lazily watching Z'ia's hand move on his stomach. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but his ingrained reservations about new people kept him a bit wary of the contact — though far less on edge than he usually was, considering at least half his emotions just then were Miri’s pleasure at being with Aveleth. Even acknowledging his hesitations, Miri was too happy just then for him to risk driving the bluerider off — and F'drel had no idea if Aveleth would stay with Miri if he pissed off the blue’s rider in some way — so he stayed quiet, waiting to get a better idea of who Z’ia was and what he wanted before trying to get away, do laundry, and take a nap. Besides, he didn’t think Miri would let him get up yet anyway, not with her idealistic hopes about him making friends with the people he slept with. Right.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - Z'ia - 29.Aug.18
“It doesn’t seem to be a consideration for most of them,” Z’ia allowed, amused. He’d seen some pretty spectacular flights just because of where or when the green decided to take to the skies. The girls in their maiden years were the best, popping into the sky at intervals that their young rider just never seems to be anticipating! Z’ia was pleased, not for the first time, that he’d Impressed to a blue. Having Aveleth give chase was not nearly as disconcerting as he felt actually being the green’s rider would be. Besides, Aveleth was so sweet, always asking if it was okay if he gave chase – Z’ia knew for a fact that a randy green did not ask her Bonded if it was okay if she took flight. Not even Rilaleeyth, and she was possibly the sweetest dragon to ever Hatch, alongside his own.
Z’ia turned his head to look at F’drel, lifting his eyebrows and quirking a lazy smile at the pout. “The Weyr holds a lot of secrets,” he said, shifting his gaze back up to the stone ceiling. He’d spent most of the past few weeks poking around in the depths of the Weyr, especially where other people didn’t go. Partly, he did it because it was fun and he was a nosy bastard, and partly because even Z’ia could only soak up so much sun before he had had enough. To be sure, the bluerider was very well tanned and his dark hair bleached several shades lighter than it naturally grew.
“Have you explored the Weyr much?” Z’ia asked, blue eyes wide as he looked curiously at F’drel.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - F'drel - 30.Aug.18
It took all of F’drel’s self control — and a fair amount of drawing from Miri’s own contentment — to keep from rolling his eyes. ‘The Weyr holds a lot of secrets,’ who even says shit like that seriously? It’s a massive place that had been abandoned for twenty turns, of course there were things that people didn’t know or had forgotten about. Especially young, holdbred riders like F’drel. Of course, he wasn’t gonna tell Z’ia how ridiculously inane his statement was. F’drel wasn’t in the habit of purposely antagonizing blueriders.
“A little bit,” he said, leaning back into the blankets, “Not extensively though.” Candidate barracks, weyrling barracks, most common areas, the hall around his weyr, yes. A few other places, storage rooms and such, mostly from helping out Lower Caverns workers on occasion, but he hadn’t done much exploring just cause. “Why?” he asked, “You offering a tour?” And then F’drel mentally punched himself in the face because he absolutely did not want a tour and he should never have mentioned it and he was an idiot. Apparently he was with it enough post-Flight to not be actively antagonistic, but wasn’t with it enough to not accidentally hand out invitations to waste his time with little notes saying ‘hi, I’m interested in you’ on them, because that was the exact opposite of what he wanted.
’I hope he’s worth it.’ F’drel grumbled at Halomirth, who responded with a sleepy trill and curled closer to Aveleth. F’drel sighed. Greens.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - Z'ia - 07.Sep.18
“You should!” Z’ia said brightly, turning his head to grin at F’drel, blue eyes sparkling. “It can be a lot of fun!” Considering that Z’ia had a secret habit of skydiving from his dragon, exploring the depths of the Weyr was more along the lines of ‘mundane entertainment’ than actual fun. But he did enjoy it, for the most part. He was always surprised by how few other folks took the time to poke around in the deeper caverns though. What were they afraid of? It was like they actually didn’t want to know what their home was like! Crazy people!
The quip about offering a tour had Z’ia beaming with a soft laugh. “I could give one!” He said cheerfully, his hand on F’drel’s stomach stilling for a moment as he considered the greenrider. “Where have you explored?” he asked, sitting up slightly and peering down at F’drel with wide eyes, and a bright smile. “There are a lot of fun tunnels and stuff,” he said, widening his eyes. “Makes getting from one end of the weyr to the other a lot faster!” Which was a great trick, especially when your dragon wanted to take chase and the greenrider was on the other side of the damned volcano!
Z’ia had a feeling the young greenrider would also love them for disappearing quickly; he certainly seemed the type to want to hide a lot more than be on display. Something Z’ia was sure he could make work in his favour at some point, if he so desired. For now, he was having a lot of fun watching the way the greenrider seemed to do a lot of talking before thinking, and then kick himself afterwards. Greenies were such fun!
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - F'drel - 09.Sep.18
“Dunno,” F’drel shrugged, eyeing Z’ia cautiously as the man sat up a bit, “the normal places? Couple storage rooms. Under different circumstances than this, though.” he added, not really wanting to give the impression he was all for getting laid in storage rooms or closets. He wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. “Haven’t explored any tunnels unless you consider the average hallway a tunnel.”
Really, now that he thought about it, F’drel was actually somewhat surprised he hadn’t tried to get to know they Weyr better. He knew every hall, room, and passageway in the Lord’s residence in Nabol, but he hadn’t bothered to find out the same here. Maybe that was why? Subconsciously not wanting the same knowledge of the Weyr as he’d had of his old home? Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t had time, especially while Miri was a weyrling.
It didn’t really matter why he hadn’t explored the Weyr more, just that right then the idea of a tour of ‘fun tunnels and stuff’ with an unknown bluerider was one of the least appealing things he could think of. The real question was whether it was worse than staying here. F’drel curled deeper into the blankets, really just wanting to sleep off the ‘Flight hangover’ and not have to deal with Z’ia. He doubted he’d get out of it that easy, but he could try. With a yawn — a real one — F’drel leaned his head against Z’ia’s shoulder, really, really hoping the bluerider was decent enough to just let him rest. And maybe go away, that would make resting easier if he didn’t constantly feel he had to be alert, something made harder with so much of Miri’s feelings mixing with his. She felt no such need for awareness, happy to ignore the rest of the world and nap curled up with someone she actually liked. Lucky girl.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - Z'ia - 21.Sep.18
Z’ia snorted, the expression of amused at F’drel’s response though internally he was beginning to wonder at the intelligence level of the man he was sprawled with. Add to that that the greenrider was definitely exceptionally boring – his foot in mouth syndrome excused – and Z’ia was wondering how to spice up their current situation. As someone who had a secret hobby of skydiving of his dragon, someone who couldn’t even be bothered to explore the Weyr they were living was… Z’ia was pretty sure F’drel had absolutely no sense of adventure or fun.
What a boring existence!
When the greenrider snuggled down and rested his head on Z’ia’s shoulder, the bluerider rolled his eyes upwards, and resisted the urge to sigh dramatically, mostly because he did not want the boring greenrider to know he was irking him. There were times and places to show such emotions, and Z’ia was still busy analysing the situation. Most greenriders, Z’ia knew, were quick smart to escape the room post-flight; it was pretty obvious when they didn’t want more. Now, Aveleth hadn’t won many maiden flights in his time, mostly because he didn’t like to chase a lot. However, Z’ia had heard a lot of talk; greenriders were a favourite topic of most blueriders, after all.
Therefore, with F’drel not bolting, Z’ia concluded that the little greenie didn’t want to be alone. Maybe he didn’t want to get laid again right then, but he was also not screeching ‘no’ at the top of his lungs, either (though honestly, Z’ia rarely cared about the wants of his partner unless it benefited him to. Which it rarely did.) so Z’ia decided he wanted to rest, and then play more. Z’ia could work with that, as boring as it was, because he was frankly curious about whether or not F’drel was as insanely boring during non-flight sex as he was in general life. He had a feeling he would be, but was quite willing to be surprised!
Smirking to himself at the thought, Z’ia shifted in the nest of blankets, wrapping his arms around F’drel and pulling the greenrider’s back flush against his front, nuzzling against the crook of F’drel’s neck and breathing out softly against his ear, nibbling lazily on the lobe. While his own arousal was obvious, Z’ia gave every indication of being happy to let F’drel snooze, stroking the greenrider’s belly in long, soothing strokes that stopped just above his public line and started high on his chest. His breathing was deep and low, as if he himself were barely awake.
RE: 739.07.09 | At Least the Dragons Are Happy - F'drel - 30.Sep.18
The arms wrapping around him had F’drel realizing he needed to learn how to throw off Halomirth’s sleepy post-Flight contentment much faster. He should have been gone several minutes ago, not pulled against a bluerider who was clearly just waiting for the right moment to strike. Not at all something F’drel wanted. The breath against his ear had him tensing up and the feeling of teeth had his heart rate increasing, which of course the bluerider would probably (willfully) interpret as him being into it, not him wanting to be anywhere else but here.
It was bad enough already, but when a hand started stroking his stomach and chest the fear increased tenfold, and suddenly Fendrel was fifteen again, in the soft, overlarge bed of the fifth son of the late Lord Nabol, not in a storage room of a Weyr with some bluerider. He wanted to leave. Reacting purely on panic and impulse, F’drel used the moment where the hand touching him lifted to move back to the start of its path down his body to roll away, as the grip on him lessened. The move was sufficiently unanticipated that it actually worked, and within seconds F’drel was standing up and looking around for his clothes. He found his shirt and pants quickly enough, and the belt was still with his pants, but the socks were still somewhere in the blankets. Giving the socks up as lost, F’drel grabbed his boots, debated putting them on, and decided to just carry them out instead.
“Have a good day, my lord,” he said crisply before turning and leaving the room, not at all registering the words before or after he spoke. The address was so ingrained, even after several turns not using it, F’drel didn’t stop to think. With the dredged up memories so close to the surface, the farewell came with them.
He stopped to put his boots on two hallways down, and managed to look fairly well put together on the way back to his weyr, though his hands were shaking as he tried to open his door. Still shaky, F’drel took his boots back off, carefully lining them up by the door before grabbing a spare sheet and heading out to Miri’s section of the weyr. The unfamiliar blue shape that was Aveleth was still there, and F’drel quietly nodded at him, since Miri liked him and he sounded decent, even if he wanted nothing to do with his rider, before taking his sheet over to Miri’s side that wasn’t pressed against Aveleth. Wrapping himself up in the sheet he tucked himself next to his dragon and curled up against her, planning to sleep off his post-Flight hangover in a much safer location.