A Kindness Repaid [V'riy]

Moving past Arddra, V'riy gestured toward the long wooden bench against the outer wall of what served as his living room. "Thank you," he responded. "I've tried to make it more.. homey, but I suppose I live a spartan lifestyle. Many dragonriders do. The paintings do have a calming effect, though," he said to her, indicating the oil painting on the far wall, depicting a bronze dragon and his rider searing Thread from the skies, the dragon's eyes whirling red. He tilted his head toward the adjacent wall, where another oil painting hung, this one showing a landscape that looked suspiciously like a dragonback view of Benden Weyr, if you knew what Benden looked like. The paintings, while beautiful to look at, were not highly detailed, suggesting that the artist was still learning his or her trade. "Gifts from an old friend."

"Make yourself at home, please," he insisted as he popped into the kitchenette to check the progress of the stew. "Hmmm.. nearly there. Just a few more minutes," he commented, giving the pot a few stirs.

Noticing that she had not sat down and was holding out his shirt for inspection, V'riy leaned against the frame of the doorway. He listened attentively as she explained what she had done to fix the mangled arm. He wished that he could ruffle her hair and tell her to relax, that she was safe with him, and take all that nervousness out of her. However, the rider knew it was best to maintain the distance between them. He would take her seriously, pay attention, and smile his brotherly smile instead. He continuously reminded himself to be careful. She was like a newly hatched dragonet; only warmth and affection would do. And no sudden movements.

Striding across the room, he accepted the shirt from Arddra. Since she had done such a good job repairing the damage, it took him a moment locate the stitching. He tested the newly joined fabric by pulling gently at the seam, and murmured appreciatively. "This will last me for quite some time. You've done a great job with this, Arddra," he told her, letting his appreciation for her efforts show in his grateful smile and approving tone.

Turning, with a "be right back," the rider disappeared behind a closed door. He returned after only a moment's time after stowing the shirt away and went past her again into the kitchen. "Aha!" came through the doorway, and V'riy shuffled about the smaller room, setting out bowls, spoons, and mugs on a square polished wooden table. The pot came off the hanger and onto a raised stone platform that functioned as a small counter. He rummaged in a large wooden cabinet with double doors, producing a ladle.

Snatching up the bowls, he filled first one, then the other before setting them both back on the table. The pleasant aroma of the thickened stew filled the small hut as steam rose from the bowls. V'riy quickly covered the pot with its matching lid and placed the ladle on top of it.

"I managed not to spill," he chucked at himself. "Please, do relax and have a seat. The stew is prepared in the style of Fort Hold, although I've left out the things that tend to repeat on me… garlic being one of them. Being the son of a Jr. Headwoman means you have to know your way around the kitchen," he said matter-of-factly as he pulled the closest seat out for her, waiting patiently.