29.Mar.14, 10:47 AM
He could feel Xyreith’s rage and disgust curling through the back of his mind, warming his blood even as it cooled after the rather unorthodox encounter he had just finished; the moment his mind had begun to clear, R’nya had detangled himself from his partner. He had watched the man, crumpled on the floor, as he settled his pants back in place and neatly retied the laces; he was both surprised and delighted that they were in fine condition still, not that such showed on his face.
By the time K’tir turned his head to peer up at him once more, R’nya was straightening his shirt. It could have been worse, of course; he could have taken the damned man to a bedroom and lost all his clothing. Though, honestly, R’nya wasn’t quite sure that the act of not losing all his clothing was any better. He had always considered himself above such actions as to randomly pick off and fuck another dragonrider post flight. He’d usually managed to find a willing female partner and an empty room. Over all, R’nya did not think Xyreith’s lust had been that strong so much as the overwhelming array of emotions – topped, finally, by frustration.
That would certainly explain it, he decided, still staring blandly down at K’tir. The brownrider had not managed to lose all his clothing, either, and though his pants had been kicked off, he still had one boot on. R’nya’s frown came into life, knitting his eyebrows just slightly, lips pursing. He had seen men in worse states, but admittedly, R’nya was fairly sure they were usually greenriders, and generally far from so smugly amused. “You look ridiculous,” he pointed out mildly, voice as bland as ever. He was beyond glad that the other goldriders were far from the Weyr, and the chance of Ameris coming out of the nearby room was minimal. Granted, she would probably think R’nya had found K’tir as he was, not created the scene himself.
Where are you? His mind reached out for his dragon, but he got no response beyond a vague indication that Xyreith was down by the lake, moping in a most uncharacteristic manner. R’nya abandoned him to his sulking, and returned his attention to K’tir. All things considered, he should have simply stepped over the man and left him there, but R’nya was reluctant to leave Ameris alone with Faranth-knew-who (since Xyreith wasn’t speaking to him), though he certainly wasn’t about to stick his nose in. Perhaps he would go and see which dragon was curled around Mizeath.
Throwing a last flat look at K’tir, R’nya turned to leave.
By the time K’tir turned his head to peer up at him once more, R’nya was straightening his shirt. It could have been worse, of course; he could have taken the damned man to a bedroom and lost all his clothing. Though, honestly, R’nya wasn’t quite sure that the act of not losing all his clothing was any better. He had always considered himself above such actions as to randomly pick off and fuck another dragonrider post flight. He’d usually managed to find a willing female partner and an empty room. Over all, R’nya did not think Xyreith’s lust had been that strong so much as the overwhelming array of emotions – topped, finally, by frustration.
That would certainly explain it, he decided, still staring blandly down at K’tir. The brownrider had not managed to lose all his clothing, either, and though his pants had been kicked off, he still had one boot on. R’nya’s frown came into life, knitting his eyebrows just slightly, lips pursing. He had seen men in worse states, but admittedly, R’nya was fairly sure they were usually greenriders, and generally far from so smugly amused. “You look ridiculous,” he pointed out mildly, voice as bland as ever. He was beyond glad that the other goldriders were far from the Weyr, and the chance of Ameris coming out of the nearby room was minimal. Granted, she would probably think R’nya had found K’tir as he was, not created the scene himself.
Where are you? His mind reached out for his dragon, but he got no response beyond a vague indication that Xyreith was down by the lake, moping in a most uncharacteristic manner. R’nya abandoned him to his sulking, and returned his attention to K’tir. All things considered, he should have simply stepped over the man and left him there, but R’nya was reluctant to leave Ameris alone with Faranth-knew-who (since Xyreith wasn’t speaking to him), though he certainly wasn’t about to stick his nose in. Perhaps he would go and see which dragon was curled around Mizeath.
Throwing a last flat look at K’tir, R’nya turned to leave.