22.Feb.18, 09:13 AM
N’mor came to himself slowly, like waking up from a hangover with his head all fuzzy and no real recollection of how he had gotten to wherever it was he was currently located. His eyebrows drew together, furrowing his forehead, and N’mor took stock of what he could tell, without opening them. He was in a bed, a soft one, though he could tell from the gentle touch that he had no sheets covering him. That didn’t bother him, though the warmth he could feel against his right side was slightly alarming. N’mor knew his sister wasn’t visiting the Weyr – she was the only one he shared a bed with – and he certainly wouldn’t have been naked with Amorandii in the bed. His nose crinkled and he opened his eyes lazily, squinting at the afternoon sunlight.
As he did so, he took note of the smugness radiating from Rhezalth. Now, the dragon feeling smug was hardly anything new – he was a smug bastard as a rule – but this smugness was something else entirely. A self-satisfied, completely obnoxious and utterly disgusting set of emotions. N’mor resisted the urge to smirk as his dragon’s emotions radiated into him, and instead took a deep breath, and sighed it out. He felt surprisingly good, not at all like he would have assumed when he woke up. The hangover fuzziness was gone and instead the young man was quite aware though he was still struggling to figure out what had put him in his current location.
Stormy eyes glanced around the weyr, not recognising it. The clear indication that it was occupied by both a man and a woman was not lost on the young bronzerider, however, and he glanced to the side, where a warm breath was breathing against his chest. He was surprised it had taken him so long to realise someone was actually there, and to look and see who it was. He’d known that he wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t until he tilted his chin to see who it was that N’mor actively recalled the fact that he was naked and he had definitely not agreed to be sprawled on the bed with… was that Vaeyla? Sprawled half across him. At least she was laying on his right side, so there was no arm to go numb under her weight.
… you won. You smug bastard. N’mor resisted the urge to burst out into laughter at the whole ordeal. He’d known that Rhezalth was determined going into the Flight, but as much as he loved his dragon, he wouldn’t have put money on the beast actually winning! Damn! N’mor shook his head to himself, and gently eased himself out from under Vaeyla; she was either pretending to sleep or hadn’t yet come around properly like he had. He wasn’t quite sure how the whole thing worked, really. He knew the dragon took control, and he knew people ‘came back’ to themselves at different rates. Whatever. He shrugged to himself as he flicked the blanket up over his companion so she wasn’t kissing the cool air.
N’mor wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was, but he was confident that the goldrider in the bed wouldn’t be interested in a tumble – benefits of her being mated! – and N’mor certainly wasn’t interested in her. Not that she wasn’t nice or anything, but his tastes ran in other directions. The question that remained, though, was – well, was he supposed to stay and converse with her, or was he free to slip out without a word? That seemed rather rude, really, especially since their dragons just got jiggy and Nadioth would (presumably) be laying a clutch sired by Rhezalth in the coming months. Not really sure what to do, N’mor settled on finding his pants and pulling them on, thankful the specially made one-hand clasps hadn’t been damaged in the whole… affair. Appropriately covered, though he did not bother with a shirt, N’mor flopped into a nearby chair and waited to see if he would be dismissed or… whatever.
How did all this work, anyway?
DeeStar
As he did so, he took note of the smugness radiating from Rhezalth. Now, the dragon feeling smug was hardly anything new – he was a smug bastard as a rule – but this smugness was something else entirely. A self-satisfied, completely obnoxious and utterly disgusting set of emotions. N’mor resisted the urge to smirk as his dragon’s emotions radiated into him, and instead took a deep breath, and sighed it out. He felt surprisingly good, not at all like he would have assumed when he woke up. The hangover fuzziness was gone and instead the young man was quite aware though he was still struggling to figure out what had put him in his current location.
Stormy eyes glanced around the weyr, not recognising it. The clear indication that it was occupied by both a man and a woman was not lost on the young bronzerider, however, and he glanced to the side, where a warm breath was breathing against his chest. He was surprised it had taken him so long to realise someone was actually there, and to look and see who it was. He’d known that he wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t until he tilted his chin to see who it was that N’mor actively recalled the fact that he was naked and he had definitely not agreed to be sprawled on the bed with… was that Vaeyla? Sprawled half across him. At least she was laying on his right side, so there was no arm to go numb under her weight.
… you won. You smug bastard. N’mor resisted the urge to burst out into laughter at the whole ordeal. He’d known that Rhezalth was determined going into the Flight, but as much as he loved his dragon, he wouldn’t have put money on the beast actually winning! Damn! N’mor shook his head to himself, and gently eased himself out from under Vaeyla; she was either pretending to sleep or hadn’t yet come around properly like he had. He wasn’t quite sure how the whole thing worked, really. He knew the dragon took control, and he knew people ‘came back’ to themselves at different rates. Whatever. He shrugged to himself as he flicked the blanket up over his companion so she wasn’t kissing the cool air.
N’mor wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was, but he was confident that the goldrider in the bed wouldn’t be interested in a tumble – benefits of her being mated! – and N’mor certainly wasn’t interested in her. Not that she wasn’t nice or anything, but his tastes ran in other directions. The question that remained, though, was – well, was he supposed to stay and converse with her, or was he free to slip out without a word? That seemed rather rude, really, especially since their dragons just got jiggy and Nadioth would (presumably) be laying a clutch sired by Rhezalth in the coming months. Not really sure what to do, N’mor settled on finding his pants and pulling them on, thankful the specially made one-hand clasps hadn’t been damaged in the whole… affair. Appropriately covered, though he did not bother with a shirt, N’mor flopped into a nearby chair and waited to see if he would be dismissed or… whatever.
How did all this work, anyway?
DeeStar