11.Oct.19, 09:44 AM
Casa glided fuzzily to where Azrin directed her, her body thrumming and her head full of fog. She thoroughly enjoyed many of her lovers; T’ryn was gaining much more confidence and she was having a lot of fun exploring his innocent but fun kinks. There were others, of course, such as K’tir and Mylorah, but they’d been busier than not and everyone of them did sex so differently. It probably had a lot to do with Azrin being her first experience with sex, but Casa found they had a delicious chemistry. She didn’t know why, nor did she care. Certainly, there was no illusions of love from either of them, and while Casa was quite positive Azrin could and would kill her if he so desired, she also figured he was aware that while her efforts would be a lot clumsier, she could certainly wipe him off the map without too much issue. Quite literally, since her go-to would be Thallyath grabbing him in her pretty gold claws and just dropping him between. Maybe that was what caused the intensity?
Curling into the seat, Casa took the glass of scotch she was handed blindly, her gaze on the lap blanket she had over the arm of her chair. It was a clumsy, hand made piece she’d been bullied into creating during some goldrider lesson or something. Something about idle hands or whatever. At any rate, Casa rather liked it for the chillier nights and mornings. But at that present time, it was going to be a wonderful cum catcher. Drawing her legs up comfortably, Casa shoved the blanket between them so she wouldn’t completely ruin her chair with Azrin’s jizz, and eyed the glass of scotch for a moment before taking a cautious sip. She swallowed it with difficulty, and turned a frown on Azrin as he once more spoke of her being a Weyrwoman. Casa sighed.
She didn’t bother to argue the point. She knew from studies that the Weyrwoman used to be chosen by Flying after a previous Weyrwoman retired, and that the dragon who won would be Weyrleader. She also knew that the older dragonriders had changed the rules back in Katila, when Krypth was flying every other damned brown and bronze like a child who couldn’t pick their favourite food. Add in the extreme frequency of her flights, and Casa really wasn’t surprised that they decided to make adjustments. A Weyrleader changing every six to eight months would cause a lot of upset. Never knowing who would be in charge in the near future, hoping it wasn’t so and so or desperately praying that it would be. No, the current method was much better for everyone. However, it also didn’t guarantee that Casa would ever be selected. With the dragonriders choosing the Weyrleader, and the Weyrleader choosing his Weyrwoman, Casa had no doubt she wouldn’t be at the top of anyone’s list.
Seniority didn’t even matter; it was just coincidence that the current Weyrwomen were all bonded to the older golds, and there were a lot of other goldriders available, ones who didn’t come with the kind of gossip attached to Casa, no matter how much ‘cleaning up’ Azrin set out to do. He was rambling about Lords and studies, but Casa’s mind was still on the rather laughable idea of her being Weyrwoman. “Azrin,” she interrupted gently as he waved towards his bag. “All the current Weyrwomen were chosen by their Weyrleaders, and then approved by the other Weyrleaders.” She shook her head, leaning forward slightly. “Even you couldn’t clean up my reputation enough to be considered. There are over twenty goldriders, and only three un-opened Weyrs.” Her expression was bewildered. “Even if its years away, how are you planning to put me up for consideration, never mind being chosen?” It would take years just to get anyone at all to take her seriously, especially after the disaster of Thallyath’s maiden.
Curling into the seat, Casa took the glass of scotch she was handed blindly, her gaze on the lap blanket she had over the arm of her chair. It was a clumsy, hand made piece she’d been bullied into creating during some goldrider lesson or something. Something about idle hands or whatever. At any rate, Casa rather liked it for the chillier nights and mornings. But at that present time, it was going to be a wonderful cum catcher. Drawing her legs up comfortably, Casa shoved the blanket between them so she wouldn’t completely ruin her chair with Azrin’s jizz, and eyed the glass of scotch for a moment before taking a cautious sip. She swallowed it with difficulty, and turned a frown on Azrin as he once more spoke of her being a Weyrwoman. Casa sighed.
She didn’t bother to argue the point. She knew from studies that the Weyrwoman used to be chosen by Flying after a previous Weyrwoman retired, and that the dragon who won would be Weyrleader. She also knew that the older dragonriders had changed the rules back in Katila, when Krypth was flying every other damned brown and bronze like a child who couldn’t pick their favourite food. Add in the extreme frequency of her flights, and Casa really wasn’t surprised that they decided to make adjustments. A Weyrleader changing every six to eight months would cause a lot of upset. Never knowing who would be in charge in the near future, hoping it wasn’t so and so or desperately praying that it would be. No, the current method was much better for everyone. However, it also didn’t guarantee that Casa would ever be selected. With the dragonriders choosing the Weyrleader, and the Weyrleader choosing his Weyrwoman, Casa had no doubt she wouldn’t be at the top of anyone’s list.
Seniority didn’t even matter; it was just coincidence that the current Weyrwomen were all bonded to the older golds, and there were a lot of other goldriders available, ones who didn’t come with the kind of gossip attached to Casa, no matter how much ‘cleaning up’ Azrin set out to do. He was rambling about Lords and studies, but Casa’s mind was still on the rather laughable idea of her being Weyrwoman. “Azrin,” she interrupted gently as he waved towards his bag. “All the current Weyrwomen were chosen by their Weyrleaders, and then approved by the other Weyrleaders.” She shook her head, leaning forward slightly. “Even you couldn’t clean up my reputation enough to be considered. There are over twenty goldriders, and only three un-opened Weyrs.” Her expression was bewildered. “Even if its years away, how are you planning to put me up for consideration, never mind being chosen?” It would take years just to get anyone at all to take her seriously, especially after the disaster of Thallyath’s maiden.