Cinnamon Rolls! [Ellaira]

The Weyr was still miserable since lousing the green weyrling pair a few days prior, but the bluerider had never been one to let such events get him down; besides - they were just a couple of greens. Had it been a blue pair, like that blue Weyrling lost during his own Weyrlinghood, than Z'ia would likely  have been more deeply affected by the loss. But the young man had no investment in a silly little girl and her stupid green beast, so being someber and mopey wasn't on his list of current activities. Oh, he'd bowed his head and kept to himself for the day the Weyr was in shock and horror of the event, but he'd not lingered that way by midday the following. He'd tended to his dragon, who had been sadder - but then, Aveleth was much more sensitive than Z'ia was and the young man had been more concerned about cheering his dragon up than maintaining any stupid appearances when he just didn't care. It was just a green pair! There would be six more to replace them when one of the gold's decided to rise again. It really wasn't any great loss, and for that reason, the spunky young man had decided he didn't give a crap what anyone thought; he needed some entertainment and his dragon needed a treat.

So being said, Z'ia slipped easily into the Kitchens, the tiny man bouncing between workers with a grace uniquely his own, filching cinnamon rolls as he passed and popping them into his mouth or onto the plate he was carrying on one hand, twirling and dancing through the workers, battering off their giggles and playful banter with charming words and sticky fingers. What do you think, Kiddo? Z'ia asked playfully as he skipped outside, curls bouncing around his face as he joined his blue dragon who was basking in the sun in the Gather Square.

You are ridiculous, Aveleth returned gently, his voice mellow and pleased as his rider bounced over to join him, somehow managing not to spill so much as a drop of the food he was carrying on the very overloaded platter. Ooh! Aveleth crooned sweetly, eyes swirling with pleasure as Z'ia presented the young blue with a cinnamon roll, bowing dramatically with a great flourish before popping it in the dragon's mouth, giving him a poke in the nose as he reclaimed his fingers from the beast's jaws.

"Enjoy, Kiddo, 'cause the rest is all mine!"

Aveleth snorted, eyeing both Z'ia and the plate of cinnamon rolls playfully.

Ellaira was tired of the misery of the Weyr. A green weyrling had died, yes - it was tragic. But there were plenty of tragedies in the Weyr turn by turn, and Ellaira had dealt with more than her fair share. She saw no reason to dwell on a death - particularly a clean death - no matter how young that person and dragon were. She had never heard of a weyrling class surviving unscathed through to adulthood, after all. Someone was almost always lost, particularly between. As cold as it seemed... move on she thought to herself, disgruntled, passing yet another person in clear mourning. You probably didn't even know her. Would you be mourning if it wasn't a dragonrider?

Laughter, then, was out of place. Ellaira stopped in her brisk walk and turned, the corner of her mouth pulling up slightly as she watched a small, dark-haired figure bounce across the Gather Square to a blue dragon basking in the sun. She tucked a strand of loose hair behind one ear as her mind whirred to place them. Z'ia and Aveleth, she remembered suddenly. He'd been pointed out to her before, and he came with a long list of warnings that only served to make her more curious, albeit slightly more cautious than she might have been otherwise.

"Rapist", one woman had said. "Cruel", said another. "He likes it rough, whether you do or not," another had grumbled. Gossip was an interesting thing... and Ellaira had never been afraid of a little bit of roughness or cruelty in bed. She bit her lip for a second, then decided... screw it. She didn't need to spend any more time in the dreary company of her depressed coworkers. There was only so much breeding plans one woman could work on while people spoke softly about tragedy.

She strolled over towards the duo, a smile flitting across her face as Z'ia fed his blue a bun of some sort. That can't be good for a dragon, she thought, amused. She closed the distance as the man claimed the rest of the platter for himself. Cinnamon buns, she noted. A favorite.

"All yours?" she asked, all innocence, sweeping a flourished bow to the blue dragon and his rider. Too bad that she was in her work clothing. A curtsy would have been much more lovely. "No chance I could convince you to part with one?" Ellaira flashed him a smile, all but radiating charm and femininity. Oh, she liked flirting.

Z'ia? Aveleth's voice was as mild as ever, and while the young man would usually have taken more notice of his dragon's mellow tone if he wasn't convinced the creature was seeking more cinnamon rolls. Z'ia gave Aveleth a comically distrustful look, even as he flopped onto the ground and settled the tray across his lap. "What, Kiddo." The two words were somewhat mangled by the addition of bun in his mouth, but no way unintelligible and he somehow managed to not spray contents all over Aveleth's nose in the process.

Company. The young blue than shrank back and in on himself, his eyes flashing distressed shades as Z'ia's posture stiffened, turning with a frown as a voice spoke up. Dark green eyes focused on Ellaira as she dropped into a flourished bow. Z'ia's eyebrow arched up, wondering if the woman was mocking the bow he had given Aveleth before feeding him a cinnamon roll. His lips twitched at the question, green eyes dropping slowly from Ellaira's face to the pile of cinnamon rolls in his lap, before looking back up at the woman with sceptical amusement.

"Why would I want to - Hey!"

Z'ia snatched the plate away, rotating his body away from Aveleth; the timid dragon had taken the moment of distraction to inch his head closer, until a quick flick of his tongue transported three of the cinnamon rolls into his jaws. He than quickly shrank back from Z'ia, though his eyes sparkled with his amusement as his human attempted to protect the rest of his hoard, complaining dramatically about dragon spit on his precious cinnamon rolls!

"You can have the ones he spit on," Z'ia told Ellaira, looking up at her innocently and holding up a cinnamon roll, presumably with dragon drool on it. Green eyes sparkled deviously.

Ellaira knew enough about dragons to realize that Aveleth was somewhat uncomfortable with her. Content dragons had eyes of blue and green, and alarm colors were quite obvious. But Z'ia didn't seem unhappy, and if Ellaira had learned anything about dragon pairs, it was that paying attention to both members of the pair was absolutely imperative. So she kept her attention on the blue while keeping her eyes on Z'ia. It was only polite.

The blue's sneaky thievery of cinnamon rolls startled a girlish laugh from Ellaira, who covered her mouth with one hand and grinning in delight. Z'ia certainly was vocal... and the obvious affection between man and dragon belied the dark tales women whispered about him. And he's cute, she thought gleefully. Maybe he's got a dark side, but it's certainly not on show here.

"Oh dear," Ellaira said, eyes gleaming in amusement. She leaned forward and plucked the (presumably spit-damaged) cinnamon roll from Z'ia's hand, in the process probably giving him quite a view down her laced top. "Hmm." She inspected it, nose wrinkling slightly. "Oh look! A clean spot." Ellaira flashed him a grin and bit into the cinnamon roll, closing her eyes and making ecstatic noises. Bite swallowed, she gave Z'ia an arch look.

"As delicious as I suspected, if perhaps flavored a bit with dragon. You must be friendly with the cooks." She waggled her brows at him, then looked back to the cinnamon bun. "Though," Ellaira added with a sigh, "I fear the rest of this bun is unsalvageable. If I may?" She gestured the cinnamon bun towards Aveleth. "I think perhaps only a dragon's stomach can handle dragon spit."

Z'ia watched Ellaira with amusement, his eyebrows arching playfully as she plucked the cinnamon roll from his fingers and examined it. While the view down her top was appreciated, the young rider neither leered nor brought attention to that particular fact, far more interested in her exclamation when she (apparently) found a clean spot. A soft laugh burst from Z'ia's lips, green eyes rolling dramatically.

"Of course!" He replied, looking playfully indignant. Z'ia was very friendly with the cooks, who were mostly proper young ladies who knew they belonged in the kitchen, not dreaming of a dragon! A soft snort was expelled as the woman continued her bemoaning. "Ahh," Z'ia blinked at her polite question, frowning slightly as he turned his gaze towards Aveleth. The young blue looked horrified that attention was now focused on him by both humans, and he shrunk in on himself some, visibly attempting to become invisible.

"No," Z'ia drawled, watching his dragon before putting down the plate and inching closer to the blue, soothing him with gentle pets to the eye-ridge. Aveleth eyed Ellaira mistrustfully from where he was curled in a ball behind Z'ia. Giving the dragon a last stroke over the nose, Z'ia stood up, brushing his arse off as he did so.

"He's not very social," most people knew that, though. Z'ia could be found at any party or social gathering, but his dragon was a trembling ball of blue as soon as he was required to be around anyone new, never mind many people. "Come!" Scooping up the plate, Z'ia wove his arm through the taller woman's and tugged her until she kept pace with him. "There's a tree over here! You can share my snack with me!" Z'ia winked cheerfully as he waved the plate before them both on one hand.

---

Ugh, sorry for such a shitty reply after a long wait ><

Ellaira was stunned at the dragon's reaction to her. She had never seen a dragon visibly recoil away from a friendly human before, and the cinnamon bun nearly dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Ellaira was no stranger to dragons; she'd spent her childhood in a Weyr and her youth in the wilderness with a greenrider and his beautiful Morelkyth. To have a dragon terrified of her... it was a new and terrible experience.

"I'm sorry," she said, almost instantly, as Z'ia went to comfort his dragon. Ellaira averted her eyes and set the cinnamon bun on a bare stone, taking a step back. Lashes down, face turned partially away, she purposefully turned her physical attention away from the dragon. Just like a frightened bird, she told herself, keeping her shoulders relaxed. The back of her neck prickled as she listened to movement. Z'ia stood, and she dared a sidelong glance backward.

"I didn't know," Ellaira replied. It sounded like a poor excuse to her own ears - she, of all people, should know how to behave around a dragon! - but the man didn't seem particularly troubled. In a few moments she was laughing again, as Z'ia hooked his arm through hers and tugged her off. She leaned towards him, bumping up against his side before matching his pace.

The woman regarded him from beneath lowered lashes, shaking off the unhappiness of frightening Aveleth. In the back of her mind, she determined that she would try and befriend the shy dragon over the next turns. It didn't seem as if the Katilan project would end any time soon - perhaps not until Threadfall - and she had time. Ellaira wouldn't let the hurt of rejection hold her down for long.

"Mmmm~" she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, stumbling lightly into Z'ia again and laughing. "What's food without company? I'd love to share!"

Whether Z'ia ignored, or simply didn't hear Ellaira's soft apologies, the bluerider didn't give away. Instead, he focused on steering her away from his timid little dragon, who slipped around the other side of the building, leaping up onto the roof to curl up in the sunshine well out of the reach of other humans. He ignored the piece of cinnamon roll that Ellaira had left on the stone.

Z'ia lead his companion over to the tree, bowing dramatically as he withdrew his arm and indicated she should seat herself. When she had done so, the tiny dragonrider seated himself regally a little off to one side, crossing his legs and resting the plate across them. He examined the pile before him with a great show, before selecting one and delicately picking it up, he offered it to Ellaira.

"Madam!"

Plucking his own, Z'ia chewed thoughtfully on it as his gaze danced over to the sky, watching several dragons drifting through.

Ellaira took a seat on the ground with a flourish, settling herself down so that she could lean against the trunk of the tree. She crossed her ankle to one side and leaned forward, resting her chin on the heels of her palms as Z'ia settled himself. Though of course she had been looking at him before, Ellaira let her eyes sweep his body as he sat, for he wasn't watching her (at least as far as she could tell).

"Why thank you, good sir," Ellaira said with equal aplomb, taking the cinnamon roll and taking a bite off the edge. It was very good - clearly the bakers in the kitchens liked Z'ia quite a bit. It made him a bit of an enigma, that the women of the kitchens would think quite highly of him, while dark murmurings could be heard elsewhere about his character. I wonder what he's really like, she thought, watching him watch dragons, as she chewed her roll. Seems silly that people would be afraid of such a small person. I could probably out-wrestle him!

"Did you really intend to eat all these on your own?" she asked teasingly, cocking one brow at him. "I doubt I could fit more than two in my stomach, and that's on a good day!"

Z’ia grinned, tilting his head back down to meet her gaze, dark green eyes dancing with his amusement. “I planned to!” He replied with enthusiasm, leaning forward conspiringly he dropped his voice to a mocking stage whisper. “Aveleth is a piglet though!” A wicked giggle tumbled free as he used one hand to brush away escaped curls while the dragon in question mumbled softly in the corner of his mind. Z’ia soothed the easily distressed dragon with a small smile touching his lips before filling his mouth with another bite.

“Cinnamon buns are the best,” he added, having swallowed the previous mouthful. Eyebrows arched up curiously, encouraging the girl to state her own opinion on the item of food. Z’ia’s lips twisted slightly, “Much better than that green crap.” A sly sideways glance was given to Ellaira, waiting with amusement to see if the girl would pick up the opening line to make a quip about his lack of height. Most of his growing up had been done with a lonely bluerider who vastly preferred to fill his own stomach than his whining companions. The fact that Z’ia had been lucky to count four feet before the plague was generally left out of the story. It was far more entertaining to blame the bluerider he’d come south with. Z’ia hated him anyway.

“Surely you can stomach more than two!” Z’ia seemed totally scandalised by the mere idea that someone couldn’t eat at least three. Maybe five, or more! Cinnamon buns were amazing. Aveleth mumbled something about Z’ia saving him some, and the little bluerider released a peal of laughter, turning to stare in the direction his dragon was sulking in. “Not likely, Kiddo!” Sniggering, Z’ia took another bite.

"I didn't even know dragons could eat cinnamon rolls until today," Ellaira admitted with a grin and a wink, lifting her bun up in a salute which might have been directed at either man or dragon and taking another bite. "Mmmmm." She closed her eyes in an over-dramatic expression of ecstasy, her pink tongue flicking out to catch a crumb of icing which clung to her lip.

"I don't know about the best," she replied, with an arch look of her own, inspecting the bun as if for a flaw. At Z'ia's next comment, she laughed outright. "I always heard that all sugar and no greens would turn you into a plump duena," Ellaira said, avoiding the easy route of teasing the man about his diminutive height. No doubt he heard it all the time. She spent a moment nibbling at her icing almost delicately and licked her lips again.

"Just how did you escape such a fate?" Ellaira asked, giggling at his protestations at her appetite. "Were I to consume a platter of cinnamon rolls, surely it would go all to my hips! Then what man would look at me again?" She threw the back of her hand to her forehead with a dramatic sigh. "No, I must train my tongue to yearn for the taste of grass."

The woman was a touch startled at Z'ia's outburst, completely missing the fact that he was talking to his dragon, since he'd been staring off toward the dragons earlier in their conversations. She wasn't that funny, or she hadn't thought so. Ellaira smiled and shook her head slightly. "No, not likely. I've spent turns trying, and I haven't managed to shake my fondness for fluff." Ellaira took another healthy bite, thoroughly enjoying both conversation and bun. He's really quite an amusing companion!

Z’ia’s nose scrunched up good naturedly and he shrugged carelessly, not overly worried as he smiled around the cinnamon bun he’d just sunk his teeth into. Making short work of the bite, the young man grinned impishly. “Not good for them,” another shrug was given. “But Aveleth is a sweetheart and they don’t hurt him unless he has too many. Tummy aches and the like.” Z’ia shrugged again. “Not that he ever whines. Had to threaten to never let him even sniff one before we figured out how many he could eat and not puke.” Dragon puke; Now that had been a fun time. Z’ia had thought they only regurgitated leftover rock. Aveleth had made quick work of correcting that belief.

Why would you tell her that? The young blue’s voice was clearly sulking, and Z’ia shook his head lightly to himself, focusing his attention back on Ellaira as he finished another cinnamon roll and attacked yet another fresh one. So delicious! “Probably would,” Z’ia agreed, giving the girl a sly sideways look from under his lashes. “But it takes a lot of energy keeping up with D’hys. Have you seen the length of that man’s legs?” Z’ia had seen a lot more than the length of D’hys’ legs, and knowing the woman was a flight moth, he was inclined to guess she had a fair idea herself. Then again, she was a candidate, and D’hys was hilariously stubborn in his avoidance of candidates. Who knew?

Laughter tumbled free at the comment about hips and grass, the tiny bluerider shaking his head in bemusement. Bloody women and their silly fantasies! As if anyone at Katila were in a position to put on excess weight at any rate. Far too much demand for physical activities to be undergone. Besides, she was a candidate! She wanted to be a dragonrider, she’d be doing a lot more than scrubbing its’ hide! That’d keep her slim. Green eyes sparkled with subtle amusement, but Z’ia made no comment on the trail his thoughts had taken.

She thinks you were speaking to her. Aveleth was amused as he cleared up Z’ia’s sudden confusion, the young blue slipping in casually to peer through his human’s eyes at the woman. Deciding not to correct her, Z’ia sniggered in agreement and started on another cinnamon roll, eating this one slower as he leaned back lazily on one arm. A sly look was tossed her way. “What were you up to, before you decided to attack my stockpile of cinnamon?” Eyebrows arched upward as Z’ia put on a show of suspicion.

"Dragon with a sweet tooth, hmm?" Ellaira grinned. "I'd say Aveleth sounds like my son, except that Ten would quickly self-regulating if he puked." The woman polished off her cinnamon bun and reached over deftly, plucking another off the tray with a sidelong look under her lashes which could only be described as sly - one soon matched by Z'ia, albeit for his own reasons.

"Enough leg to challenge a tree-climber," Ellaira replied with a touch of a smirk. Legs, of course, that any red-blooded woman (or interested man, she supposed) would want to climb, indeed. She didn't recall immediately if he'd been one of her partners in the past; it had been a while since she'd flightmothed, and keeping track of her moth partners was hardly a priority for her. She had other important things to remember. "Though I'm sure chasing a lanky rider is hardly the most... strenuous exercise that your body is subject to." She regarded him under her lashes for a moment in a clearly measuring look, the one of a woman who likes what she sees, and took a bite of her bun.

She laughed at Z'ia's show of suspicion. Ellaira had caught that sly glance - oh, she liked this game. "'Up to'? I'm hurt." Her face betrayed her amusement, lips slightly pursed and eyes dancing. "I was merely avoiding the overly-wrought mourning of my colleagues over that... unfortunate accident." She shrugged, then smiled at him. "I heard your laughter and could not resist. The cinnamon buns were merely a welcome side-effect."

“The sweetest,” Z’ia agreed lightly. He adored his dragon, a fact that was abundantly clear as he spoke about the beast, tone light and cheerful, green eyes dancing with soft affection for the spoiled and often far too timid beast. Z’ia laughed and batted at Ellaira’s hand when she grabbed at another cinnamon, before the tiny bluerider filled his own mouth with another bite. Damn but they were good! Save me some? the words were soft against the edge of Z’ia’s mind and he turned to look in the dragon’s location, though he was out of sight. Okay.

Pulling a fold of cloth from out of a pocket, Z’ia set the plate aside, and spread the cloth before him carefully. Four of the cinnamon rolls were quickly relocated, and Z’ia tied the cloth around them, setting aside the little bundle to his far side with a flash of a grin at Ellaira. “For Aveleth.” Content with his work, Z’ia started on another from the dwindling pile that was left, arching an eyebrow at the description that was given of D’hys. A soft breath of laughter followed and Z’ia nodded slightly. “Hardly,” he agreed with amusement, especially those times he managed to catch the lanky rider in question! Amusement rolled off Z’ia in waves.

“I see,” Z’ia’s tone was upbeat at her explanation, as he cast a wary look in the direction of his dragon, pleased when the beast didn’t respond with a sudden flood of sorrow. He was doing well at blocking the memory and so long as another dragon didn’t come bellowing through reminding him of the tragedy, Aveleth would forget it within another day or so. That would be for the best, his poor tentative little blue! He didn’t cope at all with things like the loss of another dragon… or anything, really. Poor baby.

“Cinnamon rolls fix everything.”

Ugh. That's probably the least Z'ia-inspired post I've ever written lol.

Ellaira polished off her cinnamon bun as Z'ia set aside a set of cinnamon buns for his dragon. "He really does love sugar," she said with a laugh, licking the icing off of her fingers. "Mmmm," Ellaira said, clearly enjoying herself. "Of course, I can see why! Who doesn't love sugar?" The question was entirely rhetorical, of course: everyone (all three, counting Aveleth) in present company were clearly enamored of the stuff.

"Cinnamon rolls are certainly a cure-all," she said with a grin, accepting the change in topic with good cheer. Ellaira glanced up at the sky; time was passing and she did technically have work to do. "Well!" she said. "As I've consumed my quota of twice-pilfered cinnamon buns, I suppose I ought to be off!" Ellaira stood and brushed the dirt off her pants before sweeping Z'ia another bow. "Thank you very much for the delicious repast and conversation. Perhaps I'll see you around again?"

Want to wrap up?

“Indeed!” Z’ia agreed cheerfully, looking up with a grin of his own as he watched the girl with dancing eyes for a moment, clearly amused. Whatever it was that amused him so was not shared, however, and a moment later he was watching Ellaira climb to her feet and dust off her rear. The bluerider bound to his feet as well, still grinning impishly as he swept up Ellaira’s hand, bowing dramatically over it and placing a soft and deceptively chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles.

“Undoubtedly,” Z’ia murmured, allowing the woman to withdraw her hand and using one of his own to haul the tangled mess of his curls off his face. The woman was certainly and interesting creature, though he could feel Aveleth’s distrust on the edge of his mind. Well, that was hardly unusual! “The sweet scent of cinnamon buns is difficult to miss,” a wicked wink was tossed her way, and Z’ia stepped away politely, tugging his shirt down and sweeping his hands over his own arse, before picking up the little bundle of cinnamon treats he had put aside for Aveleth.

Dark green eyes alighted once more on the woman. “I am sure we will cross paths again.” Bowing just slightly, Z’ia excused himself without another word, walking sedately for all of three steps before he took off in a bouncing run to meet up with his dragon.

Sorry about the delays between posts x.x /fail haha <33