Who: Aerishani, O’rlen, Amorenth, Roreliuth
When: Month 10, 200 AT
Where: Weyrlady’s Weyr, Honshu Weyr
What: A somewhat lazy morning.
As the weeks have gone by, Amorenth has finally started to fill out and look like she will indeed produce a clutch, which has allayed Aerishani’s fears somewhat, if begun to aggravate the queen herself, irritated by her changing figure and a certain lack of grace that goes along with it as she tries to adjust. At least growing eggs is hard work and leaves her apt to sleep more often and for longer than she usually might, Amorenth presently curled up on her ledge in the morning sun. In the weyr down the stairs from ledge and wallow, Aerishani is just stirring, the large bed she purchased both owing to move into said weyr and that she might no longer be the only one in it leaving more than enough space for she and O’rlen to claim their own, yet she’s curled herself up against him in her sleep and now sends gentle fingers wandering across his chest.
Roreliuth has been a constant shadow to Amorenth, whether his attention to her is welcome or not – he’s there. He’s not the jealous or territorial sort, so his intentions are always to be available to her needs. That O’rlen tends to follow similar behaviors with his Weyrlady has not gone beyond the bronzerider, though when questioned about it by friends he laughs it off and shrugs with a smile that continues to show the world he is absolutely smitten with Aerishani. He’s been awake for some time now but has been loathe to leave the bed. As Aerishani’s wander across his chest he turns to look at her with a sleepy, satisfied smile. “Are we ready to face the day today?” he asks, stretching his long legs out beneath the sheets before he flings them off of his body.
For one who has rarely tolerated males, Amorenth has taken little issue with Roreliuth’s presence, accepting him more as a matter of course than anything else, which is to say in a far cooler manner than Aerishani’s response to O’rlen, but perhaps to be expected. What the goldrider isn’t expecting is for sheets to be flung, leading them to be gathered to her while she ducks her shoulders and almost her whole head beneath them, the loose curls of her hair rolling across the pillow as she shakes her head and insists, “No. Warm. Staying here.” Her hold on those sheets is fierce, even as she peeps up over the top of them to peer across at O’rlen. “Traitor.”
O’rlen twists over Aerishani, holding himself above her to playfully tug at those sheets she’s gripping at. “No, no, not a traitor,” he teases, tugging and tugging until he can fling the entire sheet away from her. “Devious, maybe,” he laughs as he moves to kiss flesh that might feel the chill in the air. “Traitor? No. I’ll go get the bath going,” he tells her before he claims her lips and eases out of the bed to make his way towards their bathing room. When she does join him, Aerishani will find the large tub steaming from hot water, slick with scented oils, and O’reln already claiming more than half of the tub with his large body.
“Traitor!” is an overdramatic howl from Aerishani’s wounded dignity as she lies there sprawled on her front, having grabbed determinedly at the sheet until fingertips lost their hold and she melted back to the mattress to shiver there. She doesn’t begrudge O’rlen his kiss, yet she growls into it and stubbornly stays where she is as he moves off, curling into a ball to try and preserve body heat that all too soon evaporates into nothing. Soon, however, the cold, or the appeal of the bath – or the appeal of O’rlen //in// the bath – gets the better of her and she rolls herself over the side of the bed and up onto her feet to pad after him. “You don’t play fair,” she accuses with mock severity, stepping into the water and right back into his personal space to lean back against him. “And you’re alarmingly chirpy in the morning.”
“I had brothers growing up,” O’rlen tells her, settling her against him and moving to brush his lips against the nape of her neck. “I blame them for my teasing ways. And you have to be a morning person in the beastcraft. Animals wait for no one when it’s time to calve or eat.” He tries to make amends for his waking her by grabbing a handful of soap to begin to work at scrubbing her back. His fingers are strong and he works at any muscular knots he finds in the process. “With Amorenth clearly displaying signs of her impending clutch, have some of your fears been calmed? I know you’re feeling a lot of pressure but I don’t know how much to help. I’ve told C’aol he can stay on as Weyrsecond,” he shares, smoothing his fingers along her shoulder blades. “Because I think it might help with the transition. If he fucks it up… I’ll transfer him.”
“I’m an only one. I guess that explains some of my… solitary tendencies.” Outside of work, O’rlen does seem to be one of the few people Aerishani chooses to spend time with. She’s soothed to silence by the work of his hands, her head tipping back towards the ceiling as she lets herself focus on little else for a few moments, until he mentions Amorenth. “You don’t need to do anything more to help,” she says softly, turning to look back at him and claim a kiss. “Maybe I’ll worry every time she flies. Maybe it’s what queenriders do. But… I thought we’d be alone in this and you’ve made it clear that we’re not.” Turning around again, she absently smoothes her fingers over one of his knees and lower. “If C’aol touches me, I’m aiming my knee at an area he won’t appreciate,” she warns. “You’re right, though. As long as he does intend to //aid//.” Silence defines her for a short while as she bites down on her lip and lets her other hand wander up his thigh. “Speaking of touching me… Would you take me Between? I, uh… I don’t think either of us are ready for a little redhead running around? I don’t really want to take Amorenth Between right now.”
O’rlen smooths his hands along her shoulders and down her arms, using the excuse to grasp her fingers in his and tuck them in against Aerishani’s chest as he listens to her. He kisses at her cheek before he releases her hands, seeking to smooth his fingers down along her chest and ribcage in such a fashion to be a touch scandalous but also clearly trying to be //purposeful// in cleaning her. “I’ll take you Between,” he assures her, “My mother was a crafter and it isn’t fair to saddle you with our children if you’re ill-prepared. I don’t expect that at you.” He nips at her ear, letting his hands drift below the water. “But you’d make beautiful babies…,” he trails off as his fingers seek to distract her.
“We have a duty to Honshu first, for now.” It would sound more convincing were Aerishani not to sigh and tip her head back as fingers roam across her chest, though she tries to maintain her self control and not be more vocally encouraging as O’rlen’s hands slip lower, despite being unable to quite stay still. “Let’s deal with Amorenth and Roreliuth’s babies,” she tells the ceiling. “Then, if you still…” starts to betray some of the lingering fears she voiced after the flight, only she doesn’t get to finish sharing them, arching back against him as his hands slip below the water. “…Then maybe we can make our own babies… It’ll probably happen anyway, unless we learn not to touch each other…” Nails dig into his thigh as she turns her head to demand a kiss.
O’rlen’s answer is a pleased chuckle as he makes Aerishani pause in sharing her worries. He answers her demand for a kiss, not detouring from his pursuits below the water. Only when he’s satisfied that //she’s// satisfied does he return his hands topside to grab for more soap to work into her hair. “There will always be time for babies. I’m not going to have them until I’ve had enough of you to myself,” he tells her, kissing her softly on the neck. “This thing that’s between us has only just started… I want to keep you for myself for as long as possible. But if you want children — I’ll be more than willing to help make them and tend to them.”
It’s a little difficult to tell whether Aerishani’s soft sigh of relief is owing to, well, relief, or the understanding that she’s not immediately expected to follow Amorenth into producing offspring. She’s been quiet at the mercy of O’rlen’s hands, pleading only very gently with her head dropped back against his shoulder, and now she’s much the same – quiet and satisfied and sleepy, if once again completely unmotivated to do anything but stay in the warm and within easy reach of him. She even manages to be faintly disgruntled about his trying to be helpful with her hair, making a low sound in her throat when she can’t just lean there against him. “I suppose… I figured I’d never have any. Or that no-one would want any with me.” Same difference. “Is… is it normal? That we… can’t keep our hands off each other?”
“Why wouldn’t someone want to build a family with you?” O’rlen’s genuinely surprised by that statement from Aerishani. “You’re smart, beautiful – kind, caring. The list goes on. You’re one of those dream goldriders. You’re not pretentious or rude.” He huffs, perhaps prepared to fight whomever said such things about her. His fingers are gentle against her scalp and he makes short work of lathering up her red locks. He piles the sudsy locks on the top of her head so that she can dip it under the water whenever it suits her. “Dunno if it’s normal by the standards other people live by. But I //like// that I can’t get enough of you and you can’t get enough of me.” He’s all smiles and glinting humor. “It’s every man’s dream to have a gorgeous woman ready to tumble him at every opportunity.”
“Because I Impressed Amorenth and became a Fortian spy in the same day.” She makes it sound so simple. Aerishani chooses that moment to duck her head down into the water and resurface, the waves of her long hair straightened out by the weight of it. “In your opinion I’m those things, but you’re just the tiniest bit biased.” Turning herself about to face him, she settles her hands on O’rlen’s shoulders and gives him a small, sweet smile. “To a lot of people? I’m a nightmare waiting to happen. If you listen to them, I’m keeping you nice and docile by chaining you to my bed.” Her chosen metaphor gives her pause and makes that smile turn faintly sharper. “Might not be a bad idea…” Still, she leans in to supply a kiss and murmurs, “I need a caring, handsome, dedicated man to save my black soul.”
O’rlen’s brow furrows as he listens to Aerishani’s take on the rumors circulating about them. “What people tell me is I’m clearly lucky to have such a wonderful, willing, beautiful Weyrwoman,” he tells her, likely //his// interpretation of all the rumors going about their clearly forming romantic relationship. He curls his arms about her and tucks her in close as she kisses him, deepening it and letting his hands tighten at her flesh. “I’m dedicated to you,” he promises her, opening her eyes and making eye contact with her. “And there’s not a bit of black to your soul at all.” The rest of the bath will be spent with the conversation steered to the mundane tasks ahead of them and if O’rlen takes her back to bed before they dress… that was only to be expected.