As Ever

As Ever

Who: Nala, Aislara, Jynth, Ryerith
When: Month 2, 202 AT
Where: Flight Weyr, Honshu Weyrhold
What: Ryerith rises at Honshu for the first time.

It’s only been four months since Aislara and Nala have settled in at Honshu Weyrhold and taken on the knots of Weyrlingmasters. Aislara has thrown herself into setting up for their future classes, losing herself in the process and often working late into the night and up early in the morning. So focused, Aislara missed the usual telltale signs of Ryerith’s impending rising. New to the Weyrhold and still adjusting to a different draconic dynamic, Ryerith’s proddy period was missed also by the green herself. With little forewarning, Ryerith’s hormones send her rising into the skies above Honshu and calling out to any and all males who may wish to catch her. Aislara’s in a library when her green goes up and somehow (or someone) helps guide her to a room where people gather for flights.

For all intents and purposes, both Nala and Jynth have seemed to lay little claim to their respective mates since their arrival, not playing the part of the possessive or aggressive weyrmate, but simply being very much with the both of them and making little of it. Jynth has even pursued a handful of other greens – winning none of them – though Nala hasn’t been known to let anyone but Aislara take her home. When Ryerith rises, however, there’s next to no subtlety in how Jynth treats the other males, using his bulky build to quite literally block the blues much smaller than him from taking off, casting a wing here and a tail there to foul them before things have even begun. Ryerith is not theirs for the taking. Nala too stares down the riders of those irritated blues, thinking nothing of snarling up into faces red with rage before she lets her focus fall to Jynth and Aislara.

With Jynth new to the mixture of blues and one brown rising, his tactics are not well known and so he may easily get the upper hand on the pack. Ryerith has no intentions of being caught by //any// foreigner, her broadcast a red thrumming warning for them all to stay away. Aislara has not frequented a public space during Ryerith’s flights for some years now and her growing fears about being caught by a stranger are cause for panic. It’s only at the appearance of Nala that she begins to breathe again, her eyes drifting closed. She’s certain //who// will meet her on the bed now. How long Ryerith takes them up for the chase will be determined by Jynth. She’s slowly flirting her way towards him, flitting in and out of the scattering clouds above the Weyrhold in a ploy she has often used with him before. << Come, Jynth. I await. >>

He may have been willing to play dirty on the ground, but Jynth leaves any true injuries to be inflicted upon each other by those others in pursuit, his path after Ryerith graceful and steady for one might assume to be clumsy in the air. << As ever, >> he tells her with a crackle of sapphire electricity, reaching for her with the warm hum of an engine’s inner heat as he pushes up past the clouds and waits for the right moment in which to pluck her from the skies and wrap himself around her. By the time Nala reaches Aislara, she’s far too much Jynth to do more than stake the claim she’s been resisting making so publicly, pinning her against the wall before even considering the bed. She has no shame in shedding her clothes, nor in tugging Aislara’s free before the last of the defeated dragons’ riders has left the weyr, too lost to care what they might think of them. The bed becomes a more comfortably reality soon enough, but not before she’s stripped fabric away from the both of them and made it almost painfully clear that she’s in-charge.

Ryerith folds herself against Jynth, comfortable in his embrace and giving all of herself to him. His electrical hum draws her closer, the mental ribbons and strings she’s grown fond of are twisted and snaked deep inside any mechanical part they might go in that engine. His heat is now her heat. She twines with him and hums her love for all to hear, though her broadcast is far less than any golds, it is louder than some greens. Aislara is as much Ryerith as Nala is Jynth, her attention up in the skies and the pursuit of her dragon. When clothes begin to be ripped off, Aislara can’t help but gasp as she finds herself against that wall. Her hesitation for their potential audience is short lived as it becomes clear where Nala’s demands are taking them. Aislara gives herself freely to Nala, letting her take charge and lead them to a completion that leaves Aislara winded and tear-streaked from joy as she tries to reclaim her mind from her dragon’s.

Maybe Jynth wants everyone to see that Ryerith is his, or maybe he simply wants to make sure that they’re both home and safe, but he doesn’t let the two of them drift far from the Weyrhold, encouraging her back to their ledge, where he curls himself snugly around her and drapes a wing over her to keep her warm, tucking his nose against the curve of her neck. Nala lies on her front beside Aislara, one hand still clenched in the sheets beneath her, though as Jynth relaxes and begins to drift towards sleep, she lets out a quiet sigh and slumps down properly, turning just enough to curl herself around her weyrmate. “…We’re staying at home next time,” she murmurs roughly, hooking an arm around Aislara’s middle. “Whether he wins or not. The Weyrlady didn’t entertain other bronzeriders beyond her mate. You don’t have to either.”

“I didn’t intend to come here,” Aislara’s response is groggy and hoarse, her voice having been put to good use expressing her enthusiasm for her weyrmate’s love-making. Her brain is not fully settled away from Ryerith’s as she curls into Nala, the two of them easily mirroring their dragons on that ledge. She stretches languidly beside Nala and heaves a contented sigh. “These sheets are awful,” she complains once she’s more fully present in her own body. “I don’t want to think too much about who else has been in them of late.” Her nose wrinkles as she tips her head up to press her lips to Nala’s jaw. “I like that she did that,” Aislara comments of their new Weyrlady. “It was honest and true. Why do we have to give ourselves to our dragon’s riders? The argument can be made it could make someone suffer.. But they can have a replacement, can’t they?” She snuggles against Nala.

“Not saying you did,” Nala murmurs, tipping her chin up as lips press to her jaw, securing her other arm around Aislara’s waist as she tips onto her side and noses against her neck. “If another bonus of moving here is that we get to tell weyrlings that they do not have to give themselves to a stranger once their dragon is grown, all the better. The leadership can hardly change the precedent they’ve set now. One rule for goldriders and another for the rest… it would not make them the liberal diplomats they claim to be.” For a few moments, she busies herself with nothing more than edging her lips along Aislara’s shoulder, a hand anchoring itself at one hip. “I thought I’d been quite well behaved and not felt the need to destroy anyone who looks twice at you. Until today.” She must be teasing, her voice warm with something close to laughter, as rare as it is from her.

“People are looking at the scars, not at me,” Aislara’s murmur is distracted by Nala’s lips against her shoulder and her hand on her hip. “Nothing more than morbid curiosity on their part.” It is the same denial she has given Nala over and over throughout their time together – people look at //scars//, she isn’t //pretty//. She smiles in response to that touch of laughter in Nala’s tone. “I like that you seek to destroy people,” she confesses, curling her leg around Nala’s to hook her even closer. “It makes me feel safe. It always has.” That admission reminds her of something and she sighs as her hand presses into her forehead. “I think I’ll need clothes before we can leave here. I remember ripping.”

“If they //are// looking at your scars, then they’re still looking at you and //you// are beautiful,” Nala declares, contentedly tangling her legs with Aislara’s and humming a soft note against her neck. “I think you should go out in a bed sheet and nothing more. Obviously draped low and pinned high.” She nips at the curve of her ear next, letting her hand shift from her hip to wander up along her ribs. “I’ll buy you new clothes,” she promises. “Only fair, since I vanquished them. And I’ll get you a dress and new shoes and ribbons and make everyone man and woman for miles jealous that you’re on my arm.” Smirking, she muses, “I don’t suppose you know how we’re going to get some clothes unless we ask someone to raid our wardrobe?”

Aislara doesn’t continue denying her looks knowing how Nala can be on the subject, her smile amused as she stretches her toes against the sheets and contents herself in Nala’s embrace. “I don’t need new clothes,” she protests, poking at Nala’s cheek. “We’ve brought plenty. And it sounds like you’d much prefer I walk around beside you in a sheet anyway. So why waste our money?” She laughs at her own joke, flicking a finger through her sweat-soaked hair. She shifts upwards, letting the sheet fall and expose the scars along her side – as well as her pert breasts. She frowns at the discarded, ruined, clothes that scatter the floor. “I wish I’d trained my firelizards to be more dependable. They could’ve done it.” She puffs out a breath in thought and glances towards Nala. “Maybe there’s enough to make //one// of us decent enough to fetch clothes?”

Nala makes a low sound of protest when Aislara sits up, though then contents herself with tracing idle patterns across the small of her back. “Even ripped, my clothes would likely cover more of you than they would of me right now,” she proposes, seemingly in no hurry to move. “Give it a try? You could tie the ends of either shirt up enough for it to look deliberate and presentable.” As for her? She angles another smirk up at her weyrmate and rolls onto her back, continuing to demonstrate no interest in getting up from the bed herself. “Take your time,” she says, oh so magnanimously. “I’m happy to watch.” She doesn’t bother covering herself with the sheet, but lies there with one arm flung over her head and a lazy, arrogant smile curving her lips.

“Is this so you get the chance to see me naked or to see me wear your halfway decent clothing?” Aislara asks with a sly smile and and a chuckle as she slides out of the bed. She walks towards the discarded clothes and begins to dig through them, picking up and assessing each article as she goes. Eventually she’s able to pull on Nala’s shirt and belt it over her waist to try and keep her somewhat decent. Too much skin is still easily shown when she moves but it’s a start. Her pants are still decent enough to pull on. She turns and faces Nala, tilting her head as she spreads her arms out. “Decent enough?” she asks.

“I always get to see you naked,” Nala drawls, stretching both arms over her head now. “Wearing my halfway decent clothing? A little rarer.” She doesn’t take her eyes off Aislara as she picks her way through articles of clothing and eventually manages to throw together an ensemble that maintains modesty, her stare turning rather predatory by the time she wears her shirt – or possessive. “I think you had better go and fetch some clothes before I tear everything right back off of you again,” she warns, rolling onto her front. “Not that I can promise not to do so when you return.” She says nothing more to send Aislara off, and nor does she manage to keep the promise she couldn’t make, for she pounces on her upon her return and strips her back down to make her cry out her name to the ceiling. Eventually, she let her leave bed. Eventually.

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