Who: Jet, M’tan, Kyramith, Sirhyth
When: Month 12, 202 AT
Where: Court of Shadows, Honshu Territory
What: Of expansions to the Hold.
Being grounded does not suit Kyramith at all, but, despite their shared frustration, neither she nor Jet is stupid enough to risk flight and further damage to her wings or the opening of other wounds inflicted upon her by blue claws. Still, Jet somehow manages to keep pulling on the strings that she wishes to, communicating with the Harper Hall and the Harper she’s ‘selected’ as most suitable for their purposes until Fort is minus one Journeyman and the Court finds itself with its first, official crafter. She’s spent the afternoon showing them around and introducing first Safiye, then Khyrisan to their new teacher, even though the latter is some years off needing one. By the time evening arrives, it’s been a long day of talking and paperwork, and, as soon as she reaches her and M’tan’s quarters, she doesn’t get any further than just lying back on the bed. Even if she wished to move, it’s made all the more difficult by the arrival of her half a dozen firelizards, who tuck themselves around and in against her as if she’s a completely harmless soul.
Sirhyth’s anger has not tempered in the coming days since Kyramith’s injury. He has forced M’tan to do countless sweeps of their Reachian home, eyes and mental shadows cast out to find the culprits of his mates injury. They return today, Sirhyth triumphant bugle announcing his victory. They have been //found// and punished. The bronze does not seek out his mate after dropping off M’tan, choosing to circle their Hold and the area beyond to make his presence known. M’tan heads into their quarters to shred clothing and find a bath. Once he’s through the door and sees Jet on their bed with the firelizards, he has nothing to offer but his radiant and crooked smile. He hangs up his riding gear, kicks off his boots, and heads towards the bed with his own firelizards popping from Between to land on his shoulders, his outstretched arm, and the various furniture they may be inclined to relax upon. “We’ve got quite a life here, don’t we?” he asks of Jet as he perches on the edge of the bed and rubs his forefinger along Sugar’s neck as Fickle grumbles on his shoulder. “We found the Reachian dragons,” he tells Jet, looking up from petting Sugar to make eye contact with Jet. “Sirhyth made his claim //clear//. I talked to the riders. We may… have an opportunity to add more dragonriders to this Hold if you’re willing.”
Kyramith has been doing her best to do as suggested by the healer who saw her, sleeping much of the time while her cooling unit tempers the air around her to her preferred, lower temperature. She’s on the cusp of consciousness when Sirhyth returns, her focus drawn to him and news of his victory, lunar light spilling from her mind and to his. She’s not one to fawn, nor to distract him from his purpose, though she makes sure that he knows where she is for when he should return. The youngest of the firelizard fair has earned herself a no more dignified name than Queenie, yet she has firmly established herself as //queen// thus with as much – and more – right to Jet’s affections as the bronzes she’s been bonded to the longest, and now she lies curled up on the greenrider’s chest, right across her heart, well and truly staking her claim. “If we let anyone from the outside into our quarters, they’d think we’ve gone soft,” Jet utters dryly, making no effort to move from beneath her firelizard blanket, save to reach a hand to catch at one of M’tan’s. “What did they have to say for themselves?” she questions. “…I’m not sure how Kyramith will react if you mean that blue. At least, while she remembers. If other riders can be useful and make sure their dragons understand that our hierarchy doesn’t start with gold, but bronze and green, I’m willing to entertain the idea.”
“The blue’s rider is young and clearly fresh out of weyrlinghood. It would be up to Kyramith if she could tolerate them, of course. I’m not necessarily sold on the idea of them moving //here//,” he notes, looking at Jet and Queenie resting so comfortably on her chest. “But perhaps an outlying area? They are nothing more than runaways,” he admits with a rueful smile and a shrug. “Chomping at the bit of Fort and Telgar, surprisingly. Unfortunately, none were crafters by trade prior to Impressing dragons. They’re living in the mountains, hunting and gathering. The riders looked… a little worn out, but unwilling to return home.” He rubs a hand along his jaw, contemplating his earlier enthusiasm. “If they already don’t like the old ways, why wouldn’t they know we are Lord and Lady here? Green and bronze rule?” He shrugs, looking about their room. “No one need know we’re soft,” he tells her with a laugh, “Especially once rumor begins to circulate of how ‘evil’ we can be to those we don’t like.” Sirhyth eventually satisfies his sweeps and returns to Kyramith’s side, sharing with her the information M’tan is sharing with Jet. His shadows are swirling, excited, little creatures that are hopping all over Kyramith’s lunar expanse. << I made the blue submit to me >> he tells her, << not unlike a gold. He //cowered// he //apologized// he will never try such stunts again. >>
“…She might be able to tolerate him working //for// her, but I doubt she’s going to be willing to have him in her vicinity on a regular basis,” Jet says slowly, idly running her fingertips along the trailing edges of Inferno’s wingsails. “I can’t say that I’m… happy… for them and those others to suffer, though I’m not…” She hesitates, blinking up at the ceiling as she tries to work through what she means. “I don’t know whether it’s me or Kyramith, but I don’t want to see them right now. Maybe in time… It isn’t that I mean that we shouldn’t do something for them. But… for now, if you deal with them, I’ll deal with the staff here while we’re grounded.” Dark eyes dart back to M’tan to try and gauge his reaction. Kyramith lifts her head and runs her nose along the underside of Sirhyth’s chin, giving a low warble as she curls in against him. << He took the skies from me, >> is bitter and heated, despite her best efforts to maintain a logical order to her feelings on the matter. << He should be afraid. He should have apologised. I am //glad// he was scared. >>
“So it’s time we branch out from our central Hold and establish another location to maintain some aspects of our ‘court’ that we don’t want privy to where and how and what we do day to day,” M’tan muses, not at all bothered by Jet’s reasoning, taking it in stride as he does and thinking immediately to other options. “I’ll look around High Reaches for any other options for a third location,” he offers, looking to her, “and so keep them North of us. We don’t have to have everyone //here//,” he agrees and then he reaches forward to clasp Jet’s hand. “I should’ve thought harder about it all. My apologies to you and Kyramith. I can see where it was in ill-taste that Sirhyth and me were… so quick to forgive.” Sirhyth rumbles, the creatures screeching as they slow their joyful romp to slide into one giant mass of shadow that snarls loudly. << He will apologize to you when it is the right time. For now they are not welcome near you >>
Jet inclines her head a little, shifting to lie on her side with Queenie tucked against her ribs, the others drifting off to find perches around the room that keep her in their line of sight. “Southern Boll might be a good place to look,” she suggests. “North, but not so north that they might feel out of our reach.” She tightens her hold on M’tan’s hand, lacing her fingers through his. “You have nothing to apologise for,” she insists. “I’m glad that one of us is better at forgiveness. If it was just down to me, I’d be alienating people all over the planet. I don’t… //like// people. I can’t trust them. It’s good that you’re more willing to give chances than I am.” The quirk of her lips is not quite a smirk. “I speak better with blades and fire.” The rattle of earth answers the snarling of shadows, contained to that and nothing more, the ground not permitted to crack while Kyramith exerts control over her desire for vengeance. << You did well. I would have no other protect me when I need it. >>
“It would be an easier living in Southern Boll compared to Reaches,” M’tan notes with a snort of laughter. “Why they didn’t move on from the mountains in the first place is beyond me. I enjoy visiting, but I’d never want to live there long term.” He brushes his fingers along her cheek, smiling at her mention of blades and fire. “You’re suited to those blades,” he tells her, “And I wouldn’t want you to like every person out there. Maybe you’d find someone you liked better than a silly Thief,” he tells her with a quirked grin. He stretches his feet out and wriggles his toes, leaning back on the bed with his arms braced behind him. Fickle hisses her complaint from his shoulder and vaults herself up to one of the many perches that are located around the bedroom to appease their creatures. Sirhyth curls himself gently about Kyramith, careful of her wounds, and begins to share his day with her in a series of mental images – avoiding the time he spent in the company of those //other// males.
It may start out as a light, warm response, but it only takes the course of that single syllable for Jet’s reply to become nothing but serious, her, “Never,” delivered with an edge of possessive heat. Queenie is lucky to be awake and able to scramble herself out of the way and into flight when Jet shifts to take advantage of just how conveniently M’tan has settled himself for pouncing. Between flights and having so many firelizards in their bedchamber at any one time, she cares little for the fact that they have a vaguely interested audience when she moves to pin him to their bed and slowly shed her clothes before divesting him of his, unwilling to even consider thinking beyond the limits of said bed until they’re too exhausted to do anything but lounge in the sheets and let thoughts and ideas drift between them in murmurs that echo the images shared between their lifemates. And the advantage of having a Hold and staff? If one doesn’t want to leave the bedroom for necessities such as food, one doesn’t have to.