Who: Aerishani, O’rlen, Amorenth, Roreliuth
When: Month 7, 203 AT
Where: Weyrlady’s Room, Honshu Weyrhold
What: Amorenth Flies for the third time
With Inaskashath surely due to rise soon, when Amorenth finally starts to properly glow to match the distant chill of her temper, Aerishani makes it an order that Rori and Mersia take their queens away immediately, not willing to risk any conflict between her fearsome queen and her daughters. The move is one that only serves to better focus bronze and brown attention on Amorenth, something neither of them seem to want, for Honshu’s senior spends her hours snapping at males who roam too near, going to far as to pin down a bronze who thinks to try his luck and get too close as she sleeps. The flash of rage is one that takes over Aerishani too quickly for her to fight it, her office turned upside down in a matter of moments. Lucky for that bronze, Amorenth chooses not to spill his blood, but that of the beasts in the pens, her rider leaving behind her own scene of chaos to make her way back to her weyr.
Roreliuth has kept his distance from Amorenth, watching from the fireheights only so recently vacated by Daeserath’s looming presence. He does not fight those browns and bronzes stupid enough to bother Amorenth, knowing full well his queens wrath would deter any unwanted advances. His head is angled on his forepaws as he drowses in the sun when that stupid bronze Gorath decided to sneak up alongside Amorenth. He’s in a near dream state when Amorenth drops into the pens to blood a beast. He drops down idly, letting the other males fight for the best beast to fell and fling around in roars of fury. He stays to the side, claiming what he needs to sustain his flight, and awaits Amorenth’s launch into the sky. O’rlen’s waiting within their weyr, tense and ready as he watches the door for Aerishani’s entrance. Once she steps through the threshold, he moves to close the door and lock it behind her.
When O’rlen locks the door, Aerishani’s focus sharpens, not on him, but on that door, too much of Amorenth’s need for freedom flickering beneath the surface before she manages to fight it down, closing her eyes to try and centre herself and stop her queen from felling what will be her fifth herdbeast just for the primal delight of seeing blood run. No bite of meat has passed through Amorenth’s jaws, no intervention from her rider needed, but there’s no sign of the bloodletting stopping until some distant command reminds her to drink and not make only make herself a frightening sight with gloves of crimson and trails of scarlet edging her wings. She drinks perhaps two of the carcasses dry, then abruptly charges for Gorath again, this time inflicting damage sure to scar, only to discard him just like those beasts and launch skywards. Aerishani seizes the front of O’rlen’s shirt, fingers curling in a motion akin to claws, eyes searching and not entirely seeing, even as she drags him down to kiss her.
Roreliuth leaps into the air after Amorenth, his bugle of challenge finally issued to those males that rise up with him. He keeps his claws tucked in close, his eyes roaming through the bronze brown hides that filter in around him. His wings are sure and steady as they beat against the wind, altitude gained the hard way, until he catches a thermal updraft and banks into it to circle higher and let others continue a manual chase for Amorenth. His mental reach extends towards her, the crispness of autumn, the fresh damp smell of soil after a rain. He tap, tap, taps so gently on her walls, seeking entry to broadcast his love more directly. O’rlen’s eyes flicker as he adjusts to a shared focus, half of him in the sky, the other of him on the ground. He falls into Aerishani’s grasp, letting her lead him wherever she wants to go. His lips are rough against hers as his arms move to steady him against the back of the door as he tucks her in against his body.
Amorenth has quite a problem, in that she both does and does not want to be caught and captured, a tangle of biology and pride demanding that she fly far and high enough to ensure that only the strongest or only her choice (or both) will be the one to twine with her. And Amorenth’s problems are Aerishani’s problems too, for, while there’s much she would demand from her husband, there’s also that lingering need to be free and make him work for it. She lets him have his kisses, but when he moves to tuck her close to him, she draws back with a low growl to echo Amorenth’s roar of defiance, even Roreliuth denied as the queen pushes through the clouds. The browns who have dared to challenge Amorenth begin to drop away, yet she still determinedly continues her upward climb, bronzes starting to peel away and dive down too. As her wings begin to burn, striations appear in her silver walls, Roreliuth’s the mental touch that she instinctively reaches for, making Aerishani tilt her head and regard O’rlen anew. “Mine,” she murmurs. “Another daughter. Our legacy. My mate.” Amorenth, of course, shares none of this, but her wings conveniently falter as her rider surrenders now, instead of attacking.
Roreliuth’s worked his way outside of the pack, having sacrificed the rush that would have had him nipping at Amorenth’s tail to steadily gain altitude behind them all. He twists into the clouds and begins to strain his wings as he barely acknowledges those dropping back to the ground around him. He’s above Amorenth when those striations work their way into those silver walls. He pushes at them now, a hard wind blustering through a grove of trees as it plummets against the walls. He’s here. Open up. He drops from above and reaches his claws out finally to grab at shoulders and twist Amorenth into his grasp. “Mine,” O’rlen’s lips are rough against Aerishani’s as he claims her, his grip tightening on her as he drags her away from the wall and towards a couch. As Roreliuth twines with Amorenth, O’rlen loses all sense of himself. He tastes and touches and has needs that are guided outside of his awareness, so caught up in his bronze’s mind that he’s lost to all reason.
Amorenth is not one to go sweetly, no matter how much she may want to be caught, and while she twists to try and wrench herself free and hisses at Roreliuth, she also twines her tail tightly with his and folds her wings, letting him take control of their descent. It must be that as she’s matured beyond her first years that her mental capabilities have continued to develop, for there’s no escaping her presence once those walls are down, any but the completely dragon deaf held in the thrall of her love for her mate, though of course she will later pretend for all others that she is a completely independent creature. Perhaps it won’t be until sunrise that Honshu begins to function again and people start to think of more than the bedroom. Aerishani certainly doesn’t know anything beyond her queen’s needs and pleasure, and her own driving need for her husband, clothes pulled free and nails leaving crescent marks in their wake, that it is a couch and not their bed that they do their own twining on something beyond her grasp. Her voice is rough, a hand tangled tightly in O’rlen’s hair, by the time a still blood-stained Amorenth weaves tail and neck with Roreliuth’s and settles to sleep at the edge of one of the Weyrhold’s fields.
It takes longer than it usually does for O’rlen’s mind to be reclaimed by him, lingering ties to Roreliuth leaving him spent and content to wrap Aerishani in his arms and hold her close as his bronze winds himself about his queen. Once Roreliuth drifts into dreamless sleep, O’rlen stirs and groans against Aerishani’s neck. He muffles a yawn in the curls of her hair. “We won’t hear the end of this,” he tells her, lean legs stretching out as he shifts to his back and puffs the pillow behind his head. “I’m sure everyone even remotely nearby had to pull over and satisfy… certain needs, with how loud she was.” He turns a boyish grin at Aerishani, “If we weren’t in our own quarters, I’d assume everyone would’ve heard how loud //we// were too.” He draws her close to him again, not wanting to put so much space between them. “I love you, wife.”
Aerishani just about remembers who she is when O’rlen groans, the sound making her absently arch against him before she unwinds her legs from around his waist and lazily stretches. “I’ll make sure that we’ve got lots of records pages blank for all the autumn babies…” she murmurs quite dryly, a small smile curving one corner of her lips. “People can say what they like. They’re a strong pair and a good match.” She rolls onto her side to tuck herself in against him when he draws her nearer, hands seeking skin with a faintly needy edge both echoes of the flight and her own desire to be close to him. “Like we are,” she drawls, tipping her head back to seek out a kiss. “I love you too, husband. Weyrlord.” Her smile turns sharp, amusement defining her smirk. “I’m sure I should be mortified by how much she shared, but I can’t bring myself to be. I’d probably have let you do as you pleased with me even if we weren’t in here.”
“That is how a Weyrhold or Weyr should be run. Two of the strongest dragons leading, giving the strongest clutches, and the strongest dragons, and so hopefully, the strongest minded people,” O’rlen muses, his fingers idly brushing up and down her exposed spine. “And we,” he notes her smirk with a quirk of a grin, “Show through our love of each other, how to be strong leaders. We’re a good match. Even if you’re a Harper spy and I’m a no account stable hand turned bronzerider,” he’s laughing as he finishes with one of the favorite complaints about their origins. “Now that C’aol’s moved on from here, if only for a time, things should settle out. We’ll have a calm clutching and Amorenth may show her strength again by giving us yet another gold.” He kisses Aerishani’s cheek. “So long as we don’t make twins to accompany that gold. I’m not ready to be a father again so soon.”
“If we ever have twins again, I’m choosing to blame you, as is entirely my prerogative. I’m sure it can’t be my fault.” For all she manages to deliver her declaration deadpan, Aerishani ruins it by letting her lips twitch into another smile. “Not that I’d send them back for anything in the world.” She slides an leg between O’rlen’s and closes her eyes, settling her head over his heart. “I’ll go Between in the morning, if you like. I can’t say that I have strong feelings about it either way.” A soft sigh heralds her own heart finally settling back into a slower rhythm, her body pliant against his. “Though I do have strong feelings about not speaking to or seeing another soul until tomorrow. We should make sure that there are absolutely no lingering influences to distract us from our duties before we get back to work after all.”
“We aren’t returning to work at all,” O’rlen declares as he lifts her to the side of him so he can stand. He stretches his arms overhead, showing whatever marks of passion Aerishani’s left on his body without care. He reaches for her hand, kissing her palm before he draws her up and out of the bed with him. “Let’s bathe and relax the rest of the day. I want to have you to myself uninterrupted today.” He draws her close to claim a kiss, his hands drifting down towards her rear to pinch her playfully. His smile draws itself across her mouth before he pulls from their kiss. The Weyrhold can get used to us taking our time after Amorenth’s flights. Let’s not rush back to anything.” He shoos her into the bathing chamber, where he draws a warm bath, adding favorite oils and bath salts into the large pool before he draws Aerishani into the water with him. There’ll be plenty of time for knowing hands to find their way around her body, his need for her ever present. It’ll be at least two more times before O’rlen’s finally exhausted enough to give in to sleep, his body curving around Aerishani as a mirror to his dragon’s protective claim on Amorenth.