Who: Jet, M’tan, Kyramith, Sirhyth
When: Month 2, 205 AT
Where: Hideaway Home, High Reaches Territory
What: Kyramith is soon to rise. M’tan tells Jet what happened with Arlet.
M’tan has not slept separate from Jet since she returned from Hassoun’s clutches. He has never //not// been physically present. It comes as quite a surprise to those who expect his presence at the Court that he’s… noticeably absent from their home for an entire day and night. Sirhyth is not a dragon to fall to gossip nor does he often feel the need to explain his rider’s behavior. However, it’s late enough that it’s near dawn when he finally reaches out to Kyramith. << Jet will kill him. He knows it. He’s ashamed. He won’t come home to it. Meet us at the High Reaches home >> he tells his mate, resigned to his rider’s failures. He’s outside in the cold, choosing to wait for his mate while his rider hides from his own within the warmth of the home they’d created so long ago.
Overnight, Kyramith has begun to glow, the shine brightening her hide in the morning light, and so it takes Jet the additional time involved in packing a bag with enough clothes and supplies to last out in the ‘Reaches for however many days it will be before her lifemate decides to rise, orders given to various staff about the running of the Hold and the care of the children before she’s willing to leave. After landing, Kyramith nudges her nose beneath Sirhyth’s chin and begins to move towards the cave that serves as their weyr, leaving to Jet to first eye the bronze, then look towards the house, off-kilter enough from Kyramith’s influence without the added dread of what she’ll find within. With no way of knowing, she’s got a dagger in her hand when she finally opens the door, determined not to be caught unaware by any additional company, her bag dropped to the floor just inside.
Sirhyth has a low thrum of a croon for his mate when she nudges along his nose. He stands and follows her within, prepared to shelter her beneath his wing should she be in the mood for a snuggle. << Your hide is bright and beautiful. >> he tells her, toying with strands of gray amongst his usual nightscape. M’tan’s on the couch and looks to be wearing the same clothes he left the Court. So rumpled, with a splash of stubble upon an unshaved chin, he looks quite resigned to ‘punishment.’ He looks to Jet and the dagger and sighs. “You’re going to knife me already?” he asks, “so I’m assuming Arlet gave you an earful. I didn’t //mean// it the way it came out. I swear. In my head, the request made perfect sense… once it came out, it did not.” He doesn’t move to defend himself nor stand from the couch.
<< Perhaps I should hope for fog and storms to give you a challenge, >> Kyramith drawls, her own mindscape undergoing the swirls of dust and tremors of impending transformation before she flies. She curls up beneath Sirhyth’s wing and closes her eyes. << Wake me if she murders him. >> Jet blinks at M’tan, locking the door behind her, her confusion plain as she regards the state of him and tries to process what she’s just been told. “…I haven’t spoken to Arlet,” she says slowly, sheathing the dagger. “Sirhyth hasn’t exactly been forthcoming; I didn’t know what I was going to find in here.” She leans back against the door and folds her arms. “But now I think you’re going to have to tell me what went on that’s so bad you don’t seem to think my stabbing you would be unjust.”
<< If she murders him >> Sirhyth sounds resigned to this fact as he sighs and noses his muzzle against her neck, << I will have to follow him Between. It would be nice if you could remind her of that? >> it’s posed as a question, as he has no reason to tell her rider what to do. M’tan scrubs his hands over his face and groans. “I’m not a good father,” he tells her, shaking his head as he drops his hands to his knees with a slap. “I know J’kson and her are traveling everywhere for gambling– and he told //me// that she disappears to do her own thing. I had aimed to have her //spy// but she got defensive. I tried to tell her when Akanyth wins a flight, she could try //talking// to those who end up tangled in the sheets with her.” M’tan turns scarlet as he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “And I think it all came out sounding like I was telling her to bed people for information. Like she was a whore of some kind. And that’s //not// and she… “ he lowers his gaze to Jet, noting the dagger has been sheathed. “It’s not good. Her reaction won’t be good. And when she talks to you, you’ll knife me.”
<< I suppose I could consider that. >> The threat of death cannot be immediate, at least, not for the moment, for Kyramith seems not the least bit concerned that she could lose her own mate owing to her rider’s actions, sleep found only a handful of breaths later. Jet frowns, confusion plain to be read across her features. “…Why would you even talk to her about being in bed with anyone?” she questions. “Whatever’s going on with J’kson is one thing, whether I like it or not, but she’s been used in bed by people of power at at least two Weyrs. Why… Why would you even suggest that? She can’t associate much that’s actually about her or her feelings when she thinks of sex… Why would you think that getting her to use it as a means to an end would be the right thing?” Her brow furrows further. “You said J’kson told you. Have you got J’kson bedding her and keeping you informed about //her//?” That is most definitely more of a demand, her voice and gaze hardening. “She’s hurting. The girl is barely functioning and you thought… How could you ask that of her?”
M’tan looks at his hands and hunches his shoulders as he takes in all that Jet is saying. His redness dissolves into paleness as the full weight of his actions (and words) falls on him. He has no defense, so he offers none. He doesn’t utter a single word as he stares at his hands and eventually he lifts his gaze to stare at the far wall. His jaw clenches and unclenches, leaving a tiny tic to twitch on his paralyzed side. After too much silence has passed he offers Jet an answer to her questions, “I didn’t think my request through,” he tells her, looking towards her. “I was trying to find a way to offer her.., no, nope. I’m not saying any more on it.” He shakes his head. “I fucked up, Jet. I know I did. Even saying sorry for fucking up makes me feel selfish. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Jet waits, refusing to make any effort to help M’tan out of that silence by offering any solace or suggestion. “I haven’t seen Arlet today and no-one has made any mention of her returning, so there’s no knowing if she even plans to come back now,” she says eventually. “Aadi is still in the nursery. Maybe she’ll come back for him, if nothing else.” She pushes away from the door and starts to head for the bedroom, declaring, “You should have told me. You should have at least asked my opinion before approaching her about it.” At the threshold, she pauses, looking him up and down in a predatory fashion. “You get Sirhyth to tell Malynth J’kson’s been recalled. That is the one thing you can do to help here. I want to know where Arlet is and I want to see her the minute we can get out of here.”
M’tan watches Jet move towards the bedroom and remains on the couch. “Sirhyth has told Malynth,” he tells her, “and Malynth says they are still near the Court.” He looks to her and then towards the main door. “I know Kyramith is glowing. I know she’ll go up soon. I’ll understand if you.., don’t want me in the equation for that.” He rubs at his forehead and sighs. “I never was a very smart man,” he mutters, looking towards his hands, where his knuckles still have the odd shape to them from being broken too many times. “I should have kept my hand out of plotting anything. I should’ve asked you before I asked her. It was… a stupid thing to do.” He continues to look at his knuckles.
Jet catches a hand against the doorframe and regards M’tan through a stare that has withered lesser men, just what she thinks of his ‘understanding’ emphasised by the arch of a brow. “You’re my husband and I love you,” she declares, as if to state that the sky is blue. “Right now, I think you’re an idiot, and at this precise moment I’d really quite like to knee you between the legs, but I think we’d both regret that rather soon. You made a stupid decision and yes, I’m not happy with what you did, and I’ll probably be even more pissed with you if and when I speak with Arlet, but you’ll still be my husband and I’ll still love you.” She turns to resume her course, her voice drifting back. “Don’t be an ass and suggest I don’t want you in our bed ever again.”
M’tan rises from the couch as Jet disappears into their bedroom. He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets gazes around their home – a home built long ago. He walks towards the hearth and lets his fingers drift along the mantel, watching as streaks of dust accompany his movements. He doesn’t do anything to clean it, rather he stares at the dust on his fingertips for a long moment. He eventually enters their bedroom to face Jet and whatever may come when Sirhyth rises to catch Kyramith. He won’t continue to profess an apology – he’ll have to prove himself through his actions. That will all have to wait until they head home.