We Can’t Stay Here

Who: Aerishani and O’rlen
Where: Aerishani’s Weyr, Honshu Weyrhold
What: Consideration of where to live, if not at a Weyr(hold).

Some of the rumours that do the rounds of Honshu are exaggerated and others are quite true, and when word goes round the caverns that Aerishani and O’rlen have barely left the weyr they used to share for three days, it happens to be the latter and not the former. It’s the longest time they’ve spent together in months, and even Amorenth’s deep rooted anger at what she knows her rider intends to do has eased enough with Roreliuth’s presence that she is not completely cold and inconsolable when others reach for her. In the early light, Aerishani drifts between asleep and awake, lying on her side to look over at her husband in her waking moments, sheets left tangled somewhere around her middle, any chill something that doesn’t quite register. “…We can’t stay here,” she murmurs without knowing it. “Amorenth has turns of rising left…”

O’rlen’s been soundly asleep even with Aerishani’s stirring at his side. He doesn’t seem like he’s even awake enough to hear Aerishani’s comment until he drawls, “Where would we go?” He shifts on his side after he lets a loud yawn escape. He opens his eyes and smiles at her, moving his hands to carefully reach and tuck the blankets about Aerishani. “I enjoy that lovely view in the morning,” he tells her, letting his hands linger against her chest, “but you shouldn’t let the chill settle into your bones this early in the morning.” He props his head up with his hand and considers Aerishani as his fingers play along her cheek before he pushes hair behind her ear. “I ruined Honshu for Amorenth,” he has to say it, pain lacing his tone, and guilt shadowing his eyes. “You could let her be flown by another… and we could remain this way. I would stay your husband, even if I cannot stay Honshu’s Weyrleader.”

Aerishani snuggles down into the blankets as O’rlen lifts them over her, silent for long moments as he speaks of Amorenth and makes his proposal. Eventually, she gives a tiny shake of her head and curls her knees towards her chest. “I have no credibility as Weyrlady,” she says quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. “Even if others might think I do… I don’t believe it.” Just //why// she avoids admitting, just like she keeps her eyes averted as another few seconds elapse. “I don’t know that Amorenth would accept another mate, besides. Roreliuth is the only dragon she lets near her for any length of time. And I highly doubt that any of the Northern Weyrs would be willing to overlook her lack of interest in her clutches or her anti-social nature.” Inching closer to him, she lifts a hand to let her fingers card through his hair. “I’m not interested in retaining power. I never wanted it in the first place. I just want us again. Our sons.” Her focus flits away again. “…Maybe a daughter.” She twitches a shoulder. “The rest, I can live without.”

O’rlen’s eyes remain focused on Aerishani as she speaks, the reality of their situation settling over him with a wave of noticeable relief. “Your leadership brought us together, I feel. Had Roreliuth and Amorenth not…, well. Who is to say what might have become of us?” He moves to draw her towards him, wanting to tuck her against his chest so he can take his turn with playing his fingers through her hair. “The question becomes – where will we go? We could do as Lady Silverifled has done and claim dragons and Hold both..,” his chest rumbles with laughter, “only we’d have to find such a place to claim. We could ask R’byn if we could join Southern…,” he sighs, stilling his fingers in her hair. “The answer is not one I can clearly see. A daughter,” he agrees as he kisses the top of Aerishani’s hair, “will be easily gotten if we keep up in the manner we have these last few days.”

Settling herself against O’rlen’s chest, Aerishani throws an arm over him and closes her eyes, tilting her hips to rest against one of his. “…We could ask if Silverfield would take us in,” she quietly supposes, apparently in all seriousness. “Request the use of Southern’s Sands when Amorenth rises. If I officially retire, the Hall can make use of me in my capacity as a Journeyman more plainly and have me posted to a Hold like any other. I wouldn’t like to suggest that it would be calling in a favour, but we kept Zinovia and Yukijiath safe until they were ready to leave, even stood party to the negotiation of that awful contract with C’aol. If not for our support, there’s no telling whether the Conclave would have let her keep her Hold.” She lifts her head to touch a kiss to the underside of his chin. “I don’t intend on moving far from this bed today either.”

“I’ll send letters to Lady Silverfield and the Harper Hall to enquire as to whether they would find such an arrangement agreeable, if you’ll visit Southern to ask after the use of their Sands in our times of need?” Aerishani suggests, idly nosing her way along her husband’s collarbone. “If all find it agreeable… Then I suppose we ought to inform the Council. If it weren’t for them being likely to wade in to stop Rori becoming Weyrlady, I’d propose it was none of their business, but making a quiet exit feels like an unlikely event.” She shifts her weight, planting her arms down on either side of O’rlen’s head to look down at him with a tiny, almost predatory smirk. “I’ll let you go and get some breakfast when you’ve thoroughly woken me up,” she informs him, the declaration of which earns her a distant huff from Amorenth, who pretends to be most long-suffering as she tucks her head back against her mate and drapes her tail over him to let the rest of the Weyrhold become a pale and insignificant thing.

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