Who: Isolwyn and C’aol
Where: Weyrleader’s Weyr, Fort’s Weyr
What: Isolwyn steals C’aol’s bed.
Though nights are spent in her bed more often than not, apparently that particular bed is not good enough for Isolwyn’s napping purposes this afternoon. No, today she’s opted not for her own weyr, but to slip into C’aol’s and curl up in his bed, blankets and furs drawn around her and all the pillows nestled against her at different angles. She’s not bothered to get undressed or even to get changed at all, the time that would have been spent doing so plainly dedicated to rearranging the bedding to her satisfaction before settling down to sleep. Even asleep, she looks pleased with herself, it being //his// bed seeming to make all the difference, or maybe it’s just that she looks comfortable and peaceful.
C’aol’s spent most of the morning in his office, discussing changes being made to the wings with his wingleaders. He finally finds time in the day to go home, intent on spending at least an hour in the quiet of his own weyr. He moves through his rooms without acknowledging (or knowing) that someone else has come to call. He goes into his bedroom to change into a more comfortable pair of pants and shirt only to pause in the doorway to find Isolwyn in his bed. With no one else around, and Isolwyn asleep, he sets his shoulder to the doorframe and watches her doze with a softness overcoming his face and a small smile tugging at his lips. Not wanting to wake her, he moves to leave the bedroom and then thinks better of going. He turns back, kicking off his boots, and climbs into the bed beside her. He draws his arms around her and snuggles his nose against the back of her neck. If she doesn’t stir, he likely will take a nap beside her.
A soft, content sigh escapes Isolwyn as C’aol wraps his arms around her, yet she shows no further signs of waking and sleeps on for a little over half an hour before her eyes lift open and the realisation that she’s no longer alone drifts to the surface of her mind. Slowly and carefully, she shifts in his arms, turning to draw her own around him and nose along his jaw. “Hello, my love,” she murmurs, sleepy-edged. “How long do you think we can stay here before someone needs one or both of us?” Her lips curve in a soft smile as she nudges a kiss against his cheek. “Did the Wingleaders have much to say for themselves?”
C’aol has always been a light sleeper and Isolwyn’s stirrings wakes him easily. He offers her a smile for her kiss and then gently tucks some of her hair out of her face. “You can stay here as long as you want. Emily is more than capable of handling your affairs if you require the sleep,” he tells her, without going into any detail why he knows she may be extra tired. “The newest wingsecond of Juniper Wing informed U’nsand that the bluerider who was punished for that idiot girl’s pregnancy was not the only one to have danced with her,” he drawls, eyes sharp. “B’lian, the transfer from Telgar? Apparently has already found out more about his Wing than his own leader. I was not pleased. Other than that, it was business as usual. A few transfer requests to other wings to sort out and one request for retirement.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll see everyone else in two weeks,” Isolwyn answers dryly, snuggling down into C’aol’s embrace. “I don’t want to take advantage of Emily’s willingness to work hard,” is her more serious consideration. “She’s already agreed to take on Priska’s training, even though I’ll be meeting with and monitoring her. It wouldn’t be right to expect more of her; to exploit someone’s competency and ability would be poor form.” She arches a brow at the news of the wrong man being punished, features settling into stern lines. “It may have been quite obvious that she intended to fall pregnant, but to further manipulate those involved… I don’t see that we have an obligation to her if her intent was to be destructive. Eosyth said she saw Yedrith with that Telgar bronze the other day. She was… conflicted about it.”
C’aol seems pleased by Isolwyn’s answer, lines of approval settling as he lets his smile linger before he finally tucks it away behind a sterner expression. His hand remains resting on her hip, idly drumming along her body with his fingers as he listens to her speak further on the incident he brought to light. “Who was conflicted? Yedrith? Daeserath has finally relented on his permanency at the Weyr. He’s not in one of his worst tempers, anyway,” he adds with a smirk, “It’s a wonder he didn’t argue against us training the Court’s young dragons.” He pauses, letting his fingers settle from their tapping. “I think B’lian has some potential I have not seen in our current bronzeriders. I’m keeping my eye on him. Let me know what you think of him as well.”
“Eosyth. I’m not sure that she liked the idea of her daughter so close to a grown and technically foreign bronze when she tells me she’s not seen Yedrith engaged so much with her siblings.” Isolwyn lets a hand slide down to capture the fingers at her hip and makes to twine them with hers. “Maybe some of Daeserath’s… concerns… have become her own,” she utters dryly, letting the faintest smirk claim her lips for an instant. “If Yedrith spends time with his bronze, perhaps Priska will tell me of B’lian. I only hope that his decision to transfer here had very little to do with their being a gold egg on our Sands at the time.”
“To ease your concerns on his timing, I’ll tell you that is not the case. He requested a transfer here before Eosyth rose. I took some time to consider his application and when Eosyth began to glow, I tabled his request and focused on Fort. Now that the eggs have hatched and we’ve released the Court’s dragons back to them, I felt prepared to allow a foreigner here.” He draws his fingers up along her side and briefly rests the palm of his hand against her face. “I hope not much of Daeserath rubs off on Eosyth. If they both will plague the entire Weyr with their tempers we may have people requesting to transfer //out// of this Weyr.” He lets his hand fall back and then turns onto his back, moving his focus from Isolwyn’s face to the ceiling above them.
Isolwyn lets her eyes fall closed again, taking a breath as she does her best to get to the heart of what she means to say. “I think… that whatever Daeserath is made of, Eosyth is made of too, deep down,” she murmurs. “He embraces it and she keeps it in her shadow, but like calls to like.” Rather than look over at C’aol, she too opts to lift her gaze to the ceiling. “I don’t think it can be by accident that they met long before they ever actually set eyes on each other. He may have his temper and she may like dealing with the abstract more than the immediate, but together they’re unstoppable.”
“Like does call to like,” C’aol agrees as he keeps his focus upwards to the ceiling. “They are unstoppable,” he agrees as he turns his face to consider her profile. “As we are. I am not a man who places much weight to matters of ‘fate’… only, there are many occasions I fall to thinking that is what brought us together.” He moves to rest his hand briefly against her stomach, calculated in that gesture before he eases it back to his chest. “I’ve informed my wingleaders that I expect all brown and bronzeriders to apply themselves to the task of becoming leaders in some capacity were they to want to chase after golds here. I won’t require everyone to be a wingleader or ‘second. I want to know that our riders are fit for their positions even if they are only wingriders. Otherwise, they will be barred from goldflights. This bronzerider whom is a part of this pregnancy scandal is a good way to nail the point home. He will be barred from future goldflights at Fort until I deem it otherwise.”
For a moment, Isolwyn lets her hand drift down to cover C’aol’s, motion made without comment but for a faint smile, then she shifts onto her side to rest her head on his shoulder. “I think fate is as good a thing as any, and I confess to much preferring this to whatever else it seemed it had planned,” she says softly. On the subject of bronze and brownriders, she wonders, “Would it be too harsh a thing to bar him from greenflights too? He’s shown himself to be lacking the ability to consider consequences. I wouldn’t put it past him to have his bronze go chasing a lot of greens simply because he ‘can’.” She touches her lips to the curve of his shoulder. “Hanath will undoubtedly rise soon. I told Emily I would take Vesoviath and Safiye away, as we’ve no way of knowing how she might react.”
“I’ll bar him from them,” C’aol answers without hesitation, “for a period of time. I won’t do so indefinitely as it would be unfair to his bronze. As for goldflights, he has proved he is unable to uphold our standards and as such he will not be permitted to chase them either at Fort or elsewhere while he resides at Fort.” He smirks, angling his face back towards the ceiling. “He may try to transfer over such restraints. I will deny them until I am satisfied that he learned a lesson.” C’aol has never been one to punish lightly and from the glint in his eye when he turns his face back to Isolwyn, the bronzerider is set to a painful future. “Hanath rising soon is good for our Weyr. Emily has proved herself to be a reliable woman. I hope that she is prepared for the event? She seems…, rather innocent,” he considers Isolwyn and then once more looks to the ceiling. “Has Vesoviath taken herself Between yet?”
“I didn’t feel it was my place to ask her if she’s slept with anyone, but she tells me that she has no particular attachment to anyone at the moment, which makes me wonder.” Isolwyn closes her eyes again and hikes the blankets a little higher. “Though she did ask if I fell in love with you because of Eosyth and Daeserath.” She hesitates, only to admit, “…I told her that I didn’t know when it happened, except that I knew it wasn’t because of them, which might have been a tiny lie.” Before she can be misunderstood, she murmurs, “The knowing when, I mean. I think… after I was attacked… and you put me in your shirt and your bed and I woke up and you were wrapped around me… That was when, not that I knew it.” It seems half-instinctive, burrowing into the blankets to hide the colour that tints her cheeks. “Vesoviath can Between as well as any of our other dragons,” is a little bit muffled.
Mention of the attack tightens C’aol’s features and stills his body from moving. He lets her speak around it without comment, choosing not to linger on the subject lest she seems in need of discussing it. C’aol watches out of the corner of his eye as Isolwyn tucks herself beneath blankets with a twitch of his lips that he doesn’t stop from forming a thin smile. “I do not know how one goes about quantifying love or knowing ‘when’ it is formed. It’s not as if I have loved freely enough to know when it hits me. It is enough to know that I love you,” he says as he eases up to sit in the bed. He does nothing but rest a hand on the area of her head to encourage her out from the blankets.
“It was when I knew something was different. Different enough that I understood something I hadn’t before.” Isolwyn props her head against C’aol’s thigh, though she still keeps the blankets tucked beneath her chin. “I didn’t know that you were going to turn me into a fanciful embarrassment of a woman, and this I lay firmly at your feet for you to deny all you wish. It is entirely your responsibility.” She turns, rolling onto her back to peer up at the ceiling for a few moments before she reluctantly casts the blankets aside and sits up. “We should go and see to the afternoon’s work,” she sighs, smothering a yawn. Gathering her skirts, she twists at the waist to press a kiss to his cheek. “You should be advised that I’ll be back to claim this bed later.”
“Is my bed truly that more comfortable? I had not considered it to be any different,” C’aol drawls in the wake of comment and kiss. He rises and turns around the bed to offer her his hand. He holds it as she rises and moves to tuck it in the crook of his elbow. “Afternoon meetings are always a joy,” he adds, as he pauses to brush a few curls of Isolwyn’s in a neater arrangement on her head. “I’ve got an audience with a few Holders who want to discuss limiting their tithe,” his smile is sharp-edged and his eyes sharper. “I will be most entertained when I tell them no.” He pats her hand and kisses her cheek. “Freshen up here if you like. Let me know if you’d like me to tell Emily to handle your afternoon so you can rest more.”
“It’s comfortable because it’s yours and I’m hoping I’ll find you in it again when I return,” Isolwyn declares, both as if it makes absolutely perfect sense and with the lightest touch of wryness to acknowledge that it probably means nothing to anyone but her. Lifting up onto her toes, she briefly touches her forehead to C’aol’s and murmurs, “Go and show them who’s in charge,” with a predatory smile. She parts from his side to head towards the bathroom, saying, “I’ll be okay. It’s a game of strategy and I’m not going to lose.” And she doesn’t – at least, not today. But she does return in the evening to shed her clothes and crawl back into the blanket nest she left behind, there to await her mate. Even if she is asleep by the time he’s home.