To Remember It

Who: Priska, B’lian, Yedrith, Imahdth
Where: Igen
What: In which they are definitely more than friends.


B’lian and Imahdth are outside of Fort when the bronze reaches for Priska, daring her to follow the quick image he shares with her. It’s of that heat and sand place he’s shown her many times before, used to occupy her mind when she was too adventurous for her own good. He’s settled in the sun outside of the shelter of trees around the small pool where B’lian is resting. His back is tucked against a tree as he watches his bronze against the backdrop of sand. If he knows of Imahdth’s invitation, he doesn’t seem like he’s prepared anything special to host Priska’s arrival at their little getaway.

Yedrith is lounging on her ledge, waiting for Priska to leave the lower caverns, when Imahdth shares that image, which only serves to increase her impatience and provoke her into further needling her rider to hurry up with her tasks and return home. She hardly gives Priska enough time to get her straps on and gather up a small bag of anything that she might want on a journey away from the Weyr before she’s launching into the air to follow the bronze. Between is something that has yet to settle well with the goldrider, almost solely owing to Yedrith’s first trip alone, and though she’s a little pale when she climbs down straps, she otherwise appears fine when she sets eyes on B’lian. “You look… busy…” she drawls, smirking the tiniest bit.

B’lian rises at the approach of Priska. “I see Imahdth is taking measures to make me look silly. I hadn’t known he’d called you.” He moves towards her like he may hug her and then hesitates for a moment, suddenly shy in the approach. He offers her a brief smile and then moves to clasp her hand in his. “This is our special spot. On my rest day, I like to come here to get away from the Weyr and settle my mind. Imahdth loves the hot sands. You’d think he was hatched at Igen instead of Telgar.” He gestures towards the ground he was resting on. “If you don’t mind sitting in the sand, would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t know,” Priska admits, plainly feeling a little silly herself, for a blush creeps across her cheeks. “Yedrith was impatient and made it sound like she’d been called for.” While she casts the queen’s straps onto the Sands, she lifts a narrow-eyed stare to her lifemate, watching her flop down beside Imahdth with a certain smugness and a blue-green gaze. She lets B’lian take her hand, stalling any intention of fleeing that she might have had, and initially only nods to answer his invitation, unable to consider anything in the moment that might make her look more foolish. “I didn’t meant to interrupt,” she says eventually, resigned to how the situation has made her appear, shoulders hunching slightly.

“What were you interrupting?” B’lian asks, looking at her with a lifted brow. “My silence? Don’t be silly,” he adds, moving to sit himself back on the ground. “I didn’t say it was an unpleasant surprise. I’m glad you’re here.” He flicks his fingers through the sandy loam, making a smooth patch for her to sit on. “I believe Yedrith tricked us both with Imahdth’s help. Let the pair of them be smug in their accomplishment,” he drawls as he tips his head back against the tree trunk. “I’m not fussed.” He waits until she joins him and then he reaches his hand to clasp hers with his. “He’s wanted to show her this place for some time, he says. And it suited //him// that she comes now. I’m glad she didn’t mind the journey.” He looks at Priska with a smile. “And I’m glad you came for the adventure of it.”

Carefully, Priska folds herself down onto the ground and leans back against the tree, threading her fingers with B’lian’s. “Maybe it’ll be different when she has a Weyr of her own to look after, but I don’t see Yedrith ever really turning down the opportunity for an adventure,” she says quietly. She drops her head down against his shoulder and closes her eyes. “It’s nice here. I can see why you like it.” One corner of her mouth curves into a tiny smile. “We need to listen out for Hanath; if her clutch starts to hatch, we should be there.” The dry laugh she sighs out is not entirely anything to do with humour. “I think she and Emily are going to try to set me up with my Weyrleader. I’m half certain that it’s Hanath’s grand plan to match up as many people as possible so that she can dote on their babies.”

B’lian’s first instinct is to over analyze the statement Priska shares, though he manages to tamp it down and offer a soft huff of a laugh instead. “Hanath’s fondness for babies makes me anxious for Emily. Soon enough Hanath will be asking her to have a baby, once she sees the reality of one in Isolwyn’s care.” His fingers tighten against hers and his attempt at bypassing seriousness fail him as he adds, quietly, “Your friends are anxious for you to be happy. They clearly love you, and they will miss you.” He tips his head against hers and contents himself in that way until she chooses to break the silence. Imahdth’s tail taps now and again at Yedrith’s side in a playful tickle.

“Maybe they can borrow Isolwyn’s from time to time. I don’t see C’aol trotting around the Weyr with a baby in his arms, and it can’t stay with Isolwyn all day, every day.” Priska wrinkles her nose. “I’m not sure that… Emily even… //likes// people in that way. Though even if she doesn’t, she could always foster, I guess. I never realised so many riders choose not to have anything to do with their own children.” Yedrith has yet to cease growing and is now starting to be more obviously larger than some of the Fortian bronzes. While she hasn’t really bothered taking an interest in that fact, now she does, waiting until Imahdth’s tail taps at her again to abruptly throw her weight against him and make to curl around //him// with the equivalent of a draconic snigger. “I wonder if people in power are ever happy,” Priska eventually murmurs. “Or whether they pretend.”

“Is it possible to not like people… that way?” B’lian asks with a furrowed brow. “I suppose she may not… so, anyway,” he shakes his head, flustered by the idea but bypasses it by focusing on other topics. “It’s true,” he notes with a wry smile, “being Weyr-bred myself. Your parents may love you and care for you, in their way, and yet– it’s the Weyr itself that almost raises you. They still call them ‘weyrbrats’ for a reason. I believe I turned out alright.” He rubs his thumb along her hand idly as they talk. Imahdth’s grunt is followed by a sharp, mental, blast of sand against Yedrith as he booms out a laugh. << Way to make me feel small, Yedrith >> he nudges her back and then when it looks like he’s prepared to shoulder her again, he uses his tail to thwap her rear.

“I can’t say that my parents raised me… but they definitely ‘trained’ me,” Priska says dryly. “I still trusted them, though. That was probably my biggest mistake. I don’t want to be in a position to make my children feel like how my parents have made me feel. Maybe it would be better for the Weyr to raise them, all told.” She smirks and opens her eyes, letting a moment’s laughter free. “You know, my imaginary children. Though I do find it a little odd to think that Yedrith will probably have her own before another year is over. At least I’ll get to see something of how Honshu’s weyrlingmasters work with the clutch they’re soon to have.” Yedrith answers that thwap by draping her neck across Imahdth’s shoulders and just leaning into him, declaring, << Anytime, >> without a hint of repentance.

“You’re supposed to trust your parents and family,” B’lian’s answer may not necessarily be helpful, but it’s clear he believes his words. “I’m sorry they let you down so savagely. I believe,” his thumb stills along her hand as he looks to their dragons, “it was for the best for you. Yedrith is far more than a Hold, no matter how much you were trained to take it over.” He quiets as he listens to the rest of her words and lets the shadow of a smile play along his lips. “Hopefully they will be to your liking and if not, you’ll fire them straight away. I can see you stomping out all the idiots from Honshu in short order once you’re there.” Imahdth’s sigh is only half-resigned as he delights in Yedrith’s draping over him. << You love to make me look silly >> he declares to her as he lets his tail loosely twine with hers. << Don’t you? >>

“I would much rather have Yedrith than that Hold,” Priska agrees quickly enough that it cannot be anything but the truth. “And now I get to choose my family, anyway. More than what it’ll already do, my rank also means no-one can force me into associating with anyone that I no longer wish to tolerate.” She looks up and leans a little closer to B’lian so that she can press her lips to his cheek. “I’ll have to tread carefully with Honshu for a while. Long enough to work out who is residing there so that they can be who they want to be, and who is using it as a haven for incompetence.” Yedrith settles herself more comfortably over Imahdth, finishing the twining of their tails for him. << I’ve decided that it is my new purpose in life, >> she tells him, closing her eyes. << Also, that you are comfortable and I am going to nap. >>

“A haven for incompetence,” B’lian echos with a chuckle. “There are many who have felt that is the way of Honshu for some time. I’m sure it’s gossip talking – and yet, with your guidance, no one will talk like that any longer even if it’s not true.” He tucks his head briefly against hers after her kiss and then he moves from having his hand in hers to drawing his arm about her shoulders. “What’s your favorite flower?” he asks after a lapse into silence. “And color?” He gives no reason to ask other than adding another thought, “There is more to talking between us than dwelling on the past and the future. I don’t care much for flowers and my mother always told me I looked best in the color black so it’s been my favorite since I was little.” Imahdth’s rumble is almost a grumble and yet he says nothing more on the matter. He lets Yedrith nap draped over him as he keeps his gaze around them to mind for any unwanted guests.

“I quite like roses,” Priska replies, tucking her knees close to her chest as she tips herself a little more against B’lian when his arm goes around her. “I’m not sure I have a favourite colour. I like metal and earth tones for dressing in, you know, day to day. And then pastels for dresses. I’m not sure I’ve really thought about it much beyond what I wear… which makes me sound horrifically shallow.” She grins. “When Yedrith stops growing and I can get her a proper set of straps, I’m going to stamp silver stars into them.” Even she has to laugh at how delighted she sounds by the prospect. “What do you like to read? I know you gave me that book… but I figure that was maybe more what you thought I’d like?”

B’lian listens to all of Priska’s answers with a contented smile and seems like he’s tucking each tidbit away as he nods to acknowledge he’s listening. “I think silver stars will look brilliant against the hues of Yedrith’s hide,” he says and brightens at her laughter. “What do I like to read? Well, yes… I did think that book would suit you. I don’t know if it was the sort you’d like or not, to be honest. I enjoyed it.” He does not seem like a book-loving sort and yet he continues, “I tend to like books that have some hero’s journey in them. It’s nice when you don’t know who is the hero or the villain and find that both of them are good at the end, too. I read a lot when I was younger. Being shy… doesn’t make it easy to make friends when you’re young. Back then I //loved// books about a Harper boy who kept getting himself into all sorts of trouble because he was nosy.”

“So… I should be on the lookout for you meaning to be the hero and simultaneously be ready to rescue you if you get yourself caught somewhere you shouldn’t be,” Priska teases, lifting her head to meet his gaze with a smirk. “Got it.” She settles down again, if only so that she can murmur, “I loved the book,” without having to be guarded in her response. “Sometimes, I just need to read to shut other things out of my head. Not bad things… Just everything else.” Without warning, she shifts, rising up onto her knees to settle herself across B’lian’s lap, her hips flush against his. “Now… I wonder, do you like it when the hero has to save a girl in distress, or when the heroine is more than capable of saving him too?”

B’lian is entirely flustered by Priska’s move into his lap and he takes a moment to catch his breath and focus on her face rather than the very suggestive tilt of her hips. “I’ve never believed girls are the ones in distress. Figure it’s the men who usually need the saving.” He clears his throat and looks at her, his hands remaining firmly on the ground beside him. “I’ll give you more books,” he continues, “now that I know you enjoy reading.” She may notice the book that’s been tossed aside since her coming or she may not as he moves to let his hand trace along her cheeks. “Are you going to save me, Priska?” he means it as a tease, though there’s a spark in his gaze – a bit of a challenge offered, “or would you want me to save you?”

“I think,” Priska begins, tilting her head as though terribly deep in thought, “that it’d be remiss of me to leave you here like this and not ensure that you’ve been thoroughly rescued, though I wouldn’t be entirely averse to you returning the favour sometime.” She smirks again, quite unable to help herself as she leans in and murmurs, “We could take turns,” before demanding a kiss in no uncertain terms. Whether she does it deliberately is not entirely clear, put when she plants her hands against the tree, all the better to hold herself above him, she rolls her hips into his and doesn’t make any effort to conceal the sound she makes, only smothering it coincidentally by tracing her mouth along his jaw.

B’lian’s arms move to encircle her as she rolls against him, locking her to stillness as she kisses his jaw that has enough stubble to scrape against lips. “You will have me lose all control,” he accuses her as he kisses her neck and then draws her lips back against his. He loosens his arm from around her so he can rest it on the flat of her stomach and inch it upwards. He waits to make sure Priska does not recoil at his brazen touch as he rests his palm firmly against her breast. He tightens his hold briefly as he kisses her jaw and nips at her ear. “You can save me first,” he murmured against her neck before he moves to cover her lips once more with his.

“Good,” is Priska’s response to thrown accusations, something hungry and predatory lighting her gaze as she sits back enough to make it easier for B’lian to slide his hand as he does, only to lean in again as his palm finds her breast. She makes another one of those sounds as his hold tightens, tipping her head back to allow him better access to her neck, so that when she tells him, “I was hoping you would say that,” it doesn’t sound like half the threat she must have intended, though no less pleased about it. That she is not one for subtlety has ever been clear, and even now she simply runs her fingers down the line of buttons on her shirt to open it, her fingers heading straight for the fastening of his pants not a moment later. She shifts her weight, keeping one hand against the tree while the other encourages him to lift his hips enough that she can tug his pants loose and play in an idle, teasing fashion. “When was the last time you did this outside a flight?” she asks him, just before kissing him again.

B’lian’s more than a little awkward in the face of her wanting to literally shuck his pants off of him. “You are viper fast,” he tells her as he laughs around the act of removing his pants. His willingness to proceed is evident enough as he tosses his pants aside and pulls her back towards him. He lets his lips kiss between her breasts before he gently takes one in his mouth while his hand massages the other. Her question stops him as he tilts his gaze up towards her, “I have not had occasion to be intimate with someone outside of flights for a long time,” he’s somber as he adds, “if I think about it, probably closer to seven or eight.” He tilts his head at her, causing his hair to flop in front of his eyes and give him a far more boyish look. “Does it make you feel… special? To know that it’s been that long?” he is careful in his words and then he draws his hand down along her thigh. “Because you are special, Priska. We needn’t have our first time… this way. We could wait. For a bed, perhaps,” he drawls with a huff of laughter. He eases his fingers up her thigh to explore her desire. “Or we can continue like this.”

Any smart response Priska might have had skitters away when B’lian kisses his way to her chest, her hand hesitating in its idle motion as she curses up at the sky, her eyes closed and lips parted slightly. When he looks up at her, she presses a kiss to his temple, then lifts her hand away from the tree to brush back his hair. “I think… I wanted to know how long it had been since you made your own choice,” she admits, the hand between his legs resuming its teasing. “You may be capable of stopping now, but I don’t think everything agrees with you,” she informs him with a pointed and wicked glance downward. “We could wait. And Yedrith could rise. And Imahdth could catch her. And then neither of us would really remember it.” She sits back for long enough to unbutton her own pants and get herself free of them before she presses herself to him again. “And I want to remember it.”

B’lian smiles at her and doesn’t choose to comment any further. He lets one hand explore Priska newly exposed thighs and further in, his fingers clearly knowing the right places to touch and tease. He takes his other hand and loosely rests it behind her head to guide her towards him so he may kiss her between her need for breath or more. He does not rush to claim her until he is certain she’s found some release. “You’ll remember making love to me in this heated desert,” he drawls as he finally moves to slide her over him, easing himself back so it is his body that will take the brunt of the sand to it. “And know that it was our choosing and not our dragons.” He doesn’t push her to do more than she is willing, his hands moving to rest on her hips to guide her in the encouragement of her movements. Despite his saying it has been some years, it’s clear he’s not going to rush to completion unless she overly encourages him to do so.

Priska keens in-between kisses, unable to offer him anything sensible by way of words, her hands shifting to B’lian’s shoulders, where her fingers curl and her nails dig in without her realising as she gets lost in rocking her hips against his fingers. She drops her head down as her body goes taut, a strangled cry torn from her throat before she half falls into claiming another kiss, telling him, “I think it’s time to… stop claiming you’re shy, you cocky bastard.” She digs her nails into his shoulders again as she sinks down onto him, a satisfied sound rising from her chest when his hands find her hips, and for a while she doesn’t move at all; just closes her eyes and sighs up at the sky. When she does start to move, it’s slowly at first, her gaze intent on his reaction, leisurely trying to figure out what brings him the most pleasure, though she isn’t exactly silent in her appreciation of their moving together. However, she only lasts for so long before her efforts become more brazenly focused on him finding release, hands planting back down against the tree so that she can move faster.

B’lian’s face is easily read and Priska will quickly find the right way to move him towards gasps of pleasure. He takes control from Priska as he finds his end, lifting himself up and her back and forth in a roughened way as he finally finds the end. He lays back with his eyes closed and a smirk on his lips. He tucks his arm behind his head and opens his eyes to look at her. “You can be a cocky bastard and still be shy, you know.” He eases himself from beneath her and laughs as he looks at his back end. “I don’t even want to think where all this sand ends up.” He gives her a challenging look and says, “I’ll beat you to the water.” He doesn’t wait for her to rise and follow when he dashed off and laughingly makes it into the small pool. He drops to his knees as the water only goes up to his thighs. He reclines back in the warm waters and laughs as he waits for her to join him.

“Not fair!” Priska exclaims, slow to try and gather her feet beneath her, while also doing her best to avoid dropping to the sand. When she finally stands, she does her best to try and hide that she remains, quite literally, weak at the knees, walking slowly, only to curse at B’lian again when she finally reaches the pool. “I take back everything nice I’ve ever said about you,” she claims, inching into the water until she can fold her legs beneath her to submerge herself. “Though I look forward to us doing that again in my bed. And maybe in yours.” She sits up to splash water over her face, careful to avoid getting her hair too wet. “And maybe in other places people would find scandalous.”

B’lian sits up as Priska joins him and shucks his hands through his hair to toss it out of his face. He moves closer to her, looking, by the way of his grin, that he might dunk her under to get that hair wet only he restrains himself to sit beside her. “I have to say this is the first time I’ve ever made love in a scandalous way, with my dragon keeping an eye out for us,” B’lian says with a laugh and a shake of his head. “You may fancy storerooms and kitchens,” he sneaks close enough to wrap his arms about her and hall her back against him. “But don’t hold me to being that sort of man. I know no one can hear us here,” he kisses her neck and then her cheek. “And you needn’t think more about it.” His damp hands move to smooth against her face and tuck her hair behind her ears. “This is more than them,” he feels the need to tell her as he looks to their snuggling dragons. “And more than ambition or responsibilities.” He kisses her then, two hands cupping her face. “I hope you know that,” he bumps his forehead against hers and then with a rakish grin, he tips her back to get her hair fully wet. Before she can react, he leaps out of the way, laughing.

The sound Priska makes as she’s tipped back is not exactly a shriek, but more of a yell of outrage as she sits back up, water dripping from the crown she’s braided her hair into. “You are just an asshole!” she shouts, smacking one hand across the surface of the water. “If my Weyrleader is you, I’m going to make sure that you live in a constant state of panic for your life and dignity!” She kicks up a foot to splash at B’lian too. “And, for that, you’re definitely being my pillow tonight, only this time you can play the role without any clothes on!” She folds her arms and glares across at him, tendrils of hair beginning to slip free of the crown. “I might just tell everyone that you’re a conniving so and so and everything else is just an act.”

B’lian’s still laughing as water is splashed his way and he can’t help himself but meet her glare with his mirth. “You’ll dry off fast enough,” he tells her as he rises out of the pool and makes his way back to the copse where he discarded his clothes. He pulls on his shirt and shakes out his pants before he scoots his damp body inside them. He flops back on the sand and reaches for that book he’d discarded at her arrival. He waves it at her. “Come, dress, cuddle. I’ll read to you while you dry. And you can plot my demise if I end up being your Weyrleader. Which, of course, I won’t. So you don’t have to worry about.” He’s completely at his ease and far more open with her than he normally is as he looks at her and waits pointedly for her to join him.

Priska continues to mutter under her breath as she extracts herself from the pool and steps back over to her clothes, not rushing to cover herself in the slightest, for she waits for the heat of the desert to ease some of the water from her skin before she shrugs back into her shirt and steps into her pants. She casts herself back down beside B’lian and then promptly drapes herself over him, leaving him an arm free to support the book, but otherwise doing little to do anything other than employ him as a pillow, just as Yedrith continues to do with Imahdth. It can’t be her intention, but between his warmth and that of their surroundings, she soon drifts off to sleep, completely relaxed against him.

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