Zahava and N'thei have an atypical morning after.
RL Date: 10/13/07
IC Date: 10/22/13 (The day after Ciath's Flight.)
The afternoon is well-advanced by the time Secath is seen depositing N'thei on the bowl beneath her ledge. Whatever has transpired between N'thei and Persie does not seem to have ended equably, for the bronzerider departs her company with a stilted wave of farewell. From there, hands jammed into his pockets, he wheels and starts across the distance of the bowl with quick steps, his long afternoon shadow preceding him. In passing, one or two people milling in the bowl take stock of the big, unfamiliar bronzerider, but he's not wearing his most approachable expression this afternoon, and no one goes out of their way for a hello-there.
Zahava slips lightly down the myriad steps that make up the levels of the Junior Queen's ledges, glancing up occasionally to check the faces in the bowl to see if she can spot the man she's supposed to meet before he arrives. At last, her eyes settle on N'thei, bringing a pause as she recognizes it, then hurried steps to reach the bowl floor ahead of him. She lifts her chin slightly, clasping her hands behind her back as she waits for him to reach her.
At the same moment N'thei catches a look at Zahava, his demeanor changes entirely. He even smiles though, with the sun behind him and the yellow shadows of autumn veiling his face, it's hard to see if the smile touches his eyes at all. Just beyond normal earshot, he cups one hand around the edge of his mouth to lend distance to a hearty greeting; "Good afternoon, miss." Then, with a few quick jogs, he's caught up to the goldrider, looms a polite three feet away. "Sorry for the delay. Life, you know. N'thei." And he extends a big mitt for handshaking.
Zahava's head tilts to the side as she looks at the man, her expression a little uncertain at the apparently friendly greeting. She extends a slim hand to take his, studying him for just a beat more before offering a reply. "Not a problem in the least," she replies, her voice husky, much like a solely audible version of Ciath's. "Zahava," she adds. "It's... good to meet you properly." A hint of color rises into her cheeks at the words.
N'thei briefly encloses Zahava's hands in both of his, a perfunctory handshake made just a little more friendly, then nods in a hearty way. "Isn't it." Repocketing his hands now that they're of no further social value, he looks over Zahava's head toward the doings at this end of the bowl, all the while wearing a smile of a wholly pleasant variety. "So, with the social niceties out of the way, where can I leave some clean socks and a toothbrush should the need arise?"
Zahava's lips twist in a slightly uneven, wry smile as she turns slightly towards the stairs that lead up to the gold ledges. "We can do better than that," she says. "Once of the weyrs is set aside for visiting clutch sires. I've replaced all the linens and made sure everything is ready for someone to make use of it - we've not had a visiting clutch sire since Sareith of Telgar flew Faldaverth more than seven turns ago." She clears her throat, pausing a beat, then shakes her head slightly. "Shall I show you the way?" she offers, waving a hand up the stairs.
"Ah well. Then it's a rare honor for Wyaeth indeed, isn't it." A twinge of inflections renders all N'thei's questions rhetorical. With an undue amount of space spared for Zahava to proceed him up the stairs, the bronzerider answers almost eagerly; "By all means, lead the way. Though you didn't have to go to all that for it. With things the way they are, I hardly foresee spending that much time away from the Reaches."
Zahava takes a step before glancing over her shoulder. "That is up to you and Wyaeth, of course," she replies. "But I hope you'll find it convenient to spend some time here, especially once the eggs are on the sands." She starts up the stairs, adding after a beat, "I know how disruptive it can be to go visiting a place without a care in the world, and then wake up with everything different and new responsibilities that one may never have wanted."
The smile can still be heard in N'thei's voice even with Zahava's back turned to him; "Do you. Good, then at least we're on the same page on this one." Thumping up the stairs behind her, taking pauses now and then so as to neither catch up nor overtake the goldrider, he chats with apparent ease. "I at least owe it to Wyaeth to see the eggs and maybe shake hands with a few of the people who'll Impress them. Beyond that-- with this erratic 'fall, with things the way they are between the Reaches and Crom... Your weyr's over here, hm?"
Zahava heads up the ramp towards the Queens' Ledges.
Zahava has left.
You head up the ramp towards the Queens' Ledges.
With the bronzerider behind her, Zahava's expression is invisible, but she moves up the next few steps without responding. "Mine is the middle ledge," she says, off-hand, waving a hand in its general direction. "Fort has spared two dragons to other Weyrs in recent turns - Wrencath was even one of the Assistant Weyrlingmasters for my clutch when Nabrimeth clutched and he moved temporarily to High Reaches. My class graduated not long before P'draig had to move to Ista for Nalaieth's clutch. Wyaeth is out of Wrencath and Nabrimeth, isn't he?" she asks, finally glancing back at him.
"Indeed he is. I can't say that I got to know S'kris beyond a man hanging around here and there, but it's nice to be returning a favor in a roundabout way." N'thei returns the backward glance with a quick smile at Zahava, bright but brief. "Good of Fort to lend out its riders left and right, isn't it? I'm sure that High Reaches will be plenty charitable in return. But that will be up to Wyaeth and me, as you say. I'll make sure Satiet's aware that I was received with the utmost hospitality, of course."
Zahava steps to the side of the turning to the guest ledge, waving her hand up the stairs to the ledge. "After you," she invites with a somewhat tight smile. "This ledge and weyr is yours as much as you choose for the next few months."
You head into the Guest's Ledge.
Clutchsire's Weyr and Ledge
A large pair of caverns has been lovingly hewn into the rock wall of the bowl. The first, by far the larger, holds the dragon's couch, fully large enough for two full-sized dragons, even bronze and gold, to lay together. The stone is padded and covered by thick hide to give it the luxury of cushining. A niche in the corner holds a pair barrels for sand and oil, while a set of shelves above them hold an array of cloths and brushes. Nearby a rack is hung for straps and riding gear to be stowed.
Through a woolen curtain is the second cavern. Still generously large, it has a cozy wall, covered in rich tapestries that keep the chill Fortian nights at bay. A large, freshly-made, four-poster bed takes up a portion of the space, a thic, ovine-skin rug tucked up against the side. A fire crackles on the hearth in the cold months whenever a guest is present. Before the hearth is a neat little trio of two chairs and a comfortable loveseat arranged around another thick, woven rug. A table against the wall has two chairs and doubles as a desk, while a large wardrobe near the bed provides both vertical space for hanging garments and several deep drawers for folded items.
Through another, thinner curtain is the bathing chamber, constant hot water circulating in and out of the deep pool, refreshing it. The rest of the small room is comfortable, thick rugs underfoot. Vents overhead and a stove work together to keep the air from being too damp. Fluffed towels and buckets of sweetsand sit on shelves near the pool.
Zahava enters the Guest's Ledge.
Zahava has arrived.
N'thei steps in like it's a hotel room, interested but impersonal. He passes Zahava with a still polite, still bright smile that hasn't so much as flickered all this while. "Very nice. I'd feel a little like Wyaeth and I were just rattling around in here, too big, but very nice. Private bath, even. It's certainly going to make my own weyr seem a little spartan by comparison." He meanders around, drags a hand across fresh-made sheets, then looks back to Zahava pleasantly; "Good of you to have it all made up, miss."
Zahava follows him into the weyr, waving a hand towards a basket of fruit set on the table. "I've a friend at Ista who's been sending over a lot of fruit lately. If you aren't fond of fruit, we can put them in the living cavern. There's a caverns girl who'll come every day to make the bed, she'll also replenish the supplies in the bathing chamber and change the linens and towels, empty the trash basket and take away any plates or things you might bring from the living cavern," she says, her eyes skipping around the space to make sure everything is in order. She glances back to N'thei, and continues with, "There's no need for 'miss' - you can call me Zahava, if you like."
N'thei's eyes follow the wave to the fruit, and they brighten once again; "Good to have friends in tropical places. I'll figure out something to do with all that fruit, don't worry." At her latter comment, even while he's springing a hip against the edge of the bed to test it, or maybe just to have something to do, he cracks the first grin that seems laced with something other than pure pleasantness. "I think I'll stick with 'miss' for a while yet. Consider it a consolation prize for a bruised ego. Don't take it personally." The last tacked on humbly.
Zahava winces, her eyes lowering to the floor for a beat as the color rises once more into her cheeks. She clears her throat, running a hand through her short hair before lifting her eyes. "Very well," she allows lighty. "If there is... anything that would make the time you do spend here more comfortable, please don't hesitate to let me know."
"That wasn't meant to make you feel bad." N'thei sounds earnest, but why else would someone say something like that in the first place? "It is what it is, hmn? I'm sure I'll avail myself of your hospitality now and then, but don't worry overmuch. Does Ciath care one way or the other?" Smoothing the sheets where he'd been leaning just a moment ago, he decides the bedpost might be a more suitable location for leaning, arms crossed and tranquil eyes rested on Zahava.
Zahava tilts her head to the side slightly, then her slender shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "I'm not sure. She seems pleased that he's here, now. I've no idea what to expect in all this. Ciath's never risen before. She's fairly independent - didn't tell me at all that she was going to go up, though now she tells me she knew a few days before." There is a soft exhale that suggests a dry laugh. "I don't know if she'll be one of the ones who hardly pays attention to her eggs, or never leaves them."
N'thei gives the post behind him a doubtful look as it gives a partial inch against his leaning weight, his shoulder repositioned so that it gives again but a little less this time. "Someone said something about that, about her being a fair bit too old for this to be her first Flight, but it's all a little distorted in memory. Any rate, Wyaeth is the type to gloat. He hasn't had a chance to crow over Nikoth yet, so we'll have to get that out of the way. Then I expect we'll be back and forth enough to refresh his vanity."
Zahava's lips press together a little, and then she nods. "Just a little. She's not yet four. It's around the right time for an Interval." She lets her weight shift onto one foot, hip cocking out slightly. "Who is Nikoth?" she wonders, curious.
N'thei grins in a winning way, not far from charming when he's not forcing an unfelt cheer; "But it's not exactly an Interval now, is it. Certainly makes it hard to determine who's keeping apace of things." To Zahava's question, he lifts his brows then cocks an ear in her direction, mming mildly. "A'son's bronze. We Impressed together. You must know how these things go."
Zahava hmms thoughtfully. "My two bronze clutchmates are one anothers' best friends," she remarks. "But T'aren and S'kris can't stand one another, and I don't think K'len and V'delin are very fond of each other, either, so it can go a number of ways, I suppose, depending on the people."
"And A'son would probably be my 'best friend' if I were tied down and told to pick one. That doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy him being taken down a few notches." N'thei smiles at the thought of it, a fond looking smile that suits him well, and then he's straightened up a little. "Do you mind if I ask-- she fed, not just blooded. Why?"
Zahava winces a little at the question, her eyes lifting towards the stone overhead. "I don't know how it is with the males, but I don't remember much from weyrlinghood telling the riders of the male dragons to be so careful about getting them to blood only. With her... She's never been so violently uncontrollable. Stubborn, certainly, and insistant, but never so overpoweringly /wild/. They said she would be hard to control, that I'd have to work to make her blood, but I wasn't expecting it to be that hard, and it caught me off-guard."
N'thei starts, "But isn't--" That thought never gets finished, just ends with him filing his lip with his teeth. "All that matters in the end is that you managed to rein her in, hmn? Could have been an atrocious Flight otherwise." He raises his eyebrows again, contemplating the dodged bullet, then drags together another smile for Zahava; "So now for the next uncomfortable question. Why did you leave? Was it so awful? Because, if so, I need to know. Obviously, I'll have some things to work on."
Zahava flushes, her eyes skipping to his face for a beat and then away. "No, it wasn't you... it was everything. I... am not someone who likes to be out of control, least of all of something so... personal. I am sure that if I had been there of my own, premeditated, choice, I would have been well-pleased with the... experience, and I would have stayed. I just... was overwhelmed by /everything/, when I woke up."
N'thei laughs ruefully, a short chuckle mostly through his nose. "I am not someone who likes to be kicked in the teeth. Somehow, my not-someone and your not-someone created a very rude awakening." He leans partially, tilts his head in an attempt to keep a better look at Zahava's face for all the darting of her eyes. "I'm not a bad person, but we've gotten off to a very bad start." Another laugh later, he amends, "Well, a very good start, but not so good immediately after that."
Zahava clears her throat, her grey-green eyes lifting again to N'thei's face, openly, despite the flush in her cheeks. "I apologize. It wasn't my intention to... kick you in the teeth, but it was... selfish of me to flee. I can only plead complete lack of experience with such things, and apologize for it."
Wryly, "And you think I've got a wealth of experience here?" N'thei snorts unprettily, head shaking meanwhile. "But you've apologized and done is done, so. I don't suppose we even have to be friendly, when you really get down to it. I'm sorry to put you through the wringer for it. My prowess has just never been so sharply questioned before." He clicks off a wink, then straightens from the bedpost, one arm dragged around it to bend it back the right way a mite.
"I would rather be friendly," Zahava says simply. "But no, it's not required, as you say." She laces her fingers together for a moment, thumbs fidgeting. "Well, I should get back to my audit of the clothing stores," she says after a beat.
"I can't say that I'm envious of your task." N'thei ruffs his shirt collar blandly, straightens it so the button rests more appropriately at the hollow of his throat. "Can I walk you down the steps or..." His grin returns, flush with a rogue's charm. "Is that something so... personal?" There's a pointed mirror of Zahava's inflection a few moments ago.
Zahava can't help the rueful laugh, a dip of her chin acknowledging the hit. "I'd be happy for the company down the steps," she says gracefully, turning slightly towards the ledge, her eyes staying on N'thei as she moves, to see if he will come with her.
N'thei's coming with her, though nothing so stately as the offer of an arm. It's just his oversized company out from the ledge and down the steps, the conversation from his side dwindled to silence while he navigates the stairs. At the bottom, in the bowl, he prepares a rather unceremonious departure with Wyaeth-- reluctantly drawn from wherever he'd found to hunker down and own the world-- landing with a thud off to one side. "Wyaeth will let Ciath know when we're here."
Zahava nods quickly. "That sounds good," she replies, turning to look at Wyaeth curiously. Stepping back, out of the way, she lifts her hand to wave to the pair. "Clear skies," she bids pleasantly.
IC Date: 10/22/13 (The day after Ciath's Flight.)
The afternoon is well-advanced by the time Secath is seen depositing N'thei on the bowl beneath her ledge. Whatever has transpired between N'thei and Persie does not seem to have ended equably, for the bronzerider departs her company with a stilted wave of farewell. From there, hands jammed into his pockets, he wheels and starts across the distance of the bowl with quick steps, his long afternoon shadow preceding him. In passing, one or two people milling in the bowl take stock of the big, unfamiliar bronzerider, but he's not wearing his most approachable expression this afternoon, and no one goes out of their way for a hello-there.
Zahava slips lightly down the myriad steps that make up the levels of the Junior Queen's ledges, glancing up occasionally to check the faces in the bowl to see if she can spot the man she's supposed to meet before he arrives. At last, her eyes settle on N'thei, bringing a pause as she recognizes it, then hurried steps to reach the bowl floor ahead of him. She lifts her chin slightly, clasping her hands behind her back as she waits for him to reach her.
At the same moment N'thei catches a look at Zahava, his demeanor changes entirely. He even smiles though, with the sun behind him and the yellow shadows of autumn veiling his face, it's hard to see if the smile touches his eyes at all. Just beyond normal earshot, he cups one hand around the edge of his mouth to lend distance to a hearty greeting; "Good afternoon, miss." Then, with a few quick jogs, he's caught up to the goldrider, looms a polite three feet away. "Sorry for the delay. Life, you know. N'thei." And he extends a big mitt for handshaking.
Zahava's head tilts to the side as she looks at the man, her expression a little uncertain at the apparently friendly greeting. She extends a slim hand to take his, studying him for just a beat more before offering a reply. "Not a problem in the least," she replies, her voice husky, much like a solely audible version of Ciath's. "Zahava," she adds. "It's... good to meet you properly." A hint of color rises into her cheeks at the words.
N'thei briefly encloses Zahava's hands in both of his, a perfunctory handshake made just a little more friendly, then nods in a hearty way. "Isn't it." Repocketing his hands now that they're of no further social value, he looks over Zahava's head toward the doings at this end of the bowl, all the while wearing a smile of a wholly pleasant variety. "So, with the social niceties out of the way, where can I leave some clean socks and a toothbrush should the need arise?"
Zahava's lips twist in a slightly uneven, wry smile as she turns slightly towards the stairs that lead up to the gold ledges. "We can do better than that," she says. "Once of the weyrs is set aside for visiting clutch sires. I've replaced all the linens and made sure everything is ready for someone to make use of it - we've not had a visiting clutch sire since Sareith of Telgar flew Faldaverth more than seven turns ago." She clears her throat, pausing a beat, then shakes her head slightly. "Shall I show you the way?" she offers, waving a hand up the stairs.
"Ah well. Then it's a rare honor for Wyaeth indeed, isn't it." A twinge of inflections renders all N'thei's questions rhetorical. With an undue amount of space spared for Zahava to proceed him up the stairs, the bronzerider answers almost eagerly; "By all means, lead the way. Though you didn't have to go to all that for it. With things the way they are, I hardly foresee spending that much time away from the Reaches."
Zahava takes a step before glancing over her shoulder. "That is up to you and Wyaeth, of course," she replies. "But I hope you'll find it convenient to spend some time here, especially once the eggs are on the sands." She starts up the stairs, adding after a beat, "I know how disruptive it can be to go visiting a place without a care in the world, and then wake up with everything different and new responsibilities that one may never have wanted."
The smile can still be heard in N'thei's voice even with Zahava's back turned to him; "Do you. Good, then at least we're on the same page on this one." Thumping up the stairs behind her, taking pauses now and then so as to neither catch up nor overtake the goldrider, he chats with apparent ease. "I at least owe it to Wyaeth to see the eggs and maybe shake hands with a few of the people who'll Impress them. Beyond that-- with this erratic 'fall, with things the way they are between the Reaches and Crom... Your weyr's over here, hm?"
Zahava heads up the ramp towards the Queens' Ledges.
Zahava has left.
You head up the ramp towards the Queens' Ledges.
With the bronzerider behind her, Zahava's expression is invisible, but she moves up the next few steps without responding. "Mine is the middle ledge," she says, off-hand, waving a hand in its general direction. "Fort has spared two dragons to other Weyrs in recent turns - Wrencath was even one of the Assistant Weyrlingmasters for my clutch when Nabrimeth clutched and he moved temporarily to High Reaches. My class graduated not long before P'draig had to move to Ista for Nalaieth's clutch. Wyaeth is out of Wrencath and Nabrimeth, isn't he?" she asks, finally glancing back at him.
"Indeed he is. I can't say that I got to know S'kris beyond a man hanging around here and there, but it's nice to be returning a favor in a roundabout way." N'thei returns the backward glance with a quick smile at Zahava, bright but brief. "Good of Fort to lend out its riders left and right, isn't it? I'm sure that High Reaches will be plenty charitable in return. But that will be up to Wyaeth and me, as you say. I'll make sure Satiet's aware that I was received with the utmost hospitality, of course."
Zahava steps to the side of the turning to the guest ledge, waving her hand up the stairs to the ledge. "After you," she invites with a somewhat tight smile. "This ledge and weyr is yours as much as you choose for the next few months."
You head into the Guest's Ledge.
Clutchsire's Weyr and Ledge
A large pair of caverns has been lovingly hewn into the rock wall of the bowl. The first, by far the larger, holds the dragon's couch, fully large enough for two full-sized dragons, even bronze and gold, to lay together. The stone is padded and covered by thick hide to give it the luxury of cushining. A niche in the corner holds a pair barrels for sand and oil, while a set of shelves above them hold an array of cloths and brushes. Nearby a rack is hung for straps and riding gear to be stowed.
Through a woolen curtain is the second cavern. Still generously large, it has a cozy wall, covered in rich tapestries that keep the chill Fortian nights at bay. A large, freshly-made, four-poster bed takes up a portion of the space, a thic, ovine-skin rug tucked up against the side. A fire crackles on the hearth in the cold months whenever a guest is present. Before the hearth is a neat little trio of two chairs and a comfortable loveseat arranged around another thick, woven rug. A table against the wall has two chairs and doubles as a desk, while a large wardrobe near the bed provides both vertical space for hanging garments and several deep drawers for folded items.
Through another, thinner curtain is the bathing chamber, constant hot water circulating in and out of the deep pool, refreshing it. The rest of the small room is comfortable, thick rugs underfoot. Vents overhead and a stove work together to keep the air from being too damp. Fluffed towels and buckets of sweetsand sit on shelves near the pool.
Zahava enters the Guest's Ledge.
Zahava has arrived.
N'thei steps in like it's a hotel room, interested but impersonal. He passes Zahava with a still polite, still bright smile that hasn't so much as flickered all this while. "Very nice. I'd feel a little like Wyaeth and I were just rattling around in here, too big, but very nice. Private bath, even. It's certainly going to make my own weyr seem a little spartan by comparison." He meanders around, drags a hand across fresh-made sheets, then looks back to Zahava pleasantly; "Good of you to have it all made up, miss."
Zahava follows him into the weyr, waving a hand towards a basket of fruit set on the table. "I've a friend at Ista who's been sending over a lot of fruit lately. If you aren't fond of fruit, we can put them in the living cavern. There's a caverns girl who'll come every day to make the bed, she'll also replenish the supplies in the bathing chamber and change the linens and towels, empty the trash basket and take away any plates or things you might bring from the living cavern," she says, her eyes skipping around the space to make sure everything is in order. She glances back to N'thei, and continues with, "There's no need for 'miss' - you can call me Zahava, if you like."
N'thei's eyes follow the wave to the fruit, and they brighten once again; "Good to have friends in tropical places. I'll figure out something to do with all that fruit, don't worry." At her latter comment, even while he's springing a hip against the edge of the bed to test it, or maybe just to have something to do, he cracks the first grin that seems laced with something other than pure pleasantness. "I think I'll stick with 'miss' for a while yet. Consider it a consolation prize for a bruised ego. Don't take it personally." The last tacked on humbly.
Zahava winces, her eyes lowering to the floor for a beat as the color rises once more into her cheeks. She clears her throat, running a hand through her short hair before lifting her eyes. "Very well," she allows lighty. "If there is... anything that would make the time you do spend here more comfortable, please don't hesitate to let me know."
"That wasn't meant to make you feel bad." N'thei sounds earnest, but why else would someone say something like that in the first place? "It is what it is, hmn? I'm sure I'll avail myself of your hospitality now and then, but don't worry overmuch. Does Ciath care one way or the other?" Smoothing the sheets where he'd been leaning just a moment ago, he decides the bedpost might be a more suitable location for leaning, arms crossed and tranquil eyes rested on Zahava.
Zahava tilts her head to the side slightly, then her slender shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "I'm not sure. She seems pleased that he's here, now. I've no idea what to expect in all this. Ciath's never risen before. She's fairly independent - didn't tell me at all that she was going to go up, though now she tells me she knew a few days before." There is a soft exhale that suggests a dry laugh. "I don't know if she'll be one of the ones who hardly pays attention to her eggs, or never leaves them."
N'thei gives the post behind him a doubtful look as it gives a partial inch against his leaning weight, his shoulder repositioned so that it gives again but a little less this time. "Someone said something about that, about her being a fair bit too old for this to be her first Flight, but it's all a little distorted in memory. Any rate, Wyaeth is the type to gloat. He hasn't had a chance to crow over Nikoth yet, so we'll have to get that out of the way. Then I expect we'll be back and forth enough to refresh his vanity."
Zahava's lips press together a little, and then she nods. "Just a little. She's not yet four. It's around the right time for an Interval." She lets her weight shift onto one foot, hip cocking out slightly. "Who is Nikoth?" she wonders, curious.
N'thei grins in a winning way, not far from charming when he's not forcing an unfelt cheer; "But it's not exactly an Interval now, is it. Certainly makes it hard to determine who's keeping apace of things." To Zahava's question, he lifts his brows then cocks an ear in her direction, mming mildly. "A'son's bronze. We Impressed together. You must know how these things go."
Zahava hmms thoughtfully. "My two bronze clutchmates are one anothers' best friends," she remarks. "But T'aren and S'kris can't stand one another, and I don't think K'len and V'delin are very fond of each other, either, so it can go a number of ways, I suppose, depending on the people."
"And A'son would probably be my 'best friend' if I were tied down and told to pick one. That doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy him being taken down a few notches." N'thei smiles at the thought of it, a fond looking smile that suits him well, and then he's straightened up a little. "Do you mind if I ask-- she fed, not just blooded. Why?"
Zahava winces a little at the question, her eyes lifting towards the stone overhead. "I don't know how it is with the males, but I don't remember much from weyrlinghood telling the riders of the male dragons to be so careful about getting them to blood only. With her... She's never been so violently uncontrollable. Stubborn, certainly, and insistant, but never so overpoweringly /wild/. They said she would be hard to control, that I'd have to work to make her blood, but I wasn't expecting it to be that hard, and it caught me off-guard."
N'thei starts, "But isn't--" That thought never gets finished, just ends with him filing his lip with his teeth. "All that matters in the end is that you managed to rein her in, hmn? Could have been an atrocious Flight otherwise." He raises his eyebrows again, contemplating the dodged bullet, then drags together another smile for Zahava; "So now for the next uncomfortable question. Why did you leave? Was it so awful? Because, if so, I need to know. Obviously, I'll have some things to work on."
Zahava flushes, her eyes skipping to his face for a beat and then away. "No, it wasn't you... it was everything. I... am not someone who likes to be out of control, least of all of something so... personal. I am sure that if I had been there of my own, premeditated, choice, I would have been well-pleased with the... experience, and I would have stayed. I just... was overwhelmed by /everything/, when I woke up."
N'thei laughs ruefully, a short chuckle mostly through his nose. "I am not someone who likes to be kicked in the teeth. Somehow, my not-someone and your not-someone created a very rude awakening." He leans partially, tilts his head in an attempt to keep a better look at Zahava's face for all the darting of her eyes. "I'm not a bad person, but we've gotten off to a very bad start." Another laugh later, he amends, "Well, a very good start, but not so good immediately after that."
Zahava clears her throat, her grey-green eyes lifting again to N'thei's face, openly, despite the flush in her cheeks. "I apologize. It wasn't my intention to... kick you in the teeth, but it was... selfish of me to flee. I can only plead complete lack of experience with such things, and apologize for it."
Wryly, "And you think I've got a wealth of experience here?" N'thei snorts unprettily, head shaking meanwhile. "But you've apologized and done is done, so. I don't suppose we even have to be friendly, when you really get down to it. I'm sorry to put you through the wringer for it. My prowess has just never been so sharply questioned before." He clicks off a wink, then straightens from the bedpost, one arm dragged around it to bend it back the right way a mite.
"I would rather be friendly," Zahava says simply. "But no, it's not required, as you say." She laces her fingers together for a moment, thumbs fidgeting. "Well, I should get back to my audit of the clothing stores," she says after a beat.
"I can't say that I'm envious of your task." N'thei ruffs his shirt collar blandly, straightens it so the button rests more appropriately at the hollow of his throat. "Can I walk you down the steps or..." His grin returns, flush with a rogue's charm. "Is that something so... personal?" There's a pointed mirror of Zahava's inflection a few moments ago.
Zahava can't help the rueful laugh, a dip of her chin acknowledging the hit. "I'd be happy for the company down the steps," she says gracefully, turning slightly towards the ledge, her eyes staying on N'thei as she moves, to see if he will come with her.
N'thei's coming with her, though nothing so stately as the offer of an arm. It's just his oversized company out from the ledge and down the steps, the conversation from his side dwindled to silence while he navigates the stairs. At the bottom, in the bowl, he prepares a rather unceremonious departure with Wyaeth-- reluctantly drawn from wherever he'd found to hunker down and own the world-- landing with a thud off to one side. "Wyaeth will let Ciath know when we're here."
Zahava nods quickly. "That sounds good," she replies, turning to look at Wyaeth curiously. Stepping back, out of the way, she lifts her hand to wave to the pair. "Clear skies," she bids pleasantly.