[M'try] Mohraith won. (Vignette)
Chielyth's upcoming Flight (which may be attendable, may not be depending on work) reminded me that I've never really dealt with M'try and Mohraith winning or losing.
He was so terrified that she would awaken that he didn’t move more than his eyes for fully five minutes after he started from his own sleep. In unfamiliar surroundings, M’try reached out immediately, reflexively for Mohraith and found the brown asleep so deeply and placidly that he was loathe to disturb that slumber, and it took him half a minute to piece together what had happened: unfamiliar room, a woman he recognized but certainly didn’t remember going to bed with, and a wholly sated lifemate.
Mohraith had won.
With the realization, snippets came back to him, and he caaaaarefully rolled onto his back, arm tossed over his eyes, sifting through his memory until things achieved some sort of order. He knew her name was Derilee, that she was in her forties-- possibly her fifties, as dragonriders did have the tendency to look young longer, he’d noticed-- and that she was attractive if not stunning. Peeking at her in her sleep, he saw threads of gray in the light brown hair, freckles from a life lived outdoors, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth that would deepen when she woke and smiled at him. Which she did presently.
He froze, green eyes pinned to her brown ones which brightened when she laughed at his obvious dismay. “It’s okay,” she assured him, reaching to ruffle his hair in a way that M’try had grown used to over the years. “You did good.” He fought the urge to point out that a person does well, not good, at least aware that now wasn’t the time for a grammar lesson. Scooting over, she pressed a kiss against his cheek, and the action had the effect of startling him awake.
Hastily, he apologized, meanwhile scooting up till he sat cross-legged with the blankets pooled in his lap. She watched him with idle amusement, head cocked, clearly not the first time she’d dealt with a stunned partner. Sitting up after him, she drew her arms around his shoulders, at once amorous and comforting. Derilee noted, with a pointed grin, that their dragons were liable to be asleep for some hours yet, so they may as well get comfortable in here, and proceeded to do something so distracting to his ear that it took every ounce of M’try’s will to puff out the words, “I have a girlfriend.”
She was right about it being several hours before the dragons stirred, Mohraith feeling affectionate and proud and eager to spend time with his new friend. By the time he was dressed and leaving, he had learned of Derilee’s family-- she had three boys, the oldest a few Turns younger than M’try himself, and she laughingly assured him that he had nothing to worry about, she was past her childbearing years now, sweetie-- and some of her history. Her oldest was now an apprentice at Keroon, where his parents had long been posted, and he promised to make an effort to meet him the next time he visited. They parted with a kiss on each cheek, and M’try eyed the gray morning a touch warily on his way out.
“Just what we need, more rain.”
He was so terrified that she would awaken that he didn’t move more than his eyes for fully five minutes after he started from his own sleep. In unfamiliar surroundings, M’try reached out immediately, reflexively for Mohraith and found the brown asleep so deeply and placidly that he was loathe to disturb that slumber, and it took him half a minute to piece together what had happened: unfamiliar room, a woman he recognized but certainly didn’t remember going to bed with, and a wholly sated lifemate.
Mohraith had won.
With the realization, snippets came back to him, and he caaaaarefully rolled onto his back, arm tossed over his eyes, sifting through his memory until things achieved some sort of order. He knew her name was Derilee, that she was in her forties-- possibly her fifties, as dragonriders did have the tendency to look young longer, he’d noticed-- and that she was attractive if not stunning. Peeking at her in her sleep, he saw threads of gray in the light brown hair, freckles from a life lived outdoors, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth that would deepen when she woke and smiled at him. Which she did presently.
He froze, green eyes pinned to her brown ones which brightened when she laughed at his obvious dismay. “It’s okay,” she assured him, reaching to ruffle his hair in a way that M’try had grown used to over the years. “You did good.” He fought the urge to point out that a person does well, not good, at least aware that now wasn’t the time for a grammar lesson. Scooting over, she pressed a kiss against his cheek, and the action had the effect of startling him awake.
Hastily, he apologized, meanwhile scooting up till he sat cross-legged with the blankets pooled in his lap. She watched him with idle amusement, head cocked, clearly not the first time she’d dealt with a stunned partner. Sitting up after him, she drew her arms around his shoulders, at once amorous and comforting. Derilee noted, with a pointed grin, that their dragons were liable to be asleep for some hours yet, so they may as well get comfortable in here, and proceeded to do something so distracting to his ear that it took every ounce of M’try’s will to puff out the words, “I have a girlfriend.”
She was right about it being several hours before the dragons stirred, Mohraith feeling affectionate and proud and eager to spend time with his new friend. By the time he was dressed and leaving, he had learned of Derilee’s family-- she had three boys, the oldest a few Turns younger than M’try himself, and she laughingly assured him that he had nothing to worry about, she was past her childbearing years now, sweetie-- and some of her history. Her oldest was now an apprentice at Keroon, where his parents had long been posted, and he promised to make an effort to meet him the next time he visited. They parted with a kiss on each cheek, and M’try eyed the gray morning a touch warily on his way out.
“Just what we need, more rain.”