[M'try] Waking up Vanissa (by accident) pays off.
RL Date: 10/3/10
IC Date: 11/26/23 --Another log belatedly stolen from Nissa.
Green Gardens Skylight Weyr
The sloping entryway into the wallow is a bit on the narrow side and only big enough for the smaller dragons. A small brown could fit through, but mid-sized browns and larger will need to hang out on the ledge if they come to visit. Lined with butter-soft wherhide, the wallow is a comfortable space for a smaller dragon as well, but there's little in the way of space to share. Along the wall behind the wallow, a faded mural starts with a few green vines that curl around the corner into the rider's habitation. Pushing through dual layers of both weatherproofed oilcloth and an incongruously gauzy bit of white netting, the weyr itself is almost perfectly round with a small hearth set in the wall to the left of the entryway and several chests lining the walls for storage. The bed is unique: its stone shelf cuts across one curve of the wall, lending it an alcove-like feeling without actually being an alcove. Its hard surface is well padded with a new mattress and neatly folded linens. The mural is much brighter in here, starting to the right of the door and growing more and more elaborate as it progresses around the walls to encircle the hearth. Hidden amongst the vines and greenery are tropical birds, vtols and the bright blossoms of flowers illuminated from above by three odd, circular skylights covered over with translucent mica.
It's late now, late enough that the fire's in danger of burning out, while M'try has long since run out of steam. Except he's still awake, of course, perhaps partially owing to the fact that it's still pouring rain and, as if that wasn't enough, there's thunder rumbling often enough that, just when he might drift off, the sound wakes him instead. Finally, after this goes on for long enough that he assumes Vanissa's fallen asleep, he very quietly slips off to stoke the fire again, unfortunately dropping the poker with a tremendous clatter while it bounces around at his feet. "Well." Once the clamor dies. "I'm glad I worked so hard not to wake you while getting out of bed," he announces with commendable aplomb.
That sound. It's probably the proverbial 'loud enough to wake the dead'. And Nissa is certainly sleeping like she is after having spent almost the entire day out in the pouring cold rain on the mail run, participating in drills and then finishing with evening sweeps. All that would certainly have been enough to drain anyone of their energy, but of course Nissa spent the last bit of hers warming up with M'try. So when he slips out to tend the fire, she doesn't stir. But by the time the racket fades, he'll see her wide-eyed and sitting bolt upright in the bed with a disoriented expression that takes her a few blinks to clear. It's a sleepy-slow smile that grows in the wake of that and she replies with a drawl, "So'm I."
M'try stands, staring down at the fallen poker for a long several seconds, finally darting his attention between the implement and then the greenrider sitting up in bed over there. "Thankfully," he begins after a good ten seconds of silence, "it did not land on my foot. Close." He wiggles his big toe until it moves away and touches that bit of wrought iron, not far away at all, and then exhales a big breath. "I'm sorry. I wanted to stir the fire. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say." There's something about standing butt-naked by a recently stoked fire while your girlfriend stares blearily at you from the slumber you've just disturbed that finally puts the brownrider back in motion, one hand tugging through his hair, the other reaching to collect the fallen poker and finish the interrupted task, muttering quietly, "I will one day learn how to rewind time and redo the last ten minutes of my life, I'm certain of it."
Vanissa doesn't have the energy to remain sitting up and thus she melts back to the bed to rest on her elbows while attending to that silhouette over there. "Small blessings? We didn't have howls of pain added to the clatter. And we're not gonna do an emergency run to haul you broken-footed to the infirmary." Her words are good-natured; she's not under attack, she's in out of the rain, he is here... and the view isn't bad at all. While he pokes the fire, thunder rumbles overhead and she eyes the entrance warily. "Rewind us back to summer while you're at it?" Because. Cold. Rain.
Small blessings, she says, and M'try laughs dryly; "I think the term you were looking for, my love, is 'cold comfort.' I don't know that Isandre would believe me about the wild boar this time." The snicker is likely in response to his own 'this time.' As if she bought it last time, hah. Putting the poker away, trusting that the initial crackling of the fire will continue to improve until it starts roaring again, driving away the damp chill, he comes back to the bed with a big, apologetic sigh. "I will get to work on it first thing in the morning, certainly. It would solve both of our problems, as I wouldn't have cause to get out of bed if it wasn't getting steadily colder. I'm so sorry I woke you."
And that's just what Nissa says, one brow hiking up, "This time?" Her head tilts as she eyes his form up and down, looking for a telltale scar made by razor-sharp tusks, no doubt. She's unfamiliar with his supposed close encounter with a wild boar and thus he gets an admiring, "Ya run real fast, M'try." Because, yep. She finds no scar and he's alive to tell the tale. At his return, she flops back down, lifts the covers to allow him back in, her chuckled, "Only, the cold is why you're here?" In her weyr, warming her up. Which favor she now must return, apparently now that he's been walking around exposed like that. "Aw, it's- AHH! -better I was awake now that you're ice cold?"
M'try does not run fast; "On the contrary, I very nearly broke my ankle." Never mind the whole story is a great fabrication. Back in bed, scooting close, his cold toes worm their way toward her warm feet, trying to burrow into the warmth there, and he has to add around a laugh, "The cold is not why I'm here." Turning his nose into the curve of her neck, finding that's warm too (awesome), he adds eagerly, "Not at all why I'm here. --If you were asleep, I would have taken a blanket and paced in front of the fire until I warmed up on my own. Admittedly, this is better, though that doesn't change the fact that I'm sorry that I woke you."
Credulous, "Really now. How did ya survive without a scratch? Those critters are death." Either Nissa's badly in need of some entertainment or she really does believe him. "How did ya avoid- " Erk! Her feet twitch in response to those toes; but she bravely keeps them accessible, encircling him with her arms and drawing him in, reaching to pull the blanket up over the back of his neck at the same time. With a little shiver at that cold nose on her neck, she teases, "It ain't?" And of course his thoughtfulness, warming up on his own, is considered and behind him, her hands patpat on his back. "Don't be. I ain't." Pause, "Were... you asleep?"
Like this should have been obvious, M'try answers, "Ahh, it's actually quite simple to survive an attack from a wild boar." There's a long pause, long enough to get the blanket drawn all the way up, before he adds, "Provided it's a fictional boar, of course." Of course. He doesn't answer the teasing question, trusting that the steadily warming kisses will suffice in that arena, but the latter-- pause, "No, not yet. I was getting there, but then I started to think how cold it will be in the morning if the fire burns too low. And so I got up and decided to throw a poker in an effort to wake up half the Weyr. Alas, I only woke you." Epic fail.
Nissa's, "Oh yeah?" sees her interest perked; she's going to learn something - yay gullible! But following that pause while anticipating a revelation of stupendous dexterity and might in dodging, at the very least a hidden knack of scrambling up a tree, her, "Oh, you!" Is accompanied by a swift poke in the ribs and a snicker. But those kisses... they're all the answer she requires and she's returning them in a lazily relaxed way, tilting him a curious look when he draws away to answer, then laughs low in her throat, "Ya have some luck, don't ya?"
M'try, to clarify the boar issue, says with some measure of conspiracy in his voice, releasing a secret, "I slipped on the ice and turned my ankle. Upon entering the infirmary, there was a fairly cute Healer I had not yet met, and I felt that 'slipped on the ice' did not have the butch ring to it that 'attacked by wild boar' did." And he clears his throat, all confessed, unabashedly amused at the stupidity of his own fib. "If you'd like to call it luck, I won't make the effort to argue with you." After finding a pillow and shoving it under his head, he curls his arms around Vanissa and adds contentedly, "Things do, occasionally, albeit rarely, work out all right for me."
Vanissa, impressed after all, "It's a harperin' kinda skill, I'll wager." Said with sage gravity and yet, she has to wonder with some amusement, "Was she properly impressed and attentive to your... ankle?" Though. The way she asks that, he'd be correct if healery isn't what she's implying. He's moving and thus she shifts to allow him freedom, resettling after he's comfortable. Propping her head on one hand, the fingers of her other trace invisible patters on his stomach as she peers down at him with a smirk, "Well, if ya don't? I won't either." And she leans to brush her lips to his, while murmuring, "Do tell." An invitation if he wants to wax wordy and actually tell her. Since... he's the wordsmith and she's... busy.
M'try, to the matter of the healer being, uh, impressed and attentive and what Vanissa's implying, shakes his head with an amused crease in his brows; no, that one clearly didn't work out. Do-tell and then kissing don't really work together that well, certainly not in a brain like M'try's, one wired to single-minded focus, so he manages just one thing at a time: first, to thread his fingers in the back of sleep-tousled hair and kiss her. And kiss her. And kiss her a little more. Finally, quietly; "Remind me what we were discussing and I'll be happy to do-tell." Though, with his eyes still closed and a leg shifting to tangle up in hers, probably no, he won't be /happy/ so much as /distracted/.
Nissa's sympathetic-face for that one failure is totally feigned. Otherwise... well, she won't think about that while melting into those kisses, quite content to be sidetracked until he speaks again and she has to think hard in an attempt to recall what they were saying. It's a very brief try, however and she gives it up with a negligent shrug of one slim shoulder, sighs happily, and lowers her mouth to his. She's entangled and amnesiac because of it. Though. One of these days... words.
Laughter is brief but evident when Vanissa makes that token effort to remember, eyes amused where they rest on hers, and then M'try enjoys her amnesia entirely. It's late, yes, and they're both tired, yes, but it's still a commendable length of time later before 'words' are even possible. 'Cause the things M'try tends to 'say' at the time-- no, they don't qualify as real conversation. Resting his weight on his elbows now, pushing her hair back from her face, spare kisses tracing her cheekbones to her nose, he finally /says/, "You see? Things do, occasionally, work out all right for me."
Maybe not real conversation, but Nissa can't complain whatever it is he's saying in the interim. She may be tired, but the thought of sleep? Gone. Whoosh! Though later she'll be able to sleep through any further fire-tending M'try might do. Should he awaken the /whole/ Weyr AND break his foot in the process? He's on his own to get to the healers. Fingers idly running through his hair as he's kissing her cheekbones, her eyes are blissfully shut (and only partially because they'd have to be pried open at this point). See? Well, she can't. But she does understand, "Ya think?" Grin. If it's a touch smug? Totally intentional.
"Occasionally," M'try answer simply, and leaves it at that. Correcting the blankets again, tucking them up to her shoulders this time, he gets himself comfortable and, though it takes a while on his side, does fall asleep before morning has a chance to catch him unawares. Vanissa will have to make up the fire in the morning, he snores quietly through most of the morning.
IC Date: 11/26/23 --Another log belatedly stolen from Nissa.
Green Gardens Skylight Weyr
The sloping entryway into the wallow is a bit on the narrow side and only big enough for the smaller dragons. A small brown could fit through, but mid-sized browns and larger will need to hang out on the ledge if they come to visit. Lined with butter-soft wherhide, the wallow is a comfortable space for a smaller dragon as well, but there's little in the way of space to share. Along the wall behind the wallow, a faded mural starts with a few green vines that curl around the corner into the rider's habitation. Pushing through dual layers of both weatherproofed oilcloth and an incongruously gauzy bit of white netting, the weyr itself is almost perfectly round with a small hearth set in the wall to the left of the entryway and several chests lining the walls for storage. The bed is unique: its stone shelf cuts across one curve of the wall, lending it an alcove-like feeling without actually being an alcove. Its hard surface is well padded with a new mattress and neatly folded linens. The mural is much brighter in here, starting to the right of the door and growing more and more elaborate as it progresses around the walls to encircle the hearth. Hidden amongst the vines and greenery are tropical birds, vtols and the bright blossoms of flowers illuminated from above by three odd, circular skylights covered over with translucent mica.
It's late now, late enough that the fire's in danger of burning out, while M'try has long since run out of steam. Except he's still awake, of course, perhaps partially owing to the fact that it's still pouring rain and, as if that wasn't enough, there's thunder rumbling often enough that, just when he might drift off, the sound wakes him instead. Finally, after this goes on for long enough that he assumes Vanissa's fallen asleep, he very quietly slips off to stoke the fire again, unfortunately dropping the poker with a tremendous clatter while it bounces around at his feet. "Well." Once the clamor dies. "I'm glad I worked so hard not to wake you while getting out of bed," he announces with commendable aplomb.
That sound. It's probably the proverbial 'loud enough to wake the dead'. And Nissa is certainly sleeping like she is after having spent almost the entire day out in the pouring cold rain on the mail run, participating in drills and then finishing with evening sweeps. All that would certainly have been enough to drain anyone of their energy, but of course Nissa spent the last bit of hers warming up with M'try. So when he slips out to tend the fire, she doesn't stir. But by the time the racket fades, he'll see her wide-eyed and sitting bolt upright in the bed with a disoriented expression that takes her a few blinks to clear. It's a sleepy-slow smile that grows in the wake of that and she replies with a drawl, "So'm I."
M'try stands, staring down at the fallen poker for a long several seconds, finally darting his attention between the implement and then the greenrider sitting up in bed over there. "Thankfully," he begins after a good ten seconds of silence, "it did not land on my foot. Close." He wiggles his big toe until it moves away and touches that bit of wrought iron, not far away at all, and then exhales a big breath. "I'm sorry. I wanted to stir the fire. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say." There's something about standing butt-naked by a recently stoked fire while your girlfriend stares blearily at you from the slumber you've just disturbed that finally puts the brownrider back in motion, one hand tugging through his hair, the other reaching to collect the fallen poker and finish the interrupted task, muttering quietly, "I will one day learn how to rewind time and redo the last ten minutes of my life, I'm certain of it."
Vanissa doesn't have the energy to remain sitting up and thus she melts back to the bed to rest on her elbows while attending to that silhouette over there. "Small blessings? We didn't have howls of pain added to the clatter. And we're not gonna do an emergency run to haul you broken-footed to the infirmary." Her words are good-natured; she's not under attack, she's in out of the rain, he is here... and the view isn't bad at all. While he pokes the fire, thunder rumbles overhead and she eyes the entrance warily. "Rewind us back to summer while you're at it?" Because. Cold. Rain.
Small blessings, she says, and M'try laughs dryly; "I think the term you were looking for, my love, is 'cold comfort.' I don't know that Isandre would believe me about the wild boar this time." The snicker is likely in response to his own 'this time.' As if she bought it last time, hah. Putting the poker away, trusting that the initial crackling of the fire will continue to improve until it starts roaring again, driving away the damp chill, he comes back to the bed with a big, apologetic sigh. "I will get to work on it first thing in the morning, certainly. It would solve both of our problems, as I wouldn't have cause to get out of bed if it wasn't getting steadily colder. I'm so sorry I woke you."
And that's just what Nissa says, one brow hiking up, "This time?" Her head tilts as she eyes his form up and down, looking for a telltale scar made by razor-sharp tusks, no doubt. She's unfamiliar with his supposed close encounter with a wild boar and thus he gets an admiring, "Ya run real fast, M'try." Because, yep. She finds no scar and he's alive to tell the tale. At his return, she flops back down, lifts the covers to allow him back in, her chuckled, "Only, the cold is why you're here?" In her weyr, warming her up. Which favor she now must return, apparently now that he's been walking around exposed like that. "Aw, it's- AHH! -better I was awake now that you're ice cold?"
M'try does not run fast; "On the contrary, I very nearly broke my ankle." Never mind the whole story is a great fabrication. Back in bed, scooting close, his cold toes worm their way toward her warm feet, trying to burrow into the warmth there, and he has to add around a laugh, "The cold is not why I'm here." Turning his nose into the curve of her neck, finding that's warm too (awesome), he adds eagerly, "Not at all why I'm here. --If you were asleep, I would have taken a blanket and paced in front of the fire until I warmed up on my own. Admittedly, this is better, though that doesn't change the fact that I'm sorry that I woke you."
Credulous, "Really now. How did ya survive without a scratch? Those critters are death." Either Nissa's badly in need of some entertainment or she really does believe him. "How did ya avoid- " Erk! Her feet twitch in response to those toes; but she bravely keeps them accessible, encircling him with her arms and drawing him in, reaching to pull the blanket up over the back of his neck at the same time. With a little shiver at that cold nose on her neck, she teases, "It ain't?" And of course his thoughtfulness, warming up on his own, is considered and behind him, her hands patpat on his back. "Don't be. I ain't." Pause, "Were... you asleep?"
Like this should have been obvious, M'try answers, "Ahh, it's actually quite simple to survive an attack from a wild boar." There's a long pause, long enough to get the blanket drawn all the way up, before he adds, "Provided it's a fictional boar, of course." Of course. He doesn't answer the teasing question, trusting that the steadily warming kisses will suffice in that arena, but the latter-- pause, "No, not yet. I was getting there, but then I started to think how cold it will be in the morning if the fire burns too low. And so I got up and decided to throw a poker in an effort to wake up half the Weyr. Alas, I only woke you." Epic fail.
Nissa's, "Oh yeah?" sees her interest perked; she's going to learn something - yay gullible! But following that pause while anticipating a revelation of stupendous dexterity and might in dodging, at the very least a hidden knack of scrambling up a tree, her, "Oh, you!" Is accompanied by a swift poke in the ribs and a snicker. But those kisses... they're all the answer she requires and she's returning them in a lazily relaxed way, tilting him a curious look when he draws away to answer, then laughs low in her throat, "Ya have some luck, don't ya?"
M'try, to clarify the boar issue, says with some measure of conspiracy in his voice, releasing a secret, "I slipped on the ice and turned my ankle. Upon entering the infirmary, there was a fairly cute Healer I had not yet met, and I felt that 'slipped on the ice' did not have the butch ring to it that 'attacked by wild boar' did." And he clears his throat, all confessed, unabashedly amused at the stupidity of his own fib. "If you'd like to call it luck, I won't make the effort to argue with you." After finding a pillow and shoving it under his head, he curls his arms around Vanissa and adds contentedly, "Things do, occasionally, albeit rarely, work out all right for me."
Vanissa, impressed after all, "It's a harperin' kinda skill, I'll wager." Said with sage gravity and yet, she has to wonder with some amusement, "Was she properly impressed and attentive to your... ankle?" Though. The way she asks that, he'd be correct if healery isn't what she's implying. He's moving and thus she shifts to allow him freedom, resettling after he's comfortable. Propping her head on one hand, the fingers of her other trace invisible patters on his stomach as she peers down at him with a smirk, "Well, if ya don't? I won't either." And she leans to brush her lips to his, while murmuring, "Do tell." An invitation if he wants to wax wordy and actually tell her. Since... he's the wordsmith and she's... busy.
M'try, to the matter of the healer being, uh, impressed and attentive and what Vanissa's implying, shakes his head with an amused crease in his brows; no, that one clearly didn't work out. Do-tell and then kissing don't really work together that well, certainly not in a brain like M'try's, one wired to single-minded focus, so he manages just one thing at a time: first, to thread his fingers in the back of sleep-tousled hair and kiss her. And kiss her. And kiss her a little more. Finally, quietly; "Remind me what we were discussing and I'll be happy to do-tell." Though, with his eyes still closed and a leg shifting to tangle up in hers, probably no, he won't be /happy/ so much as /distracted/.
Nissa's sympathetic-face for that one failure is totally feigned. Otherwise... well, she won't think about that while melting into those kisses, quite content to be sidetracked until he speaks again and she has to think hard in an attempt to recall what they were saying. It's a very brief try, however and she gives it up with a negligent shrug of one slim shoulder, sighs happily, and lowers her mouth to his. She's entangled and amnesiac because of it. Though. One of these days... words.
Laughter is brief but evident when Vanissa makes that token effort to remember, eyes amused where they rest on hers, and then M'try enjoys her amnesia entirely. It's late, yes, and they're both tired, yes, but it's still a commendable length of time later before 'words' are even possible. 'Cause the things M'try tends to 'say' at the time-- no, they don't qualify as real conversation. Resting his weight on his elbows now, pushing her hair back from her face, spare kisses tracing her cheekbones to her nose, he finally /says/, "You see? Things do, occasionally, work out all right for me."
Maybe not real conversation, but Nissa can't complain whatever it is he's saying in the interim. She may be tired, but the thought of sleep? Gone. Whoosh! Though later she'll be able to sleep through any further fire-tending M'try might do. Should he awaken the /whole/ Weyr AND break his foot in the process? He's on his own to get to the healers. Fingers idly running through his hair as he's kissing her cheekbones, her eyes are blissfully shut (and only partially because they'd have to be pried open at this point). See? Well, she can't. But she does understand, "Ya think?" Grin. If it's a touch smug? Totally intentional.
"Occasionally," M'try answer simply, and leaves it at that. Correcting the blankets again, tucking them up to her shoulders this time, he gets himself comfortable and, though it takes a while on his side, does fall asleep before morning has a chance to catch him unawares. Vanissa will have to make up the fire in the morning, he snores quietly through most of the morning.