[Log] Shirtya and Rakatakakalazag

[brazenbronzer]

Who: K'tag, Sh'drian, Tirya
When: Unknown
Where: Tree Watch Platform, Southern Weyr
What: Sh'drian and Tirya break their good news to K'tag, who scares Tirya away and pisses Sh'drian off. Somehow, the pair of them make up and wind up horribly drunk before the night's end.

Dragon> Eadranth senses that Aidryth tentatively extends his mindscape out to his bronze brother's, voice quiet, mellow, unenthused, but not unkind. << Eadranth? >> he tests, as though gauging whether the dragon is near or far. << There be this little tree post in Southern K'tag want to see yours at, if you think he can be coming. How do that sound? >>

Eadranth> Aidryth senses that Eadranth's mind is burning with excitement and pleasure, roiling magma just beneath the surface of his words. << My Sh'drian knows that place. He and her-->> an image of Jaeni flickers through his thoughts <<--have met there before. Mine will be there shortly. We were just on our way to Southern to see Taminyth and her rider, anyway. >>

---| Tree Watch Platform |--------------------------------| Southern Weyr |---
     Thick rope cables stretch from one Mandamo tree to another, lying on either side of the sturdy trunks with a wooden platform laced between the guiding lines and hemmed by thinner yet sturdy lashes. Handrails of a less ample cord with a zigzag barrier have been threaded between the rail and the platform's bottom to ensure that no accidents. There is enough room for around three to four people to stand and gaze out over the 'landscape'. This is the perfect spot to post a sentry to search for inclement weather or Threadfall. To the far right is a drum, used to sound the alarm if any of the aforementioned events occur. To the left, a sturdy looking ladder offers safe passage from the platform to the ground below, while lines are formed by the floor's planking, either by coincidence, or implying the presence of a trapdoor.
     Low on the horizon, Belior's crescent rises in the warm spring skies as evening falls. A faint trace of stars seems to twine above the Daughters as if forming a maiden's crown of flowers. Other stars glimmer faintly.
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People: Sh'drian K'tag

Obvious exits:
Rope Ladder

K'tag
     K'tag's most distinguishing physical characteristic is his height. Standing tall at an inch or two over six feet, this young man appears older than he actually is. Though he has only twenty two Turns to his name, his creased face, usually set into a low and serious frown, and his dull blue eyes have a tendency to disguise him as turns older. He has short brown hair on his scalp, and the light makings of a moustache and beard as facial hair. His skin is lightly tanned, and his frame is fairly muscular from a life of manual labor.
     K'tag is sporting his riding uniform, a light green cotton shirt with emerald and black stripes along the neckline, black shorts with green embroidery similar to that of his shirt, and a pair of nondescript wherhide boots. A fine hand has stitched what rips and tears have come up during the clothing's lifespan. Directly below his right shoulder is a carefully stitched brown dragon, signifying K'tag's lifemate. Below his left shoulder, a stitch with the colors of the Southern Weyr patch. The knot he wears on his left arm signifies him as a brownrider and Wingsecond of Firedance.

Brownrider K'tag stands against the handrails in the middle of the post, leaning heavily upon it as he watches without intensity the sunset of the Southern sky. Though his back is straight and his chin up, the man looks almost relaxed this evening, garbed up in a single shirt without a knot. If he is expecting anybody, he does not show it; when his eyes deviate from that sunset, it is only to look straight down, not toward the post's rope ladder, and they always return to the land ahead.

Dragon> Eadranth senses that Aidryth catches wind of Eadranth's excitement, and his own spirits lift noticably from it, hot, hazy. << K'tag and Czanth's - that Czanth's, right? - we met there too once. I am glad you know the way, and I think mine very glad yours are coming. I am glad yours is coming too! >> he adds, his opinion significant to himself.

Eadranth> I bespoke Aidryth with << My rider and I are glad to be coming, too--although my rider may not be so happy if yours keeps him from Taminyth's long. >>

Dragon> Aidryth bespoke Eadranth with << I would not be worrying, my brother, I am sure K'tag will not be taking long at all. >>

An unusual amount of brush-crashing precedes Sh'drian's arrival into the copse below. "Shard it, K'tag," he calls loudly, knowing the brownrider must be nearby. "You had to pick the most inaccessible place, didn't you? If you just knew how bad I felt." Indeed, he still looks battered, with lingering bruises across his flesh. Turning stiffly, the bronzerider sights the ladder to the platform above and begins a laborious climb. When he hauls himself at last to the top, he stops to take a couple of breaths. "Shards. It wasn't that long a climb last time I came," he declares, looking toward the brownrider beside him.

K'tag glances down from his position above at the sounds of some rabbling below, and he leans forward slightly to peer down at him. "And a fine evening to you too, Weyrleader," the brownrider replies, voice stoic but tingling faintly with amusement. His eyes go back to the sunset and don't strip away until the bronzerider has yanked himself up the ropeladder with a bit of trouble. "... Did you get lost or something, Sh'drian? You look..." Pointed trail off.

Dragon> Eadranth senses that Taminyth's syrupy sweet voice intrudes. <>

Eadranth> Taminyth senses that Eadranth responds warmly, << He is as well as he expected to be after such a day as he had. We were coming to see you, but Aidryth's rider wanted us to meet him first. You should come, too! They are here. Mine would be very pleased if she came. >> He sends an image of the platform above the copse.

Dragon> Eadranth senses that Taminyths voice is absent for a moment, then returns. <>

Tirya enters from the overgrown vegetation of the copse.
Tirya has arrived.

Tirya
     Tirya is a tall, clean cut figure standing at just over six foot. Her body is lithe, and rather muscular and she holds herself in a confident manner with her chin raised and her shoulders back. The woman's slim frame shows a hint of womanly curvature through her modest clothing and long limbs give Tirya the look of a young man. Obsidian locks hang like silken strands about her face, haning freely to just below her shoulders. Her hair is lustrous and thick, setting off her feminine face. Skin of sun-kissed cream, just dark enough to be beyond a porcelain finish, is enviable for those with mottled complextions. Pale eyes of frosted jade are a startling feature, drawing attention to her face where they are joined by a small, pointy nose and pouting pink lips. High cheekbones finish out the neatly chiseled look and lend to a sullen and almost snobby appearance.
     The lean girl wears a simple tunic of pale cerulean over khaki colored breeches. She bears a knot of emerald, light green and black with one thread of gold, signifying that she is a Junior Weyrwoman of Southern Weyr.

"It's been a rough couple of days," remarks Sh'drian, coming to lean against the railing himself. "I don't suppose you heard about the brawl in the living cavern over at Ierne? No, I didn't think so," he answers his own question. "One of the residents jumped me, and it just went downhill from there. The day ended nice, though." He smirks slyly.

K'tag does inhale to reply to Sh'drian's question, though he remains silent when the bronzerider answers his own question. "... I am sorry to hear about the attack, but... Ended well?" the brownrider inquires, both eyebrows lifting faintly as he tilts his chin up. "Ah, yes, of course." His head comes down in a nod of understanding, and he averts his eyes back to the sunset. "Aidryth informed me you had contact with Tirya, but I told him I would seek the full details from you this day. How fares she?" His voice is friendly if not a touch dull, no undertone of a hint in his voice.

"Ended well," affirms Sh'drian. "Beck and I did do some damage to each other, and Margan--our assistant steward--threw me in the ocean. That's when I came over here to see Tirya. Eadranth mentioned something to me earlier today about talking to Aidryth. He didn't interrupt me last night. But, ah--" He eyes the other man for a moment before continuing his thought. "He said something about Aidryth being so happy for both of us. What's been going on with you lately?"

It's about that time that a soft sound can be heard as someone ascends on the ladder. A dark haired head pops up and then the rest of Tirya as she clambers into the midst of male bonding. "Erm, hi," she mutters, looking a little uncertain and going pink. "Sorry to barge in, hope it's alright? I won't stay long, I promise," she murmurs. The woman then unhitches something from her belt. "I have a peace offering?" she questions, holding out a bottle of wine that was given to her by Zafi after Impression.

K'tag's mouth pulls back into a low sympathetic frown as Sh'drian describes the fight, shaking his head as though he disapproves. "And of course, I am certain you did nothing to warrant such abuse," the Southern rider replies gently. "Eadranth did not interrupt you? ... Well, I suppose poor Tirya would not have taken it well if you had been distracted while you were talking to her. Considerate of him. More considerate than Aidryth, perhaps." Definitely warmly spoken. A hand comes up to scratch nonchalantly as his shoulder, and he glances out to the plains, wetting his lips but not speaking immediately. "... Let us say, all goes well with Ra-" But he doesn't finish the word as he notices Tirya, turning away from the railing to glance at her, then Sh'drian, then Tirya again. "Good evening, Tirya. A peace offering?" The look in his eyes says 'Shad, you'd better have a good explanation for this.'

Surprised by the arrival of another, Sh'drian glances around--and immediately offers Tirya a smile. "How'd you find us?" he inquires. Then: "Oh. Eadranth. He's been getting quite sneaky lately. I'm not sure I like it," notes the man, shaking his head. "You brought wine? Shards. Let's break it out, then." Straightening from where he was leaning over the railing, he turns to watch the goldrider. "With Ra... Rajazad?" he ventures toward K'tag, not taking his eyes off Tirya in the meantime. "That's good, then. Eadranth couldn't tell me anything about what Aidryth was going on about, but I figured he probably forgot sometime over the night. He was busy thinking about everything else on Pern."

Tirya's eyes trace Sh'drian and she flashes him a wicked little smile. "Everyone could use a little wine now and then, couldn't they?" she tells K'tag coyly, though her eyes are still locked hungrily on the bronzerider for another moment. Tearing them away, she lifts her brows and grins at K'tag. "Did I hear you mention Jaz? Anything interesting going on there? Come now. Let's drink and talk like...men," she informs them merrily. Apparently, she knew just who she'd find here. Unclipping three mugs from her belt, she pops the cork and pours the red liquid into them. The first mug is offered to K'tag, the second is held out for Shad.

"Rajazad," K'tag affirms Sh'drian after a moment, eyebrows slits as he peers at the bronzerider. When he glances back to Tirya, his gaze is less intense but still thoughtful. There is something vital about this conversation missing in the brownrider's head, and he can't figure out quite what it is. He accepts the mug from Tirya with a low bit of gratitude, seemingly content to put his confusion aside for the time being. "I, ah... what is there to say? I love her, she loves me, and I am happier than I have been in Turns. I wish to spend every moment... ah." His eyes fall upon Tirya, and his shoulders sag, shamed. He lifts the mug to his mouth. "... I... apologize, Tirya. How are you feeling these days?" Little sip of wine.

"Everyone could always use some wine," Sh'drian intones solemnly, though his smirk is much less gravid. Then, brows arching at Tirya's actions, he remarks, "My, you are prepared." Eagerly, he accepts the mug and immediately raises it to his lips to take a deep sip. "Not bad stuff, either--especially compared to what I'm used to now. Thanks," he tells Tirya. Eyes flickering back to K'tag, then the woman again, he notes, "Nice feeling, huh?"

Tirya's eyes gleam and she turns to smile at K'tag. "Please, K'tag. No need to apologize. I can appreciate love," the goldrider notes. The woman now fills her own mug and sips it thoughtfully. "I'm glad for you. You of all riders deserve it," she tells him, lifting her glass. "To your love," she offers, then turns to gaze upon Sh'drian again.

K'tag glances down into his mug at that first sip of klah, smacking his lips and taking another little sip. Looks like somebody approves of it. "Ah... thank you," he replies, a touch sheepishly, raising his glass to meet Tirya's and, if he follows the gesture, Sh'drian's. "To Rajazad." Quietly spoken and followed by a sip. "I, ah... I suppose you two had a good conversation, then," he notes, lifting up his head to gesture to seemingly nothing - perhaps the glances, perhaps not. "What is this a 'peace offering' for, if I might ask?"

Sh'drian, with a crooked smile, raises his own glass, offering, "To both of you." He doesn't say whether that 'both' encompasses K'tag and Rajazad or K'tag and Tirya; perhaps it's meant to be so ambiguous. He takes another big sip, toying with the mug afterward. "Conversation. Right. It was very... enlightening," Sh'drian answers with a knowing smirk and a lingering glance at Tirya. "Wouldn't you say so, Tirya?"

Tirya actaully flashes him a quick wing. "Long overdue, I'd say," she notes, trying her best to sound serious. The young woman sips her wine and sighs happily. "It's a peace offering for barging in on your 'guy time'," she informs K'tag. "Since I knew you were up here," is tacked on with a grin. That said, she moves a little closer to Sh'drian before pausing, seming to finally hesitate now as her courage fails. Tirya moves more uncertainly to lean against the rail next to him, eyes on her boots.

K'tag actually gives off the faintest of chuckles as Tirya mentions 'guy time', replying gently, "Ah, I understand now. You were interrupting nothing significant." The actual honesty of that statement is difficult to gauge, given the brownrider's serious, dull tones, and his closes his eyes nonchalantly as he takes a small sip of wine. Maybe it's the lingering glance, the smirk, or the usage of the word 'enlightening', but when K'tag opens his eyes he shifts a gaze over to Sh'drian, throwing the man a bit of a grin. "Knowing you, I should consider it a wonder there was nothing more, hm?" One last sip, adding, "This is very good, Tirya, where did you get it?"

Sh'drian has no such hesitations; when Tirya moves closer and pauses, he closes the distance between them easily, sidling over to stand by her. "You're not barging in," he insists. "At least, not as far as I'm concerned." Pause. Sh'drian gives K'tag a Look. "K'tag, you are incredibly dense sometimes," the bronzerider announces after a moment. "It's us. It's been four turns. We're finally actually, you know, /talking/ again. I hate to break it to you, K'tag, but: Something Happened."

At first, pink comes to Tirya's cheeks, but it soon leaves and she dares to slide an arm out to try and fish it around one of Sh'drian's, hoping to curl herself about it. "A few times," she manages to add with a smirk, now seeking to really throw K'tag's simple mind. "And the wine was a gift from Zafirah at graduation. I brought it forward with me," she informs him.

K'tag coughs the drink of wine happily slipping down his throat back into the mug at those final two words of Sh'drian's, sputtering out a "What?" as he bangs upon his chest, once, twice, coughing three times more. Not the most elegant of responses. As quickly as possible he shoots a positively dumbfounded look toward Sh'drian, mouth open, shaking his head slowly. "You and her... you, after C'ryn, after C'ryn, you took -her-, and you... you... you and her?" Eloquent, too. After a moment's thought, a slow, hesitant smile starts to cross his face, and he sets his back up straight, chuckling very slightly as he shakes his head. "I do not believe you. You are trying to trick me. That is it, is it not?"

Sh'drian's smirk broadens when Tirya slides her arm about his. He doesn't look at all embarrassed, but then, who really expected that? "A good thing to bring forward. Shards. Why couldn't she have given me s'more wine? All I got was a cloak," he pouts, taking another appreciative sip of his wine. Brows arch at K'tag, but that's about all the reaction the stunned brownrider is going to get. "Me, and her. Us," he says patiently, like he's explaining something to a young child. "Believe us, don't believe us. Your choice to make. But note, what you believe doesn't change the truth." Smirk.

Tirya grins mischeviously, not looking sympathetic at all for K'tag and his spluttering. In fact, the goldrider all out snickers. "Poor thing," she says sarcastically. "Was I supposed to whither away, or pine for months?" she queries. "I will always be sad for him, though our last few months were trying and that made things easier, luckily for me," she admits. "And honestly, part of me just clung to him for security. I needed that," she says softly and then shakes her head, finishing the topic. "And with that said, let it rest peacibly," she says, pausing for a quiet moment before lifting her eyes to soak in Sh'drian once more.

K'tag continues to shake his head as Sh'drian speaks, as though the thought of such a thing alone is beyond his very comprehension. His eyes remain on Tirya, almost desperate, as though clinging for her to shatter the prank and bring to light the truth, and his chest only falls when she does not. "... Rest peacibly? Rest peacibly?" Not once, but twice. "This is... oh shards, Sh'drian, oh no." He sets the mug of wine down on the ground just so he can run both hands though his hair, shaking his head slowly. "You have done bad, you have done some incredibly bad things, but those were a weyrling's prank to this. You. Are taking advantage. Of her state. To move in. For your own selfishness. This is unbelievable. Un-sharding-believable." And his head continues to shake, even now, after the initial shock has set in. Or perhaps it is still going. It is difficult to tell.

Sh'drian falls silent for a moment, watching Tirya when she speaks of C'ryn. However, when K'tag starts, Sh'drian's eyes flicker to the brownrider, confusion evident in them and the set of his mouth, his brows. "I--I thought," he begins, as other feelings set in, "you'd be happy for us. I thought--Shards, K'tag. You're never satisfied, are you? I can't do right by you." Perhaps surprisingly, hurt and betrayal are more dominant in his voice and his expression than anger, so long the answer to every problem.

Tirya shakes her head and looks between the two, though she doesn't say anything to address what K'tag has just said, even though he is talking about her in front of her face. Clasping the mug in the hand of the arm looped through, Sh'drian's, Tirya places a comforting hand upon his chest, eyes looking concerned as the shift between the two men. "I don't think he is this time, K'tag. Have you no trust?" she offers. "I'm willing to risk what I have," she says softly.

Tug, tug, tug on the hair, and K'tag's headshaking finally slows to a stop, pointing at the bronzerider. "Sh'drian, you care about my opinion an awful lot for a person who doesn't take it into account when he does things like this. He has been gone for days. Days! Shards, I cannot even call them months, and you, Tirya, you..." What passion he generates does fall slightly at Tirya's comparative serenity, as does his hand. His face wrenches a bit, but he swallows it back. His words are a little more calm now, but not much. "It is so soon, Tirya. It is so soon, have you no love - shardit, Tirya, have you not common respect for your weyrmate, so little that you would trust this man with something so valuable? Every time I put my trust into him, I sincerely regret it. Everytime I sharding trust him to do the right thing. Shardit, shardit, I would have trust if he were a trustworthy person, Tirya. And he is not."

Detaching himself from Tirya, Sh'drian turns away from K'tag to stare back over the railing toward the sunset, now fading at last. "Leave her out of this, K'tag," he tells the brownrider flatly, though he doesn't look at him. Resting his weight on the railing, he declares, "You don't trust me? Is that what this is about? Maybe you're right; maybe /you/ shouldn't. But this is different. I thought you knew me a little better than to... to judge me so harshly like this. You know what I always regret? Going to you in the first place. I'll never do the right thing by you, I know what you'll tell me every time, but I still do it anyway. Go running straight to you when something happens, good or bad. You're right about one thing, though: I do care too much about your opinion."

Tirya looks a little stricken at all the fuss and then begins to slip towards a quick exit. "I was wrong to come here," she says harshly, sounding about ready to sob again. The girl abandons the mugs and her unemptied wine and makes for the ladder, attempting to flee the situation before it gets ugly.

Eadranth> I bespoke Taminyth with << My rider is worried about yours again. He wants me to tell you he will be by later, when he finishes here. >>

Dragon> Eadranth senses that Taminyth's voice is calm and patient. <>

Tirya has left.

K'tag's arms, limp at their sides, slowly rises to his chest as Sh'drian speaks, face hardening back into something a little more akin to his usual self. "How is this different, Sh'drian? Explain it to me. You wanted something. You did not consider that it might be wrong, so you went out and got it. Every time I believe you have changed, you do something that shows to me in grave, grave detail that you are you and that nothing ever changes with you. Ever. Ev..." Tirya is already well along in her retreat before K'tag finally has the good sense to shut up, and he whirls around, barking out as though for her to stop. "Tirya!" But she does not. "... Tirya!" A little more pleading this time. The brownrider sighs, his reserves failing, his exhaustion sinking in, and he turns his entire body in that direction. Away from Sh'drian. Head goes into his hand, and he remains quiet until Sh'drian speaks.

Sh'drian glances up quickly as Tirya exits, watching her abrupt departure with obvious worry. When she's gone, he closes his eyes, sighs, and slides down to a seat on the floor on the platform. His legs dangle over the edge, fingers tangled in the rope railing. His eyes remain on the ocean to the west, still painted pink by the last edges of the sun. "It's different," he says simply, numbly. "It's different because... it's /her/. /You/ should understand. /You/ have Rajazad. /You/ have changed."

K'tag squeezes his eyes shut the moment Sh'drian starts to speak, as though bracing himself for a hit that does not come - or, at least, comes in the form of soft-spoken words. His eyes open, and when he turns, he makes certain his facade is up, his poker face is on. Fear? Him? Never. "Sh'drian," he starts, as though leading into another one of his disapproving lectures, but he goes nowhere with it. He watches the man against the backdrop of the land, arms tight over his chest, simply not moving for half a minute or more. With a gentle sigh, he steps forward, taking a place a few feet from Sh'drian on the railings. "... I have not changed, Sh'drian. If I had, I would be able to stay mad at you for more than two minutes." Not spoken with humor. "... Just... tell me, Sh'drian. Is that the first thought that honestly ran through your head? Out there, at the copse, Aidryth and Eadranth, when Taminyth told us C'ryn was gone. Was that truly it, Sh'drian? 'C'ryn is gone, now Tirya is all mine?'" A pained look toward the bronzerider, eager for his reply.

"You've changed," maintains Sh'drian, still not meeting K'tag's eyes. "That was never my thought," he then says earnestly, finally turning to look at K'tag with wide blue eyes. "I was worried about her. I didn't know what to think, except that I couldn't just leave here there, like that. And last night..." He shakes his head. "I was wrong to think you'd understand. You don't understand us at all."

K'tag turns hurriedly away from Sh'drian when the bronzerider glances his way, leaning onto the rope railing as he glides a glance to the floor by his side quietly. He inhales twice, lets it out twice, unable to muster the words to say. "... I'm sorry, Shad." There, it's out, he's said it, and almost submissively he drops down onto the seat of his pants, slipping his legs over the side. "I don't know what to think any more. I know she's different for you. Shards, I say it every time we meet. Of course I don't understand you. I will never understand you. You know that."

"You don't understand why I had to go see her, and you don't understand what happened when I got there. You think it's all just about the sex, and finally getting her and beating C'ryn. It's not," Sh'drian presses forward, shaking his head. "When Margan... taunted me about her--told me lies about... visiting her, consoling her, because I wasn't there for her--I panicked and went to see her. I didn't know what else to do." He pauses, licking dry lips and cutting his eyes back away from the brownrider. "We talked. It was nice. We haven't done that--just talked, without getting in a fight or, or something--in turns. Maybe ever. And I told her... I told her what I should have told her a long time ago."

K'tag leans back onto his hands now, listening attentively but only occasionally glancing to Sh'drian as he speaks, prefering instead to watch ahead. "... I know I am at fault for that, Sh'drian," K'tag admits quietly, shifting weight as he runs one now-dirty hand through his hair. "... It has so often been just about the sex for you. I expect it so strongly. I expected it from this. I don't understand you." Looking now at his lap, still leaning back onto his arms, he inhales quietly to speak, holds it for a good six seconds, then lets it out with a frown.

Sh'drian nods slowly, turning to watch K'tag for a moment before glancing again to the water, much like the other man does. "It has been," he admits. "That's what it always was before, you know? It was what I wanted." He rubs the back of his neck tiredly. "Things change. I have changed. What I want... it's different now, than what it used to be. And I only just realized it."

K'tag frowns as he listens to Sh'drian's words, bringing a hand up to scratch at his shoulder before lifting both hands, grabbing the railing - though not to stand. "... I believe I know what you mean," he agrees at last, though it seems to hurt him inside to do it. Why it does that, exactly, is unclear at best. Slowly, the man's eyes close, and he breathes in, letting free one gentle sigh. "... It... it is difficult for me to ask, Sh'drian, my friend, but you are only half of my concern here. Tirya. Do you... genuinely... believe that this is best for her? Not what she wants, but what she needs?" The question is very honestly spoken; not a trap, not even a rhetorical point. Just a question.

Sh'drian hesitates. "I don't know," he finally admits, resting his forehead against the railing. "I don't know. I think... if she wants it..." He trails off, eyes flicking closed in hurt. "I don't think I can leave now. She needs me--she said--And I need her. It's... Last night, everything was so perfect. It was like a harper's tale. All the pieces of my life finally fell right. I've never felt like that before."

K'tag cannot help but turn to face Sh'drian at this point, shoulders low, head canted lightly to one side as he watches the bronzerider's pain - not a common sight at all. The brownrider inhales deeply here, through his nose, holding it for a few moments. Movements jerky, slow, he grabs the railing and pulls himself up to his boots, pausing just a moment longer before padding over a few steps closer to Sh'drian. The rider takes one knee and, if Sh'drian allows, reaches out to place a hand on the weyrleader's shoulder. "I know it means nothing to you, Sh'drian, but very well. I trust you. I trust you to back away if you know it will hurt her, I trust you to place her before yourself at all times." The emphasis on his words is faint, but noticable.

Sh'drian doesn't resist K'tag's comforting gesture, eyes opening and cutting toward K'tag. "I will," he says simply, raising his head to face the brownrider. He offers a smile, sad smile. "But what about you and Rajazad? You still haven't satified me about that," he ventures, attempting to change the subject.

"... Very well," K'tag replies, a whisper of a response to Sh'drian's agreement. The hand withdraws, a little jerkily, immediately rising up to run through his head and scratch at the back of his neck, maybe a touch embarrassed by his forwardness. "Oh, ah... It is quite a relief to take a woman under the sheets of my own free will and not wake up full of regrets, I must say," he replies with forced humor, even throwing on a rather uncharacteristic laugh following his words. It's a weak attempt to lighten the mood, or perhaps simply to take some emphasis off of his next words, giving him less reason to be nervous by saying them. "... She is all I think about. I love her so much. I suppose we always have." Any comment about the similarities between himself and Sh'drian are implied, and a hand comes up to rub at his arm.

Sh'drian just... blinks at that awkward joke. "K'tag... don't," he finally says, shaking his head. "Just... no." He seems more amused than he cares to let on, though, to judge by the upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. He falls silent for a moment, not knowing quite what to say in response to the brownrider's latter words. Finally, he tries again, "I saw Zora a while back. She, ah, told me about..." He trails off with a shrug.

"It did not come out right, did it?" K'tag inquires with his hand scratching his neck, now not having a force a smile at himself. It comes naturally. He will glance to the side here, his hand coming down and slipping into his pocket. "... About the child," he finishes for Sh'drian, a little hard, shaking his head slowly. "I do not know what I am going to do about that. About her. Warlin is daft in the head and Zora is at a loss, and I am... I do not know. To place Zora ahead of myself... it would be to place her in front of Rajazad. Do you understand what I mean?" Slowly, he turns from the bronzerider to step toward the railing, looking out into the darkness.

Sh'drian shakes his head. "No, it didn't. You're not very good at jokes, especially sexual ones," remarks Sh'drian with forced lightness. Sobering his tone again, he frowns, glancing at K'tag askance. "Warlin? Ah. That explains some of what I heard, I think. What does it matter, really? Zora can raise a kid by herself; lots of women do it, anyway. Or she could foster it out or something. She doesn't need you there, getting in the way. You'd probably make things worse for her." He pauses. "Kids are a lot of trouble. I don't know what to do about Cyrra."

K'tag finally ends up chuckling a bit at Sh'drian's response, bringing a hand up from the railing to press against his forehead, shaking his head slowly. "Very well, my friend, I shall resume playing my traditional sober self," he replies, though his voice only grows solemn as his following words. "... Aye. I have a similar dilemma with Rajazad, who has a child by T'hvan. I simply... I do not know. The thought of bringing a child of my own into this world and simply pretending he does not live is abhorrent. Ever since Benvi..." Whatever he was going to say trails into silence here, and he swallows audibly, leaning onto the rail, looking out.

"Since Benvi lost hers," Sh'drian supplies for K'tag. "I know. You don't have to go that far, though. You can still see it sometimes: special occasions, maybe, and birthdays. Just... you know." He shrugs. A frown tugs at his mouth again upon mention of T'hvan and Rajazad's child. "At least she never really cared about him," he says mutedly, looking away.

"... 'Twas all T'hvan's fault I even told her in the first place," K'tag replies after a moment, craning his neck to the side as he glances to the bronzerider. "He... well. He walked up to her, gave her a flower, and said... ah... 'I know K'tag loves you, Rajazad, but I love you more.' Then he kissed her and left, and... You know, even during our worst fights, when verbal attacks would turn to physical, I do not think I was ever as scared as I was at that moment." It's a bit of a babble, spoken without much union between thoughts, and he shifts off into an uncomfortable silence following. If Sh'drian hesitates to reply, the brownrider may even mumble, "I am sorry", only adding to the awkwardness.

Sh'drian, with a wry smile, cocks his head at that. "It's a scary moment," he agrees, "even without T'hvan there making things worse, like always." He hesitates. "I don't know how I ever managed. There was just this sense of, 'I have to do this, right now, because this is it. I won't ever get another chance to say it'. I never... thought I'd do that--even be at the place where that was an option, a possibility."

"I should say," K'tag mumbles in response, sliding down slightly closer to the rail, a hand sliding up to scratch at his back. He listens in silence to the rest of Sh'drian's words, posture slouched, not looking to the older man but listening to every word. "... I understand. I never thought I would - shards, twenty five turns, and this is my first true relationship - but I do. The fear of... telling her is overcome by the fear of knowing you will lose her before you even had her. ... Aidryth was surprised I did not faint." There's a brief pause, and he turns to glance at Sh'drian - but something else catches his eye instead. "... Tirya left the wine."

"Eadranth was too wrapped up in cuddling with Taminyth and wondering if this meant he could keep the baby to worry about me," Sh'drian notes dryly. "I'm almost twenty-six. Shards, but that makes me feel old, you know? Too many teenage candidates running around underfoot, I think. In a few more turns, I'll be thirty. /Thirty/. And what have I done with my life? Not much." He shakes his head, a frown etching itself into his features--until K'tag makes that observation. Immediately, Sh'drian brightens. "She did!" he says triumphantly, sliding across the floor of the platform to where Tirya left the bottle. He picks it up and gives it a slosh, smirking. "Now where'd I--oh, there," he says, sighting his mug. Grabbing it up and refilling it, he queries, "She won't mind if we put it to good use, I'm sure. Here, get you some more." He offers the bottle to K'tag generously.

K'tag smiles a little at words of Eadranth, holding it in for just a moment before laughing just a bit. "Come now. You have left a world of peace to enter a world of desolation and have firm control over an entire weyr of people. I should think that counts for something. Besides. By thirty..." Anything more he has to say, he bites off at the end, smiling once more at Sh'drian's enthusiasm for the alcohol. "... Um, all right," he complies, adding in a mumble "Why not?" as he picks his mug off the floor, accepts the bottle from the bronzerider, fills up his mug, and hands it back. Not drinking just yet.

Sh'drian eyes K'tag, downing his mug in a few big gulps. "Firm control, uh-huh. When the residents are starting fights with me, my wingleaders are slapping me, and my assistant stewards are throwing me off the docks, among other things. Give me that back." He reaches for the bottle again to refill his glass before prompting, "By thirty... what?"

K'tag watches partially in horror, partially in admiration as Sh'drian slugs down his wine mug as though it were water. His own gentle sips seem utterly timid by comparison. He'll hand back the bottle with a frown, a reply coming moments later. "Perhaps... they simply need more time to adjust to you as a weyrleader," he suggests, smile totally helpless, knowing all too well that's not the case. Perhaps just solely to impress Sh'drian, he rears his head back and takes a big glug of wine, following it with a cough and a gently spoken "Ouch". "Well. By thirty, you may have children of your own, a weyrm... ... well. A lover. ... What more can one do with one's life, hm?"

Sh'drian gives K'tag a scathing, you-don't-really-believe-that look. "Uh-huh. Right." He takes another long sip of wine before setting the glass beside him with a satisfied 'aah'. "Children of my own. What a thrilling thought. Eadranth will be so happy," he says flatly. "What about you? What are you going to do with your life now?" Almost wistfully: "I can't help but think it might be a little boring now. Some part of me liked the drama. Some part of me didn't want to be satisfied."

K'tag puts on a wry smile for Sh'drian's words, though what in particular amused him he does not say. Taking a drink from his mug, he finally sets himself down on the floor - though cross-legged, not letting his legs go over the side. "... Somehow, Sh'drian, no matter how deep we grow with Rajazad and Tirya, I do not think our lives will ever be boring. I, personally, am looking forward to a bit more peace and solitude from here on out." The words end almost wihout confidence, and he frowns very gently, pausing for a moment before taking another drink of the wine. "... I suppose I shall learn from Rajazad further about self-defense and challenge you one day. If I may land a single blow, I think I should be so content with myself I would be satisfied to die." Followed by a gentle laugh. The wine seems to be sinking in already.

Sh'drian smirks at that, brows arching in challenge. "Oh, really? You know, Tirya's not so bad herself; maybe the four of us should have a little tournament some day?" he replies, leaning forward slightly in interest. This time, he doesn't bother refilling his glass: he takes a swig straight from the bottle. "We'll see, I guess. Maybe you and Rajazad can have some brats, too. I'd laugh at you."

Without a mug of wine in his hand, K'tag might have scoffed at Sh'drian's idea; now, with a mind laced by it, it sounds increasingly enticing. "I have seen Tirya for myself, and indeed, I should think she is nearly Rajazad's rival. I cannot see Rajazad backing from a challenge... and..." He inhales deeply for a moment, sighing gently - but it is not a depressed sound. "I suppose, after this night, Tirya will be more than eager for the opportunity to hit me. And I do not blame her." Down goes the rest of the wine, and he reaches out for the bottle to refill his cup. "... I would not wish for more than one child, but one would be... rather nice. A girl, perhaps."

Sh'drian snorts disbelievingly. "Tirya could take Rajazad any day," he defends his girl. "We'll just see about that." Smirk. Then, tilting his head slightly and (after another sip from it) offering the bottle back to K'tag, he remarks, "Just one? Kind of... Nevermind. A girl would have you wrapped around her finger. I think I'd rather have a boy--one that'd actually run around and do stuff outside and be, well, like me." Pause. "Not that I'd actually, you know, do much with any kid." He falls silent a moment, then adds, "Vin's kind of like that now. Actually, she's about perfect: a girl willing to gamble and fight and let me teach her all sorts of stuff."

"Is that so?" K'tag replies, faint smile growing slightly at the sight of Sh'drian's smirk. "Not in a thousand turns," K'tag responds, but he is willing to keep it at that. He pours himself a small drink, downs it all, and fills the mug up to the brim, setting the bottle back upon the ground. "Oh, wonderful," he notes as he sips, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he shakes his head. "I should wonder if our children will have the same on-and-off relationship we ourselves have. I should hope not," he adds, seemingly amused by the prospect. "... So that is the sort of girl Vin is? I would not have guessed. The one time I saw her, she struck me as very..." He pauses for a moment here, squinting something fierce at Sh'drian as his mind searches for the perfect answer. "... Serene, I suppose."

"Serene?" Sh'drian sneers at the thought. "Hardly. When did you meet her, anyway? She's... very different. We play dragonpoker, and I'm teaching her how to fight." Pause. "I think she wants me to teach her my... other skills, too, but I can't, you know?" A shrug follows while he mulls this over, interspersed with more wine. "Our kids? Shards. What if--" his eyes widening "--what if you had a boy and I had a girl, or you had a girl and I had a boy--whatever--what if our kids ended up... together?"

"It was at the last graduation," K'tag responds, lifting a hand as though to wave it off as a fluke. "... Perhaps she is different in public. Other skills? I cannot say I understand what you mean by that. And," the brownrider adds, eyebrows narrowing slightly, "I am not certain if I wish to." So does he understand or doesn't he? Down the hatch goes another nice chug of wine, one that almost doesn't make it down after the word "together" is dropped. "Perish the thought!" K'tag exclaims, gritting his teeth together tightly as he shakes his head. "... To have my child exposed to such... a... ... dangerous lifestyle is not an outcome I particularly granted. ... Although perhaps mine would be a good influence," he adds, no longer quite so opposed.

Sh'drian arches his brows. "What, you don't think my kid's good enough for your kid?" he challenges. Then, lightening, he notes, "I'm sure it wouldn't happen. Your kid would be so... dull, and mine would be... high-strung, to say the last. And probably stuck-up and spoiled. What else would you expect from my kid? And Tirya's, too. We'd be sharding /awful/ parents." He grimaces slightly and wards off the thought with more wine. "Tirya's not going to be happy with me tonight if I show up so terribly drunk," he remarks, eyeing the bottle and taking another heedless sip.

K'tag actually laughs slightly at Sh'drian's response, shaking his head briskly. "Smart enough, perhaps, and strong, I do not doubt, but I should never hope to consider any of your offspring 'good'. Though perhaps you say you would be a poor parent now... you never do know. Being there beside Tirya... nine months of pregnancy, and labor... You may very well change your current mindset in an instant." There's a tiny smile to follow his words, a flicker that fades, and he leans back onto his one, using the other to sip from his mug. "Shards, just sleep here if you think she will be a problem. I am not certain I could walk a line back to my cottage at this point," he adds.

Sh'drian eyes K'tag uncertainly. "You think so?" he queries. "I... don't know. That might be enough to make me, I don't know, want the kid or something, but I don't know that it'd make me a good parent." He shrugs. "I think I've changed my mind. A girl might be nice. We could name her... name her... I really suck at this," he announces after a moment's hard thought. He shakes his wine-addled head and glances at the floor of the platform. "I don't think so. I'll take a nice, comfortable bed with Tirya over this and you any night. Besides, Eadranth already told her I'd come by later. She's probably kinda upset with you, anyway." Pause. "If you want, I can walk you back to your place first, though. It's a long way back to the ground, though." He peers warily over the edge of the platform toward the ground.

K'tag squints very slightly at Sh'drian as he fumbles over a name, licking his lips slightly as though considering, perhaps with more intensity than is necessary. "You could... name her Shirtya," he notes, seeming very amused by himself; the name is followed by a few small chuckles and a hiccup. "But if you want the kid, maybe you can be a good parent. Or at least a decent one. That might be enough." His words are beginning to slur together a bit, and he clears his throat slightly as he starts to start - nearly tripping over himself as he does. "I... think... I might be able to make it home," he expresses to the bronzerider, gripping tightly onto the railing as he straightens his back to full height. The other hand still holds the wine mug. "Say, do you think I should get something for her to make up for... drinking her wine, upsetting her, and everything?"

"Shirtya? And I suck at this?" scoffs Sh'drian, shaking his head. He takes another sip of wine and rethinks his mocking of the name. "You know, that might not be so bad. Maybe I'll suggest it to her. And... a gift? I dunno. You can get me more wine, though?" His smirk is a bit besotted by now. "Maybe you should just tell me how horribly sorry you are about everything, and I'll tell her and make it up to her?" Smirk becomes more leer at that. Then, helpfully, he adds, "You and Rajazad could name yours... Kalzad. Rajatag. Rakalatagamazag." The last, he just keeps stumbling over, adding a few more letters syllable by slurred syllable.

"Rakatakakalazag?" K'tag repeats after Sh'drian, shooting him a look as though the bronzerider is the inane one - never mind that K'tag is so drunk that he couldn't even properly recreate it. "Rajatag is pretty. So is Raaajatag..a. Rajataga. Doesn't that sound pretty?" Down the hatch goes another glug of wine. "More wine. Morwine. Maybe I could have a kid named that," he adds, his voice actually quite serious - as though he is genuinely considering this. "... Morwine is wonderful. But do you think Tirya will be inclined to accept my apology? She might say... you know... 'K'tag, why did you do that tonight' - I mean, this night, it'll be whatever night when she says it- 'I hate you, why did you bring me wine as a gift instead of...' Instead of whatever she actually wants. You know?" He leans heavily on the railing now, pondering this turn of events.

Sh'drian ponders this a moment. "I don't think she really wants anything from you," he points out. "But wine is always good. If she doesn't want it, I'm taking it." Then: "You've got it all wrong, by the way. It's Rakajazetagizad. Idiot." He subsides into mutterings of how silly K'tag must be. "I'll make a really good apology on your behalf," the bronzerider finally says. "She'll accept it from me. Besides, she's probably not... Well, actually, she's probably squalling back in her cottage, but it's not your... Well, it is, but anyway, I'll make a good apology and offer lots of wine. That fixes everything, right?" Sage nod.

"Well... maybe... maybe we could call her Raka for short. Raka. Raka raka rah-ka, raka raka rah-ka..." K'tag mumbles gently, tapping out a little beat against his thigh with one hand, drinking constantly from his wine with the other. "Wine is good, and apologies... Just be sure to say I'm sorry and not you, okay? Like... you know. I would not like it if instead of... instead of, 'K'tag's sorry', you said, 'I'm sorry'. ... I being you, I mean, meaning you're sorry when you're not. Wait. Are you?" The hand that was tapping his thigh comes up to scratch at the side of his head in confusion, peering over to Sh'drian for the answer.

"I don't have anything to be sorry for," Sh'drian declares, pointing one finger at K'tag's chest. "You're the one that made her run off and cry, remember? Raka... That's cute. What if you have a boy, though? Would you have to call it... Rake? Rako? I don't know. This is really confusing. Maybe we should let Raja-whatsit and Tirya name the kids instead." He can't even get out the bluerider's name by this point. "Gimme that wine back. I think I almost had a coherent thought there," the bronzerider only half-jokes, grabbing for the wine bottle and glugging down its contents. He gives it an experimental shake after he's through. "This isn't going to last much longer," is his mournful observation.

"Raja-zac-," K'tag finishes for Sh'drian, starting to roll his eyes, pausing, then correcting himself. "Zad. Rajazad. I wonder where she is right now. I'm up for som..." It's not a sense of inhibition that keeps K'tag from continuing that thought; it's a distraction. "Hey, hey, don't drink all the wine, I want some too... ohh." And he looks at how little remains, then peers down into his mug sadly. If Sh'drian is still capable of seeing straight, he might find the pitiful sad look K'tag shoots into his wine rather puppy-like. And extremely pathetic. "Hey... hey, Shad, um, I have more at my house! I... I... ... I don't actually, but maybe I have some there anyway?"

"You up for some what? Gonna get her between those sheets again?" Sh'drian giggles--yes, giggles--at the though. "Shards. That's a good idea. I'm glad one of us thought of it. I mean, you can have your Raja...person, and I'll take Tirya. That oughtta cheer her up, doncha think?" He smirks proudly, then peers at the remainder of the wine dejectedly. "I'm gonna be sorry when this is gone, except not, because it'll mean we've dranken... drunk? it all. Yeah."

"It's drinked, Sh'drian," K'tag replies after a moment, giving the words careful thought. "And good. Good. I'd rather have Rajjjjie over you or Tirya or you or something, maybe. No, no, definitely, but maybe. But not under the sheets, I think, because I sleep... oh, those sheets. Hehehe." The words make sense in his own head; that much is clear. "Where's the exit? I don't see it. I mean, one exit is we can hop over this... rope thing and fall. I mean, I'll do it if you do it?"

"You'd rather have /her/ over /me/?" Sh'drian actually looks hurt. He's really drunk by this point. "Well, I don't want you, either." Sulkily, he folds his arms over his chest, but it doesn't last long. "The sheets? Who needs those, anyway? I'd do Tirya shardin' anywhere," he remarks with a drunken leer. Then, peering toward the railing, Sh'drian makes the supreme effort to stand, wobbling comparatively little. He clenches the railing tightly for support as he peers over it. "I'll do it," he volunteers; already, he's swinging a leg over the railing to do just that. "You coming? Not scared, are you, Tag?"

"Oh, you are talking about that," K'tag replies sadly, bringing his free hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. "Doing, I mean. I thought maybe you meant sleeping with... but, like, sleeping. Like... sleeping. With your eyes closed. I mean, you can do it with eyes closed, but... I mean... you know?" He filters off into quiet as Sh'drian steps over the railing, narrowing his eyes fiercely as he's hit with a sudden thought. But he takes a long, long drink of wine before he does, finishing it off; he sets the mug back down now, upside down. "Is it safe? ... I know! I know I know I know I know, I'll go down that -" Point to the rope ladder. "And then I'll see what happens when you fall. If you get hurt I'll come back up and tell you not to fall and then we'll find another exit, kay?"

Sh'drian eyes K'tag, clinging precariously to the wrong side of the railing. "Sleeping? Naw, man. Who wants to do that?" Pause. "Without getting some first, at least. Bet I can beat you down. Ready? One, two--Augh!" Flailing wildly, Sh'drian tumbles at last from his perch, landing with a muffled thump on a clump of bushes. "Ow. What're you thinking, K'tag? You should've stopped me," he calls from somewhere within the plants. "I think I squashed something vital to my ana-tomy." He peers down at himself, wincing. Fortunately, the platform's not too high, and he's drunk enough not to feel it until morning.

From up on the platform, the meek little head of K'tag peeps out over the edge, and he peers down at the form of Sh'drian through the darkness innocently. "... Uh... um, uh, maybe I should stay up here," he calls quietly, stricken with a sudden fear. After a few moments - with or without Sh'drian goading him along - he'll creep a little closer to the edge, and then, gripping it with both hands, will attempt to slide his legs over, hanging for a moment or two before he drops. Unfortunately, his motor skills aren't exactly operation at this point in time, and his fingers grip for no more than an instant. Down he comes from the platform, and while he lands on his feet he doesn't exactly stay on them. His balance gives way and with a "Ug-guh-buh!" of surprised, K'tag stumbles into what must be the muddiest patch of gunk around. Face first, too.

Getting laboriously to his feet again, Sh'drian inspects the worst of his injuries: a few cuts and scrapes from the bushes and the ground. "Tirya's gonna wonder what I was doing, drunk and rollin' around in the bushes with you, K'tag," he observes mildly, peering over at the muddy brownrider. "Ew. Is your aim no better than that? Rajazad's gonna have to hose you down before you two get between those sheets."

"Unless... maybe that's her thing?" Sh'drian cocks his head curiously.

K'tag pulls himself out of the mud with a sputter, glaring down at it quite offensively. Peeling himself out of the gunk, he rises to his boots, nearly tripping twice as he does. "Just tell her the truth," K'tag mutters, seeming to give more attention to wiping himself clean. Wiping his quite muddy body with his quite muddy hands, of course. "We were fooling around and got a little dirty. I'm sure she'll understand. Say, I don't know, say you wish she could have joined us so she'll know you were thinking of her. Um, which way's home?"

Sh'drian picks an entirely random direction. "That way," he tells K'tag, helpfully pointing. "And I'm... that way." He points in the opposite direction now. "So... I'll tell her me 'n' you were foolin' around and... That's a good idea. The truth always works. And... Yeah. I'll tell her she should have been here, and maybe next time she can fool around with the both of us." He nods, that decision decided upon. "Are you going home now? I gotta go talk to her, I think, and 'splain all this." He gestures at himself and K'tag then to indicate their current states.

K'tag peers out into the water visible through the moonlight when Sh'drian points it out, gurgling, "Are you sure? I don't live in the water. Wait..." And he closes his eyes for a moment, giving these words great, great thought. Eventually, he shakes his head. "No, I'm right. I don't. I live... somewhere... Um, I'm dirty." Grabbing a hold of his collar, he yanks off his shirt, slinging it over his shoulder. "My pants are getting itchy. I want to go home." It's almost a pout, but he doesn't move yet. He scratches his bare chest with a frown.

"So go already," Sh'drian declares in exasperation. "Or take off your pants, too. The Weyrgirls might get a kick out of that, you know. They'd take you home--with them." He smirks at the brownrider and takes a few meant-to-be-deliberate steps. "I'm going, anyway. I wanna go home, too, and see my... Tirya. My Tirya. Night, K'tag." Wobbling, he sets out, stumbling and weaving his way around the majority of the trees.

"If I took off my pants, people would walk me home?" K'tag asks, almost excited, not hesitating a moment longer before kicking off his shoes (setting his socks into wet mud, of course), undoing his pants, and yanking them right off. Thankfully, he has his smallclothes on, but it's still a little peculiar. Grabbing his boots in one hand and clinging to his dirty shirt and pants with the other, he turns around, blinks confusedly, picks some random direction, and starts to walk. "Oh," he calls over his shoulder. "Night, K'tag! ... I mean, Sh'drian!"

Sh'drian throws up a hand in a parting wave, dodging past one particularly malicious tree on his way home.