Risk
Location: Cassiel and Chiavelth's Weyr
Time: Afternoon on Day 4, Month 2, Turn 3
Players: Cassiel, J'lor, Chiavelth, Vellath
Scene: J'lor relays Miniyal's offer, sort of, and Cassiel is, as ever, floored by the bluerider's stupidity.
In the heavy rain, those on the island who can have retreated to some cover. Chiavelth, unfortunately, is not one of those to whom cover is available, but the green seems unconcerned by the rain that thunders down on her hide as she lies on the ledge, just the end of her tail spared its assault. Within, Cassiel sits on her pallet, a wooden board serving as desk for the few hides that have lasted these many decades as she pores quietly over them.
Vellath announces his intentions with a courteous We wish to visit, moments before he actually wings into view, sodden rider perched atop him without bothering with straps. He angles down onto the ledge, stilling only long enough for J'lor to slide free before the blue pads over to Chiavelth. He seats himself beside her, one swirling wing lifting and stretching wide to provide a living overhang for the smaller green. Tendrils of smugness at his own level of clever trickle from him to her.
J'lor, feeling less clever, only lingers in the doorway, one hand slicking strands of sodden hair back and away from his face. "Cassiel?" He sees her sitting there, so the question must have some other reason. "Are you busy? Could I come in?"
Chiavelth huffs out a heavy breath at the surcease of rain, curling into Vellath's body without ceremony. Her rider, less accepting of arrivals these days, tenses at the first call, though she relaxes somewhat at the recognition. "Yeah, come on in out of the rain," she says with a nod, a faint smile flickering as she pushes up to lean against the cave wall that serves as a headboard, setting desk and hides aside. "Was just...looking over some old things. What brings you out in this weather?"
"I'm going to drip on your floor," the bluerider warns as he slips inside and proceeds to do just that. Out on the ledge, there is a pleased rumble from Vellath as his version of heroism earn him a snuggly green. Rain is good!
J'lor walks towards Cassiel's pallet, but only seats himself on the ground in front of it, bare feet on the stone, knees in the air, elbows resting on said knees. Instead of answering her question he asks, "What things were you rereading?" Dark eyes flick towards worn hides.
Cassiel shrugs one shoulder, pausing to stretch it a little bit, rubbing at it with her other hand. "Aches in the damp," she murmurs in explanation, drawing in a breath to reach for the top hide. "Just some of the things I packed with me before we left. Some tracts on rhetoric, a few about politics, relationships between ruler and ruled. Things..." She sighs. "Things I used to hope could be used to make a final case."
"Don't give up on them yet," J'lor offers with a faint grin that struggles to hang on when Cassiel mentions her shoulder. "I...the mainland contact I told you about before, Issa, came back for another visit. Tialith flew at High Reaches and R'vain's Ruvoth caught. I don't know if you remember him." His fingers shift, wiggling a little before they settle again. "Someone's spoken to the Masterharper." His eyes lower. "He says, if a victim were to come forward, he would pursue S'lien."
Cassiel snorts, though it doesn't quite cover the tremor that goes through her at the name of the Telgari Weyrleader. "So they say, J'lor. Maybe they even would. Or maybe they say that so that the victim /will/ come forward, and they can try to get more information from her," she says in a low, gravelly voice. "Or maybe they're actually feeling generous and they /will/ go after him. But they can't afford to just let a 'criminal' go, either. So they'll punish me, too, for coming back. What do you think that punishment will be, J'lor?"
"I don't know," J'lor says after all of that, "but it's Roa who's decided to take up the mantle. I trust her. I don't see why they'd ask you to come if only to trap you again. What would be the point? They said nothing during the trials. They were careful to keep it quiet." He shifts slightly so his hands can come together and his fingers can lace. "Summoning an exile just to capture one seems a messy way to go about it, especially when they don't want the people to know of certain...methods. But, maybe you're right. If you go, we'll find out. If you go, I'm coming with you."
"You're crazy, J'lor," Cassiel says flatly. "I didn't want to go get the boys. I didn't want to bring the boys back. We saw how that turned out." Defensively, she crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "What do you think they'll do, J'lor? Apologize? Say they're sorry they exiled us and started giving people the impression we were less than human? Hey, thanks for showing up to help us put away the Weyrleader - I'll be interested to see just how they do that, by the way - now go on back to the island? No, wait, stay here with us, we'll forgive you for what we exiled you for a decade ago. /Think/ for once in your life, J'lor."
The bluerider tips up his chin, his jaw squaring. "She lived with us," he reminds Cassiel gently. "She's my daughter and she lived with us and she thought you hung both the moons, Cassiel. So perhaps, just this once, I am the one thinking properly." He puffs out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and then J'lor silent for a moment, the only noise the *plip plip* of water droplets falling from his gathered hair to the stone floor. "I don't know how they plan to do it. I know they've asked for this before they can."
"Not Roa, J'lor," Cassiel sighs, exasperated. "Not that a disillusioned young person isn't a dangerous thing. I know all too well just what people can imagine when their heroes are shown to be all too human and imperfect." She drags a hand through her hair, looking out towards the rain with her fingers tangled in the curls. "There's nothing good that can come of this, J'lor. At the very best they deprive him of being Weyrleader and send me back here. There's nothing else they can do."
"Perhaps not. You would, then, let him continue to be Weyrleader and do nothing at all." J'lor leans forward, readying to push himself up and into a stand. "I will tell Issa, when she returns, that we will not allow you to go. Thank you for your time."
"J'lor..." Cassiel looks over, grimacing. "How much longer do you think he can remain Weyrleader anyhow? Ten turns? Fifteen? I was a safe target. One he knew he couldn't be punished for. What do you think can be accomplished by this?" She presses her lips together, shaking with the effort of not showing any more fear than that. "Get me some assurance, J'lor. Some assurance that I'm not walking right into the same thing, and that they have a plan for if they find him guilty."
"We have been here for eleven turns, Cassiel. Much can happen in that time. Do you suppose you are the only person S'lien has ever encountered that was a 'safe' target? Do you suppose you will be the only one he will encounter for the next ten or fifteen turns?" J'lor does stand now, but it is only to sink down, soggy clothes and all, onto the pallet besides the greenrider. "I hope that we can stop a villain from ruling a weyr. I can ask for more information when Issa comes, and that will mean waiting for her to return, yet again." His hand lifts, tentatively, to settle on her shoulder. "I'll keep you safe, Cass," he whispers. "I promise."
Cassiel twitches at the touch, though a pained expression crosses her features when she does. "I'm sorry, J'lor," she murmurs, reaching up to hold his hand on her shoulder, apologetic. "I just...I've been burned too many times with them. I played the hero too many times and lost the fight. I can't just keep walking into the traps."
"We are living in a trap," J'lor murmurs. At the flinch, his fingers begin to withdraw, but Cassiel's hand keeps them there. "Things are changing there, in ways that are different than before. I wish I did not have to ask this of you. I wish there had been no reason to ask." J'lor sighs softly, his head dipping down, chin angling toward his chest. "There is a new Lord of Nabol. The old one was overthrown, and now...the deposed one seems to be, perhaps, trying to get our attention. Derek sent someone to learn more."
Cassiel stiffens, leaning back and releasing his hand. "J'lor, you have got to be kidding me," she says, incredulous. "How can you say in one breath that things are changing, possibly for the better, and then in the next suggest that we throw in with the old guard? That we align ourselves with someone they already see as a criminal!"
"He's not a criminal," J'lor's hand lands in his lap, "...I don't think. He's just no longer a lord. He's living in a hold somewhere on the edge of Nabol's territory. Five Mines. He's been talking about change, and perhaps his own plight has made him sympathetic to ours. He's been gathering people to him. We have to leave. We have to go somewhere. Maybe this is the answer."
"They don't make you 'no longer a lord' because you're a nice guy, J'lor," Cassiel points out dryly. "They make you 'no longer a lord' because you do things they don't particularly like. Check with your mainland source first," she advises. "Find out what the official line and what the gossip are on why he was ousted before you decide to throw in with him."
"He was ousted," J'lor says with a small smile, "because he refused to pay tithe to High Reaches and the weyr would not, in return, cover Nabol. It was why we flew there. It was why the land was so dead beneath us. A meeting of the Lord Holders unseated him. Obviously, the man needs some improvement, but as he is the first invitation we have had in eleven turns, I do not think we can afford to dismiss it without, at least, learning what it is he wishes."
"J'lor," Cassiel groans, dropping back on the pallet, a hand in her hair again. "Would you just stop? Stop trying to go back there. They don't want us. They won't keep us. Just let it go and let us live in peace."
J'lor shakes her head a little. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "but I won't. "
Cassiel closes her eyes, letting out a long, heavy breath. "Why, J'lor?" she murmurs. "Why? There are bronzes. There's still Diya's queen. We're self-supporting now. We could stay out here forever, doing things our own way."
"Because we are not self-supporting. We stole from the mainland to manage enough leather for straps. We kidnapped -children- so that hatchlings could impress. That is not self-sufficient. We are either a small populous of people who will die when the last of our dragons do, or we are a growing people who will die when our needs exceed what this island can provide." J'lor studies the greenrider in thoughtful silence. "I know it's frightening. I know it's a risk. I believe it is worth it."
Cassiel reaches for her blanket, promptly pulling it over her face. "This is not a good idea, J'lor. I register my opinion that throwing in our lot with someone who's already been deposed is a bad plan. Wait until Roa can offer us an invitation. Wait until we find out if this trial for S'lien is a real possibility. If it is, maybe we can earn some trust. Maybe we don't have to do this the hard way, just the slow way."
J'lor is quiet for a long while before he says, very softly, "Aivey tried to kill her, you know. And she helped to convict E'sere. And Derek...he is not above using her to control me." He clears his throat. "I do not wish to settle at High Reaches."
"No," Cassiel corrects from beneath the blanket, "You don't wish to settle at High Reaches with Aivey and Derek and E'sere. I'm not particularly inclined to settle with them, either. But I'd rather not settle with them and settle somewhere we aren't likely to end up being killed for then settle with them in such a place."
"I can't just...leave them here. I can't abandon--...this was Derek's idea in part. It's his man doing reconnaissance." J'lor curls his fingers around the edge of the blanket and slowly, gently, tries to tug it down and away from Cassiel's face. "We're all in this together. Nabol is in High Reaches coverage area. It's a safe enough first step."
Cassiel peers over the edge of the blanket, looking weary. "I don't know why I keep telling you not to stick your hand in the tunnel snake burrow, J'lor," she finally sighs, head dropping back over the edge of the pallet. "You just stick it in anyhow."
"Perhaps it's because I have you to pull me out again," the bluerider teases. He lifts his head to look out at the ledge where the blue of Vellath's wing still covers Chiavelth. "She hasn't risen since you've been back," J'lor notes softly.
"'S my fault," Cassiel says quietly, unmoving. A soft, slow breath is drawn and released before she speaks again. "She needs to. Soon. I just...I'm not ready for it yet, and I'm sure that's part of what's stopping her. Not forever, though," she murmurs. "Not forever."
"I know," J'lor replies, lowering his voice to her faint tone. "I wish I could..." his jaw flexes and the statement remains unfinished.
"Wishing won't make it go away. And it wasn't him, anyhow." Cassiel drags a hand through her hair, then pushes up to a sitting position once again. "It'll pass eventually, or I'll learn to live with it. I'll have to, if only for Chiavelth."
"Perhaps what you need is, ah..." J'lor clears his throat, "I attempt to find a way to suggest this without it sounding horrible, but I'm not sure I can. Perhaps you need an experience that is neither a flight nor unpleasant," the bluerider offers, if a touch awkwardly. And then, with a faint and playful smirk, "Any fine fellow on the island strike your fancy?"
"You're right, there's no way for you to say that that doesn't sound like you being a man," Cassiel chuckles, drawing a knee up to her chest and pushing the hair back from her face. "Thank you, J'lor, but not now, I think. With my luck we'd get started and Chiavelth would go up and for the first time in however many years it's been, someone other than Vellath would catch her and some poor man would be left standing down there in the woods losing his mind," she laughs.
"Here now," J'lor lifts his chin and sniffs primly, eyes dancing. "You may insult me all you like, but leave poor Vellath out of it. Besides, not that I am usually in a state to notice such things, but I have a sneaking suspicion the others restrain themselves just a bit when Chiavelth goes." He studies the pair of dragons with a faint smile. "He's fond of her." But then the teasing gleam leaves his gaze and he asks, more solemnly, "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine," Cassiel promises, reaching over to give his hand a brief squeeze with a small smile. "We'll be fine. And I'll make sure you're around before I let her go up," she adds, smile deepening slightly at one corner.
"Well," the bluerider laughs gently. "We'd both appreciate that." He leans forward to, quickly, place a soft kiss on Cassiel's forehead before he rocks back and pushes to his feet. "I should check on the weyrlings. I'll tell Issa, when she's back, that we'll go if it's safe?" The way his voice tilts makes that last a question.
Cassiel tips her brow up to the kiss, though she hesitates a moment at the question before nodding. "Yes," she says quietly. "Get us a promise there will be no repercussions for me or for us and I'll go."
"All right." He studies her a moment longer, his mouth opening and breath drawn in as if he might say something more. But, no, lips close and J'lor only nods before turning toward the ledge. "Come on, my love," he chides as he pads towards the blue. "Enough chivalry for one afternoon. Time to go." Vellath gives a rumble of mild annoyance before the wing withdraws and he crouches so that his rider can climb aboard.
Chiavelth twists her neck under Vellath's for a moment, an affectionate caress, before allowing the blue to move away. Likewise, Cassiel offers a faint smile, lifting her hand in a wave, before going back to her earlier occupation.
Time: Afternoon on Day 4, Month 2, Turn 3
Players: Cassiel, J'lor, Chiavelth, Vellath
Scene: J'lor relays Miniyal's offer, sort of, and Cassiel is, as ever, floored by the bluerider's stupidity.
In the heavy rain, those on the island who can have retreated to some cover. Chiavelth, unfortunately, is not one of those to whom cover is available, but the green seems unconcerned by the rain that thunders down on her hide as she lies on the ledge, just the end of her tail spared its assault. Within, Cassiel sits on her pallet, a wooden board serving as desk for the few hides that have lasted these many decades as she pores quietly over them.
Vellath announces his intentions with a courteous We wish to visit, moments before he actually wings into view, sodden rider perched atop him without bothering with straps. He angles down onto the ledge, stilling only long enough for J'lor to slide free before the blue pads over to Chiavelth. He seats himself beside her, one swirling wing lifting and stretching wide to provide a living overhang for the smaller green. Tendrils of smugness at his own level of clever trickle from him to her.
J'lor, feeling less clever, only lingers in the doorway, one hand slicking strands of sodden hair back and away from his face. "Cassiel?" He sees her sitting there, so the question must have some other reason. "Are you busy? Could I come in?"
Chiavelth huffs out a heavy breath at the surcease of rain, curling into Vellath's body without ceremony. Her rider, less accepting of arrivals these days, tenses at the first call, though she relaxes somewhat at the recognition. "Yeah, come on in out of the rain," she says with a nod, a faint smile flickering as she pushes up to lean against the cave wall that serves as a headboard, setting desk and hides aside. "Was just...looking over some old things. What brings you out in this weather?"
"I'm going to drip on your floor," the bluerider warns as he slips inside and proceeds to do just that. Out on the ledge, there is a pleased rumble from Vellath as his version of heroism earn him a snuggly green. Rain is good!
J'lor walks towards Cassiel's pallet, but only seats himself on the ground in front of it, bare feet on the stone, knees in the air, elbows resting on said knees. Instead of answering her question he asks, "What things were you rereading?" Dark eyes flick towards worn hides.
Cassiel shrugs one shoulder, pausing to stretch it a little bit, rubbing at it with her other hand. "Aches in the damp," she murmurs in explanation, drawing in a breath to reach for the top hide. "Just some of the things I packed with me before we left. Some tracts on rhetoric, a few about politics, relationships between ruler and ruled. Things..." She sighs. "Things I used to hope could be used to make a final case."
"Don't give up on them yet," J'lor offers with a faint grin that struggles to hang on when Cassiel mentions her shoulder. "I...the mainland contact I told you about before, Issa, came back for another visit. Tialith flew at High Reaches and R'vain's Ruvoth caught. I don't know if you remember him." His fingers shift, wiggling a little before they settle again. "Someone's spoken to the Masterharper." His eyes lower. "He says, if a victim were to come forward, he would pursue S'lien."
Cassiel snorts, though it doesn't quite cover the tremor that goes through her at the name of the Telgari Weyrleader. "So they say, J'lor. Maybe they even would. Or maybe they say that so that the victim /will/ come forward, and they can try to get more information from her," she says in a low, gravelly voice. "Or maybe they're actually feeling generous and they /will/ go after him. But they can't afford to just let a 'criminal' go, either. So they'll punish me, too, for coming back. What do you think that punishment will be, J'lor?"
"I don't know," J'lor says after all of that, "but it's Roa who's decided to take up the mantle. I trust her. I don't see why they'd ask you to come if only to trap you again. What would be the point? They said nothing during the trials. They were careful to keep it quiet." He shifts slightly so his hands can come together and his fingers can lace. "Summoning an exile just to capture one seems a messy way to go about it, especially when they don't want the people to know of certain...methods. But, maybe you're right. If you go, we'll find out. If you go, I'm coming with you."
"You're crazy, J'lor," Cassiel says flatly. "I didn't want to go get the boys. I didn't want to bring the boys back. We saw how that turned out." Defensively, she crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "What do you think they'll do, J'lor? Apologize? Say they're sorry they exiled us and started giving people the impression we were less than human? Hey, thanks for showing up to help us put away the Weyrleader - I'll be interested to see just how they do that, by the way - now go on back to the island? No, wait, stay here with us, we'll forgive you for what we exiled you for a decade ago. /Think/ for once in your life, J'lor."
The bluerider tips up his chin, his jaw squaring. "She lived with us," he reminds Cassiel gently. "She's my daughter and she lived with us and she thought you hung both the moons, Cassiel. So perhaps, just this once, I am the one thinking properly." He puffs out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and then J'lor silent for a moment, the only noise the *plip plip* of water droplets falling from his gathered hair to the stone floor. "I don't know how they plan to do it. I know they've asked for this before they can."
"Not Roa, J'lor," Cassiel sighs, exasperated. "Not that a disillusioned young person isn't a dangerous thing. I know all too well just what people can imagine when their heroes are shown to be all too human and imperfect." She drags a hand through her hair, looking out towards the rain with her fingers tangled in the curls. "There's nothing good that can come of this, J'lor. At the very best they deprive him of being Weyrleader and send me back here. There's nothing else they can do."
"Perhaps not. You would, then, let him continue to be Weyrleader and do nothing at all." J'lor leans forward, readying to push himself up and into a stand. "I will tell Issa, when she returns, that we will not allow you to go. Thank you for your time."
"J'lor..." Cassiel looks over, grimacing. "How much longer do you think he can remain Weyrleader anyhow? Ten turns? Fifteen? I was a safe target. One he knew he couldn't be punished for. What do you think can be accomplished by this?" She presses her lips together, shaking with the effort of not showing any more fear than that. "Get me some assurance, J'lor. Some assurance that I'm not walking right into the same thing, and that they have a plan for if they find him guilty."
"We have been here for eleven turns, Cassiel. Much can happen in that time. Do you suppose you are the only person S'lien has ever encountered that was a 'safe' target? Do you suppose you will be the only one he will encounter for the next ten or fifteen turns?" J'lor does stand now, but it is only to sink down, soggy clothes and all, onto the pallet besides the greenrider. "I hope that we can stop a villain from ruling a weyr. I can ask for more information when Issa comes, and that will mean waiting for her to return, yet again." His hand lifts, tentatively, to settle on her shoulder. "I'll keep you safe, Cass," he whispers. "I promise."
Cassiel twitches at the touch, though a pained expression crosses her features when she does. "I'm sorry, J'lor," she murmurs, reaching up to hold his hand on her shoulder, apologetic. "I just...I've been burned too many times with them. I played the hero too many times and lost the fight. I can't just keep walking into the traps."
"We are living in a trap," J'lor murmurs. At the flinch, his fingers begin to withdraw, but Cassiel's hand keeps them there. "Things are changing there, in ways that are different than before. I wish I did not have to ask this of you. I wish there had been no reason to ask." J'lor sighs softly, his head dipping down, chin angling toward his chest. "There is a new Lord of Nabol. The old one was overthrown, and now...the deposed one seems to be, perhaps, trying to get our attention. Derek sent someone to learn more."
Cassiel stiffens, leaning back and releasing his hand. "J'lor, you have got to be kidding me," she says, incredulous. "How can you say in one breath that things are changing, possibly for the better, and then in the next suggest that we throw in with the old guard? That we align ourselves with someone they already see as a criminal!"
"He's not a criminal," J'lor's hand lands in his lap, "...I don't think. He's just no longer a lord. He's living in a hold somewhere on the edge of Nabol's territory. Five Mines. He's been talking about change, and perhaps his own plight has made him sympathetic to ours. He's been gathering people to him. We have to leave. We have to go somewhere. Maybe this is the answer."
"They don't make you 'no longer a lord' because you're a nice guy, J'lor," Cassiel points out dryly. "They make you 'no longer a lord' because you do things they don't particularly like. Check with your mainland source first," she advises. "Find out what the official line and what the gossip are on why he was ousted before you decide to throw in with him."
"He was ousted," J'lor says with a small smile, "because he refused to pay tithe to High Reaches and the weyr would not, in return, cover Nabol. It was why we flew there. It was why the land was so dead beneath us. A meeting of the Lord Holders unseated him. Obviously, the man needs some improvement, but as he is the first invitation we have had in eleven turns, I do not think we can afford to dismiss it without, at least, learning what it is he wishes."
"J'lor," Cassiel groans, dropping back on the pallet, a hand in her hair again. "Would you just stop? Stop trying to go back there. They don't want us. They won't keep us. Just let it go and let us live in peace."
J'lor shakes her head a little. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "but I won't. "
Cassiel closes her eyes, letting out a long, heavy breath. "Why, J'lor?" she murmurs. "Why? There are bronzes. There's still Diya's queen. We're self-supporting now. We could stay out here forever, doing things our own way."
"Because we are not self-supporting. We stole from the mainland to manage enough leather for straps. We kidnapped -children- so that hatchlings could impress. That is not self-sufficient. We are either a small populous of people who will die when the last of our dragons do, or we are a growing people who will die when our needs exceed what this island can provide." J'lor studies the greenrider in thoughtful silence. "I know it's frightening. I know it's a risk. I believe it is worth it."
Cassiel reaches for her blanket, promptly pulling it over her face. "This is not a good idea, J'lor. I register my opinion that throwing in our lot with someone who's already been deposed is a bad plan. Wait until Roa can offer us an invitation. Wait until we find out if this trial for S'lien is a real possibility. If it is, maybe we can earn some trust. Maybe we don't have to do this the hard way, just the slow way."
J'lor is quiet for a long while before he says, very softly, "Aivey tried to kill her, you know. And she helped to convict E'sere. And Derek...he is not above using her to control me." He clears his throat. "I do not wish to settle at High Reaches."
"No," Cassiel corrects from beneath the blanket, "You don't wish to settle at High Reaches with Aivey and Derek and E'sere. I'm not particularly inclined to settle with them, either. But I'd rather not settle with them and settle somewhere we aren't likely to end up being killed for then settle with them in such a place."
"I can't just...leave them here. I can't abandon--...this was Derek's idea in part. It's his man doing reconnaissance." J'lor curls his fingers around the edge of the blanket and slowly, gently, tries to tug it down and away from Cassiel's face. "We're all in this together. Nabol is in High Reaches coverage area. It's a safe enough first step."
Cassiel peers over the edge of the blanket, looking weary. "I don't know why I keep telling you not to stick your hand in the tunnel snake burrow, J'lor," she finally sighs, head dropping back over the edge of the pallet. "You just stick it in anyhow."
"Perhaps it's because I have you to pull me out again," the bluerider teases. He lifts his head to look out at the ledge where the blue of Vellath's wing still covers Chiavelth. "She hasn't risen since you've been back," J'lor notes softly.
"'S my fault," Cassiel says quietly, unmoving. A soft, slow breath is drawn and released before she speaks again. "She needs to. Soon. I just...I'm not ready for it yet, and I'm sure that's part of what's stopping her. Not forever, though," she murmurs. "Not forever."
"I know," J'lor replies, lowering his voice to her faint tone. "I wish I could..." his jaw flexes and the statement remains unfinished.
"Wishing won't make it go away. And it wasn't him, anyhow." Cassiel drags a hand through her hair, then pushes up to a sitting position once again. "It'll pass eventually, or I'll learn to live with it. I'll have to, if only for Chiavelth."
"Perhaps what you need is, ah..." J'lor clears his throat, "I attempt to find a way to suggest this without it sounding horrible, but I'm not sure I can. Perhaps you need an experience that is neither a flight nor unpleasant," the bluerider offers, if a touch awkwardly. And then, with a faint and playful smirk, "Any fine fellow on the island strike your fancy?"
"You're right, there's no way for you to say that that doesn't sound like you being a man," Cassiel chuckles, drawing a knee up to her chest and pushing the hair back from her face. "Thank you, J'lor, but not now, I think. With my luck we'd get started and Chiavelth would go up and for the first time in however many years it's been, someone other than Vellath would catch her and some poor man would be left standing down there in the woods losing his mind," she laughs.
"Here now," J'lor lifts his chin and sniffs primly, eyes dancing. "You may insult me all you like, but leave poor Vellath out of it. Besides, not that I am usually in a state to notice such things, but I have a sneaking suspicion the others restrain themselves just a bit when Chiavelth goes." He studies the pair of dragons with a faint smile. "He's fond of her." But then the teasing gleam leaves his gaze and he asks, more solemnly, "You'll be all right?"
"I'll be fine," Cassiel promises, reaching over to give his hand a brief squeeze with a small smile. "We'll be fine. And I'll make sure you're around before I let her go up," she adds, smile deepening slightly at one corner.
"Well," the bluerider laughs gently. "We'd both appreciate that." He leans forward to, quickly, place a soft kiss on Cassiel's forehead before he rocks back and pushes to his feet. "I should check on the weyrlings. I'll tell Issa, when she's back, that we'll go if it's safe?" The way his voice tilts makes that last a question.
Cassiel tips her brow up to the kiss, though she hesitates a moment at the question before nodding. "Yes," she says quietly. "Get us a promise there will be no repercussions for me or for us and I'll go."
"All right." He studies her a moment longer, his mouth opening and breath drawn in as if he might say something more. But, no, lips close and J'lor only nods before turning toward the ledge. "Come on, my love," he chides as he pads towards the blue. "Enough chivalry for one afternoon. Time to go." Vellath gives a rumble of mild annoyance before the wing withdraws and he crouches so that his rider can climb aboard.
Chiavelth twists her neck under Vellath's for a moment, an affectionate caress, before allowing the blue to move away. Likewise, Cassiel offers a faint smile, lifting her hand in a wave, before going back to her earlier occupation.